Chapter 9

CHAPTER NINE

F rom today, my life belongs to the dragon king and the kingdom he stole from me.

I barely remember Noble escorting me back to my room after the dragon keep before I got back into bed, hoping to sleep before the sun rises. I can't think about anything else as I'm dragged out from my bed before the sun crests the horizon outside the window. The very window I've thought about jumping from more than once. I no longer voice my protests to any of the servants. I'm bathed by them, twice, before the maids deem me satisfactory, and then I'm shoved into a stunning gold gown. I never knew what I'd wear on my wedding day, never thought about it, and I hate to admit that this dress is gorgeous. Two pure gold dragons curl around my breasts in a bodice, meeting in the middle, and their eyes are fire red rubies. They are a shade darker gold than the rest of the dress, which is layers of silk, satin, chiffon and so much detail in each layer that I can't help but wonder who made this. A thin layer of chiffon falls over my upper arms in three waves and each wave has a dragon crest matching the rest. It's beautiful, but I know my mother, who should be here, would hate it. She used to spin me around in my red dresses as a little girl, telling me when I marry, my dress would be like hers on her wedding day. Red, for our kingdom, for my father's crown.

The stylist finishes my hair, leaving most of it down in waves except for two braids that pull my locks from my face and, no doubt, are to help the crown sit comfortably on my head. Shame nothing about today will make me comfortable. Light makeup is covering my cheeks—but as I was told is their tradition—two gold dragons have been stencilled and painted underneath my eyes, just where my tears will fall. "Princess, you look beautiful. You will make a lovely queen."

I smile tightly at the maid. She doesn't know I hate the king and want none of this. That this may be a wedding celebrated across the kingdom, but for me, it might as well be a funeral. "Thank you."

"Leave us!" I turn as a woman enters my room through the open door, and the maids hurry out in a rush. Whoever she is—they listen to her. The familiar woman is very pretty, with classical features, bow lips and long blonde hair that hits her waist, longer than mine. She slowly looks me up and down, even though we are the same height, disgust flashing in her eyes before she smiles like a cat. "My name is Ambre. My father, your uncle, told me to come and offer you friendship before your big day."

There is so much sarcasm dripping from her words that I'm sure not even an idiot would believe her. Ambre, that's why she is familiar. "I know you. Uncle Dasinth told me stories of his daughter. I wasn't aware you lived in the castle."

"I was invited here as a guest." She touches one of the many necklaces spread out on my bed on a silver cloth, waiting for me to choose one. The maids said Erax had each of them made for me, one of many gifts I'm supposed to receive. I don't want any of them. "You can have one if you like."

She picks up a choker of a gold dragon and walks to me, her tight, short black dress brushing the tiles. "You should wear this one. Fitting, for a slave labelled a queen."

"What do you want, Ambre?" I question, taking the choker from her hand. "You don't like me; I can see that. I don't know what I did to piss you off, but I'm really not in the mood to deal with you today. Uncle Dasinth was wrong to send you here. Where is he?"

Ambre turns and walks to the door. "You're not really our family, so why would he be here today? I'm sure he has better things to do." She stops at the door, looking back at me. It stings that he isn't here. He might not be blood, but I've always seen him as family. "I came to see if you'd be any competition for me when it comes to the king. He needs you for an heir to settle the kingdom, but after? You won't be needed, and he will find much more interesting companions to turn into his queen."

My heart races as something burns in my chest. I can't name the feeling that is clawing my chest up, but it's there and it isn't going away as I watch her. "And your conclusion?"

She sweetly laughs, meeting my eyes. There is nothing but spite in her gaze and a longing for the crown, a sight I've seen in a thousand faces when they look at me. "I have nothing to worry about. Congratulations, Your Majesty. May your marriage be fruitful sooner rather than later."

Bitch. Where is a dragon to eat her?

Ambre slams the door shut behind her, and I flinch. Another enemy in this forsaken castle! I throw the stupid necklace at the wall, and it cracks in two before falling to the floor. Two maids rush into the room, both their eyes widening at the broken necklace. "If that one isn't to your liking, may we suggest one of the other?—"

"I'm not wearing any of them." I push past them both to stand in front of the door, where my shoes are waiting. I'm going to be queen soon and there is nothing I can control about today, but not wearing one of the necklaces that feel like chains. I can control this at least. I slide my feet into small gold heels, and I'm barely able to walk into them as I step back. Before leaving, I glance at myself in the mirror, knowing no matter how pretty I look, my father would be ashamed of me and so would my mother.

They would have rather killed me than let me marry their enemy.

But they're not here, and I have to make a life for myself. I have to fight for myself. No one else is going to.

One more time, I allow myself to briefly drift my gaze to the open window and the peace it offers. Death or marriage? A ray of sunlight shines over my pillow, where the dagger is hidden underneath. He was kind and promised not to hurt me. I'm not sure I can trust his promise, but the dagger...the dagger I can trust. It felt different, like a lifeline being thrown to me when I was drowning.

Before I can do anything, the maids are ushering me out of my room. I have to hold up the ends of my dress, so I don't trip on it as I am quickly taken through the heavily guarded castle, and I'm shoved into a carriage outside the castle. I barely get a second to take in my surroundings before the carriage is riding through the crowded streets, full of screaming, cheering, adoring people. Children race after the carriage throwing what looks to be gold petals. I can barely see through them to look at the actual city as they rain down the carriage windows.

It feels like only minutes before we are driving by the chapel. It's a beautiful, old building with weathered grey stone, and stained-glass windows of gold and red. I'm surprised when we go past it and down another packed street of people that look richer by the condition of their dresses and suits.

Most of them are clapping and cheering, but a good amount of them are leering and watching the carriage move by. There are so many men watching and waiting, and I sink back in my seat away from their gazes. I remind myself that I am not wholly welcome here. My supporters might be hidden somewhere among the crowds, but it's clear those leering at me are not them.

The carriage stops outside another chapel. This one is smaller than the other. The door is opened as I climb out. Immediately, two guards are at either side of me. They guide me down the gold walkway to the chapel, where I'm led inside to a massive prayer room. The guards remain at the door, and I glance at the two priests waiting at the back of the small room. One is as old as time, so wrinkled that I barely see how he's still standing in his white robes. The other is a priestess, not one I know, but they all look the same to me. Stern, bitter women. They both bow when I stop in front of them. The priestess wrinkles her nose. "Are you aware of our rituals, Princess?"

I clear my throat and clamp my shaking hands together in front of me. "No."

I don't bother adding her title. I'm so sick of seeing priests and priestesses.

The priest looks at my hands before stepping forward. "You are safe, princess. Please do not be scared. Of course you wouldn't know. My name is Priest Jean." He places his hand on my shoulder. His voice is softer than the woman beside him. "It is an honour to meet you, Princess Maelena."

I resist the urge to knock his hand off me despite his kindness. "Likewise." I don't bother hiding the sarcasm in my voice. "Why am I here? Shall we just go to the chapel and get it done quickly?"

"Pertinent, spoiled princess!" The priestess snaps at me, clutching her walking stick tightly. "I had been warned but never imagined?—"

"Oh, she is simply eager to marry our king," the priest cuts in, "which can only be expected. He is very handsome, and the union of our kingdoms will bestow upon us great fruition." Just when I think the priest might not be so awful, he ruins it by mentioning that. It's clear the joining of our kingdoms is a union I want no part of. "I am afraid you must remove your lovely dress, Princess. You may have it back after the ritual, when you are married to the king and your union consummated."

" What ?" I whisper in disbelief, sickness rising in my throat. "But it took forever to get into it."

I can't help but laugh at my own response. Of course, that really wasn't what I wanted to say. What I want to say is—are you fucking serious? These people are sick if they are.

The priestess takes a step closer. "The future queen must be fully seen by the kingdom. It is a tradition that has stemmed back hundreds of years. All noble women do this. I am afraid it must be the same for you. You are to walk through the crowds in nothing but your skin for the gods to see so that they might wash any sins that cling to your body. It is to make you completely pure. You understand this must be done."

It isn't a question. It's a demand.

Two priestesses step forward and walk towards me from opposite sides of the room, blocking me in. I take several steps back, almost stumbling over the dress. "Absolutely not!" I hold my hands out to them. "Don't you come anywhere near me. Do not touch me!"

"Come here, your insolent child!" the priestess shouts as I continue stepping back.

The other two priestesses go to grab my arms, but I lurch away from one, only to trip on the dress and fall with the other tightly grabbing my wrist. Someone catches me before I hit the ground. I look up to see Erax frowning down at me, his arm around my waist, his eyes burning with something dark and dangerous.

"I would suggest you take your hands off her before you bruise my future queen." Erax doesn't look at them when he speaks. He keeps his eyes locked on me and his scent is like a comforting wave as it washes over me. "Or this will not end well for either of you."

The priestess immediately let me go and jump back as if shocked by his words. My cheeks burn as Erax straightens me, and I step out of his arms the moment I can. My heart races as he looks at me slowly. A dark, primal desire burning in his green eyes. It seems like he needs more than a minute before he can pull his gaze away towards the others waiting. I look at him too, shocked. The black scaled leather clothes are gone, replaced with dark green and gold fine clothes that are tightly fitted to his toned body. A gold cloak falls from his shoulders, and his black hair is styled rather than the usual windswept way he wears it.

He looks like a king about to marry a princess of an enemy kingdom.

He looks like the kind of man I would have begged my father to let me marry.

He looks like someone I want as mine.

"What is going on here?" he demands of them. They all look between each other but there is no mistaking the venom in his tone. "Do not make me repeat myself. Speak, or I will drag the words out from you myself!"

The priest quickly explains about the tradition that takes place before the ritual, apparently one his great-grandmother went through.

"It is tradition, Your Majesty," she concludes. "The gods demand it be so."

Erax clenches his fists. "Do you think I'm a fool? The ritual has not been taken place in generations." He glares at the priestesses moving ever so slightly forward, possible to get away. It's unclear. "Touch my wife again and I will kill you in front of your gods."

The older priestess splutters something unintelligible, then again tries to justify her actions. "My king, the ritual is needed for such a sinful queen?—"

He interrupts her with a snarl. "Fuck the ritual! Only I get to see what is under my wife's dress. She. Is. Mine!" No one dares to argue with him again or challenge the downright possessiveness of his statement. "Now go to the chapel to wait for us, and while you are at it—run. I won't be expected to wait for you, old man. I will walk my bride there myself. In her dress. Is that clear?"

They each nod and bow their heads, although somewhat hesitantly.

Noble stands a few feet away from us, and I don't notice him until he speaks. "Now, when the king who rides a fucking dragon, tells you to run… run ."

They scurry away, each breaking into a run. Noble moves into the path of the oldest priestess, stopping her. Erax looks at me. "Not you, priestess. You're to go with us riders."

"But my king?—"

He looks over at her, his face impassive." I believe you were a regular guest at where my princess grew up?"

"Well, yes," she begins, confusion making her eyebrows rise. "I can't see how that?—"

Erax's tone holds no time for her. "Then you go with my riders." I'm confused as I look at them all. The priestess leaves with Noble and two other men I've not seen before, clearly more of the king's riders from their leather clothes and casual stance. Erax eyes seem to flicker down my dress more than once, making me feel extremely nervous, before he offers me his elbow. I wonder what he thinks. "Come, we have quite a bit of a walk. The carriage already left, or I would ask for it to take us."

"As long as I can keep my dress on, I'm happy," I answer, still confused that he stopped it from happening. He helped me again. "Wait a second." I lean down, taking the heels off my already blistered feet and chucking them to the side. "I'm sorry, but I can't walk all that way in those heels."

He smirks at me, and then he laughs. I can't help but chuckle slightly with him, which seems to take him by surprise. It surprises me too. For a moment, it feels like the weight of the kingdom isn't on our shoulders as we walk. That we aren't enemies, and this isn't the man who killed my family and took my throne from me. He's just a beautiful man I'm about to marry.

Of course, reality is a bitch, and it knocks me off my feet within seconds the moment we exit the small chapel. I look away from him, reminding myself of my fate. Erax seems content to do the same as we step out into the crowds. Guards line the streets now, standing in front of the crowds of people and not letting them pass. They throw gold petals over us as we continue to walk, and Erax doesn't say a word to me.

Is he as nervous as me? Isn't this everything he wanted? Or is he unhappy with the idea of marrying me too? I should feel relieved at the prospect, but there's a part of me that is shockingly disappointed. And I don't like how that part of me keeps growing bigger.

My eyes flicker out across the people, some of whom must remember my parents as they cheer and support the celebration. I can't help but be amazed at how there isn't an ounce of fear on their faces. They adore this man, this usurper who took everything from me. But the people look better than I remember them as a child, less thin and sick. They all seem to have colour in their cheeks and a happiness in their eyes I never witnessed until now. Why did they never look like this when my parents ruled?

Did my parents not look after their people like they swore to me they would? I was very rarely allowed outside the castle grounds. In fact, I can count on one hand how often I visited the people of our kingdom. I remember their condition being poor during difficult harvests, but I never realised how bad until now. I have so many questions taking root in my mind, but I know this isn't the day for them.

When we reach the cathedral, I immediately feel so nervous that sickness rises in my throat. A dragon roars above us the moment my bare feet step onto the cold marble steps, and flames lick the skies. Erax's dragon swoops over the chapel, followed by ten other dragons in shades of red and orange, and they fly high above, circling the chapel. They swirl around each other, diving and spinning, and it's stunning to see.

"Are they dancing?" The question escapes me as I watch them. I have heard of dragon dancing, but I wasn't sure it was true. I certainly never imagined I'd get to see it one day let alone on the day of my wedding.

"Yes," Erax answers. "They are happy. It is an honoured wedding gift for us."

We watch them for a few more minutes and tears well in my eyes. It's like they're dancing to a song only they can hear, and how I wish I could hear the lyrics for just one moment. With a gentle pull, Erax leads me into the chapel. His boots echo on the dark stone and braziers flicker as we pass by them. The building seems to have been carved out of gorgeous red trees that cover the walls and stretch all the way up to the vaulted ceiling. Gold leaves litter every inch of the floor, sparkling in the sunlight which shines through the many gaps in the walls. There are statues of the gods here, behind the altar. A black onyx statue for Nytar and a red ruby statue for Hekai. They stand tall and imposing, their hands wielding dragons in their hands like weapons, and they look down at us as if we are vermin. At least that's how I've always felt these gods look whenever they are depicted. Their expressions certainly don't make me ever want to pray to them.

Erax doesn't stop walking until we are fully inside the building, away from all the eyes of the outside crowds. A lone priest stands by the altar waiting for us. The old man who told me to strip not so long ago. My blood boils at the sight of him. I am surprised, however, to find the rest of the room is empty. There are no witnesses, no servants. Just this man, and the one beside me who is about to claim me as his wife

"Where's everyone else?" I ask, my voice barely a whisper.

Erax leans down, his hot breath caressing my ear. "Our ritual is for us. I cannot give you privacy in other ways, like a normal woman might have, but it is in my power to give you this."

I blink twice in pure surprise. I thought he'd want every noble in his kingdom to attend the wedding. To witness the final fuck, you to my father as he takes me as his bride, securing his reign once and for all. I didn't expect this kind of mercy.

‘Where was my wife's mercy?'

My cheeks flush at the memory of his words, at the way he avenged me. Soon we are both standing in front of the priest who goes over the ancient binding words that will link our lives together. Most are in a language I do not know, and I try to keep my hands from shaking as his chant rolls down my spine. For all I know he could be binding my soul to the king's forever, in this realm and the after realm, and there is nothing I can do about it. But then isn't that exactly what we are doing here? The moment I become the king's wife; our soul will be bound for eternity.

While I watch the priest, blind to whatever he is saying, Erax keeps his eyes locked on me, never leaving my face for one moment. Once the priest is finished speaking his strange tongue, he offers him a dagger. Erax cuts a line down his palm without blinking.

"Here, make a cut." He hands me the white dagger, tinted with his blood. "Make an offering to the gods, so they might bless our union."

I stare at the dagger for far too long, my eyes stinging with unshed tears, wondering if I should press the blade into my chest and die, or marry my enemy. I think to kill myself now would be a cowardly way out this, and wouldn't that just give him what he wants deep down? He's only marrying me out of duty to his kingdom and to uphold his reputation.

Besides, I've come to realise that I'm not ready to die. Not yet. I need more out of my life. I want more, and I'm willing to fight for it, even if that means fighting my husband for the rest of my life.

I run the dagger across my palm, wincing at the sharp sting as my blood pours down my hand and I close my fingers. Erax takes my hand in his, fusing our cuts together, our bloods mixing in an eternal bond of fire and roses. I swear fire and ice flash in our joined hands for a second, and I blink, and it's gone. Did he see that? Did anyone?

The priest clears his throat. "Do you wish to repeat the vows after me?—"

"No," Erax murmurs, his eyes intent on me. "I know them."

He tugs me closer, our hands held so tight, and for a second there is just us.

Two people stood before the gods, lying to them that we aren't enemies but lovers who want to be married, and Erax is the most beautiful liar of all. He looks into my eyes as if searching for something, as if he's stripping every layer of my courage away down to my very soul. I feel naked under his gaze, and I'm shivering.

"I stand before the gods, before the sun, moon and stars, to pledge my soul to you, Maelena." He lifts his injured hand and presses it over my heart, his blood seeping through my dress, then he smears his thumb down my lips, and I can taste it. Our blood joining together, our soul binding to each other. "Take my blood as your power and my body as your shield, and I will be the vessel that carries you. I will protect you and honour your needs and satisfy your every desire. I alone will worship your body, for you are mine, and I am yours." He gently cups my cheek, smudging the dragons. "Mine."

That word takes my breath away.

Erax pulls me to him, and then he kisses me. His lips are like a branding, far worse than the vows of our marriage, far worse than our blood mixing together, because when he kisses me, he possesses me down to my very core. He consumes me with every second of his lips pushing against mine, every inch of his skin brushing my body as his hand slides down to my neck, pulling me closer together like he can't get enough. Like I'm the very air to his lungs. The truest worst thing of all… is that I don't want him to stop.

When he breaks away, loud bells ring across the city and the cheering can be heard even louder than the bells. Even louder than my racing heart. With nothing but gold in his eyes, he steps back but links our hands. I'm too shocked to pull away.

"I have a present for you, my wife, to celebrate our marriage."

"I don't need more gifts," I say, letting go of his hand, feeling cold when I'm not in his arms anymore.

He shrugs a shoulder. "Humour your husband and come see it anyway. You might change your mind."

Husband.

Erax walks to the back of the chapel. Curiosity compels me to follow him. Outside, in the well-maintained gardens, three bonfires have been lit. Thick, black smoke stretches into the sky where the dragons are still dancing. Their giant forms briefly eclipse the sun. My blood runs cold as I look over each of the bonfires. They aren't empty. People have been burned in them. I recognise a few of the charred, blackened corpses still tied to the logs, and a wave of nausea hits me.

Erax places his hand on my back. "You remember your protectors—all the nuns I ordered to look after you? All the people who witnessed or took part in your torture?" He follows my gaze, and a smile lights up his face. "Their bodies will line the streets as my gift to you."

My mouth parts. I don't know how to feel—happy or horrified. Definitely both. And I definitely should not be surprised Erax would do something like this after what he did to Sister Gabriella and her acolytes. But still… Is this what revenge feels like? It tastes more bitter than sweet.

Erax watches me, gauging my reaction carefully, a hopeful glint in his eye.

"Dead, burnt bodies aren't a gift, Erax."

"To a dragon, they are." He leans in, kissing my cheek. He killed them, all of them, who hurt me and played a part in my decade long torture. There were at least fifty of them. I still don't know how to feel. "No one is ever going to hurt you and think they will get away with it. You're my wife, Maelena. My queen. Now let's go celebrate."