I shivered as I hesitated outside the dining room. It was always cold in the castle, but today it felt like the chill had seeped into my bones.
Father wouldn’t be happy that I was ten minutes late, but I was late because I’d had to clean my bloodied back from the fresh lashes he’d imprinted there.
I shouldn’t complain. Last week had been much, much worse. This time he had only whipped me twice instead of the usual five to ten times.
The candlelight flickered as I burst into the dining room, out of breath. I could feel my father’s glare before I even looked up, and it sent another shiver down my spine.
“Kira…you’re late!” His voice boomed, echoing off the walls.
“I’m sorry, Father,” I mumbled, keeping my head down.
“Sorry isn’t good enough, Kira. You’ll meet me in the basement for your punishment after breakfast.”
“Yes, Father,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
I was glad he took out his anger on me instead of on her. It had been just my father, Raya, and me for nearly a decade now since our mother passed. Our father had become increasingly difficult in his old age, becoming violent, short-tempered, and withdrawn. He took out his anger on me for some reason, and I had just learned to live for it for Raya’s and my sake.
If I didn’t, he probably would’ve sold me off to someone years ago, and Raya would be his new displacement to beat on. Father didn’t think there was anything wrong with what he did to me, though.
He told me he was training me for battle in case our kingdom went to war, that I needed to be strong, and that warriors had scars. And scars were what I had, across my lower back. Even though most of them were faded, the soft tears of my skin were still visible along my backside. He’d also forced me to learn combat training, even though he chastised me, calling my skills “subpar” at best.
Suddenly, a servant burst in. “A letter for you, my king!” The poor man looked like he was about to pee himself as he handed the envelope to my father.
As he placed the letter in my father’s calloused hands, I could feel the wind outside pick up as an icy breeze blew through the room. No one else seemed to notice it.
Father opened the letter, slowly tracing the seal with his fingers, then began reading it in silence. Neither Raya nor I were foolish enough to ask what the letter said, or whom it was from.
We sat in silence for minutes and watched Father as he read the letter. He put the letter down, then got to his feet, focusing upon me.
“Kira!” His voice thundered, his blond hair messily flopping across his head.
“Yes, Father?” I gulped, staring down into my lap, afraid to make eye contact with him.
“Look at me this instant!” he demanded.
I sucked in a breath of wintery air and brought my eyes to meet his frigid gaze.
“You’ve been selected as a potential candidate for queen by the Dragon King Cerion.” A smile spread across his face, and I felt my blood run cold. “You’ll go to Drakoria for the choosing ceremony.”
“Speak, girl!” Father roared, his face turning an alarming shade of red.
“Father…,” I started, already regretting my words. “Do I have to go?” I’d never gone more than an hour’s journey from our castle.
His face contorted with rage as he slammed his hand down on the letter. I flinched as he stormed toward me, waving the paper in my face.
“You will go!” he shouted. “One more outburst from you, and I will find a way to punish you. I can’t whip you because of this invitation, but make no mistake, girl, I will find a way.”
Raya was at my side in an instant, wrapping her arms around me. “I’m sorry, Kira,” she whispered, and I felt my heart break a little.
“It’s not your fault, Raya. At least Father will be gone with me for a few weeks, and you can finally have some peace and quiet,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt.
Raya buried her face in my shoulder, her voice muffled. “Don’t let him choose you!”
“He won’t,” I promised, even as my stomach twisted with uncertainty. We lived in the mountains, far from the glitz and glamour of the wealthy families.
Our village had been struggling lately, and besides, I was way too young to be anyone’s queen, let alone the Dragon of Ruin’s.
“But you’re perfect, Kira,” Raya sobbed, her tears soaking through my dress. “You’re selfless, compassionate, and beautiful. What if he sees that and picks you?”
“He’s a butcher, Raya,” I reminded her, trying to inject some humor into my voice. “I’m sure he won’t want anyone with my qualities.”
Raya’s body stiffened against mine. “That’s the Dragon of Ruin, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” I whispered, the words feeling heavy on my tongue. “Exactly why he won’t choose me! What kind of Dragon of Ruin would want an innocent, thoughtful bride?”
A small smile tugged at Raya’s lips, though her eyes were still red and puffy. “You’re right. Any man who’s called the Dragon of Ruin probably isn’t looking for a princess with a big heart.”
“That’s right, Raya,” I said, running my fingers through her blonde hair. I was trying to comfort her, but really, I was desperate to calm my own racing thoughts.
The reality of what was coming hit me like a punch to the gut. I’d have to meet him, no matter what.
My skin prickled at the thought of coming face-to-face with the Dragon of Ruin, and I wondered if I was as ready for this as I pretended to be.
Any knowledge of what I was facing would be an advantage to me. The more I knew about the Danis, the better.
Our kingdom was a fraction of what it used to be. Neighboring kingdoms had swallowed up the better parts of our land centuries ago. Father denied it, but it was true. We lived in winter almost all year round due to our geography, snowcapped mountains, and frigid temperatures, with most of the land unfit to grow crops.
Our people were impoverished, and worst of all, they hated their ruler. We didn’t have enough equity to fund an army, so Father hired mercenaries as “hired arms” when needed.
Father hated it when Raya and I spent time in town with our people. He thought it was useless and that they were of little importance, but I enjoyed doing so. It mattered to them. It mattered when we brought them fresh bread, even though it was in small amounts, and it helped when people saw us outside of our glass house.
Father was desperate to do anything he possibly could to regain power, money, and control, and it seemed an incredible opportunity had just landed in his lap. A trade. My hand in marriage for influence.
I made my way to the library, hoping to find answers there that I could use to my benefit.
We’d had tutors when we were younger, but of late, we weren’t able to afford them due to the decline of our dynasty.
Valon hadn’t produced the blood of a dragon in over two hundred years, but our dragons were said to have been magnificent creatures with blue scales, breathing ice instead of fire.
All of the more valuable books had been sold off decades ago by my grandfather, and he’d been partially right to do so, as it had aided us for a time. But eventually, the money had dwindled, and we were back to the same misfortunes we had suffered before: a dynasty in decline.
That was until we’d rediscovered the gemstone mines. They were our saving grace. Nearly four decades ago, Father had found the mines in an uninhabited corner of the kingdom. The story goes that one of my father’s scouts, who was loyal to him, had stumbled on some precious gemstones that were found frozen and preserved in ice.
Almost nothing unfroze here for long, so after a few long hours of hacking away the ice, the gemstones were finally exposed. Shortly thereafter, they located an entrance to the mine.
Mining the gems had helped Father maintain a portion of our wealth and keep control of the kingdom. But my father always sought more. His latest scheme was to acquire fertile farmland from a neighboring kingdom.
I paged through a few of the books that were left, unable to locate any literature on our dynasty, and instead discovered a decrepit book on the Dani Dynasty, torn at the spine and with weathered pages. The only matter of consequence I found inside the book was the description of King Cerion’s ancestors as warmongers. It seemed that tradition had always carried through their lineage. I gulped at the thought.
I flipped to the last page of the book, an old painting of the Dani Dynasty’s castle. It depicted a massive dark stone castle perched majestically atop a rocky hill. The castle’s towering stone walls rose against the backdrop of a blue sky and an endless green hillside. Ivy crawled along the stone walls.
The castle was decorated with red and gold banners—the house colors of the Dani Dynasty. At the entrance of the castle, there was a grand wooden gate reinforced with wrought black iron. A river ran along the bottom of the hill. This was where I would meet the Dragon of Ruin.
I shut the book and stared at the wall. Red eyes flashed through my mind. I imagined a cruel face and a man riddled with scars. I imagined the Dragon of Ruin glaring down at me, demanding that I be his. Something inside me stirred—something foreign that I’d never quite felt before.
