The evening meal was torture—a slow bleed of patience and pride. I’d come to terms with marriage, even a loveless one, but nothing prepared me to be so blatantly ignored.
Tallon greeted me at the stairs with a charming smile, one that promised so much but delivered nothing. He led me to sit at his right, placing himself between me and the king. After that, he proceeded to ignore me for the rest of the evening, summoning nobles from the main floor to engage in idle banter, leaving me isolated. Every polite question I ventured met either a dismissive shrug or a smirk that chipped away at my resolve.
I stabbed my fork into my untouched dessert, a delicate piece of pie dusted with sugar and brimming with warm apples. The rich scent was heavenly, but my appetite soured under the weight of my irritation. I nudged it around my plate, lifting small bites to keep up appearances.
Tallon’s voice rose over the din, smooth and melodic, lacking his father’s thunderous command. Though a prince nearing manhood, he sounded like the young nobles at Draconia, all jest and bravado with little substance. Only a year younger than me, he held an entire kingdom in his hands; shouldn’t that burden have molded him into something more substantial?
“You can ride out tomorrow to see them!” A noble, all grins and eagerness, blurted, his brown hair unruly.
“I’d love that!” Tallon leaned back, teeth flashing in a broad smile. “Send for me at the tenth hour.”
I waited, poised, yet invisible.
“Perfect! Father will be pleased!”
I waited still.
The prince laughed, his attention unwavering. “The palace could always use more hounds. You can never have too many.”
“A breed of retriever from Draconia excels at hunts,” I interjected, my voice steady as I met the noble’s surprised stare.
Tallon twisted toward me, his polite smile fixed, but the warmth in his emerald gaze chilled into guarded stone.
I forged on. “They brave rough waters to catch rock gulls. I would love to see–”
“I’m sure you’d prefer to spend your time picking through gems or fine clothes over muddy hounds, Princess.”
The rebuke struck, sharp and unyielding, but I held my expression—a practiced mask of serenity—as the sting settled into silence. Tallon watched, eyes searching, a slight twitch at his lips.
A smile. Not a sneer. It had to be.
“On the contrary, I would love to see them.” My tone remained even. I would not yield.
“Kaden, when is feeding time?” His gaze pinned mine, unwavering, his challenge unspoken yet clear. Two royals locked in a battle of smiles and silence, testing boundaries in a hall full of masks.
What a finely spun farce.
“At the seventh hour Your High–”
“Make sure they’re fed something live. I’ll be there to watch.” Tallon’s sneer lifted his nose, barely concealing a snarl. “Off with you.”
My smile slipped, unwilling to humor his rude dismissal of the noble any longer.
“There will be bloodshed, Princess.” His voice dropped as Kaden’lon bowed and hurried down the stairs. “Best you stay here—it wouldn’t do to have you faint in front of the commoners.”
“I was raised among dragons, dear Prince. A bit of blood doesn’t faze me,” I replied, sweetness threading through each word, though the effort strained my patience. “And those of Lon descent are hardly commoners.”
If he was going to take public jabs with his words, I would hand them right back. His head tilted, amusement flickering in his eyes, but I saw the edge in his smirk. Forcing a smile, I fought the ache in my cheeks as he met my defiance with a scoff, shrugging a shoulder.
“So be it.” He turned to the hall, leaning over his plate. His overcoat dipped into his dessert as he beckoned to another nobleman.
My shoulders slumped a fraction, and I took a deep breath to steady myself. When I lifted my gaze, I caught King Kallias’ eyes—clear blue like Draconia’s skies, and just as piercing. His stare weighed on me, and warmth crept over my face, unmasking my irritation and anger toward his son. His brows remained drawn in contemplation, a muscle working in his jaw. When his attention shifted to Tallon, he released me from his scrutiny. I glanced back down, nudging a piece of apple that had slipped free from my pie, counting each passing minute until I could escape this charade.
Edith stayed in my rooms that night. When dawn broke, Scythe roused herself to help ready me in the soft gray light. She handed me a slice of fresh bread, its crust still warm, smeared with a thick spread of berry-red jam. The tang paired well with the smooth bitterness of the black tea I sipped, its faint steam curling into the cool air as Edith’s hands moved in deft twists, braiding my hair with gentle, practiced tugs.
Today, I’d don a gown to retain my femininity—but not without a reminder for Tallon. If he wanted me to watch hounds rip apart prey, he’d see me as I was—a descendant from Dragon Riders.
When Edith retired, Scythe helped me dress in a pair of thin dark breeches beneath a gown crafted like a masterful painting. Deep sapphire hugged my chest and gave way to swirls of burgundy that ended in crimson spilling over my black boots.
