Chapter 2 — The Dragon King's Choice
The grand hall of the Dragon Palace shimmered under golden chandeliers, their flames reflecting off the black marble floor like captured stars. Lyra stood in the middle of it, her hands trembling at her sides. The silk gown they had forced her into felt heavy and wrong — like it belonged to someone else.
Dozens of noblewomen stared from the corners, whispering behind jeweled fans. Each one had dreamed of being chosen. Each one hated that she — a poor girl from the border village — now stood where they wished to be.
At the far end of the hall sat King Auren, upon his throne carved of obsidian and dragon bone. His amber eyes glowed faintly beneath the dim light, watching her without emotion.
"Raise your head," he said, voice low and deep — like thunder rolling in the distance.
Lyra obeyed, though her heart pounded so violently it hurt.
"You are the chosen bride," said the Chancellor, bowing before the King. "The people of Eldareth await your word."
Auren's gaze didn't waver. His expression was unreadable — cold, almost bored.
"Then let them know," he said, "that I have accepted her."
Gasps echoed across the hall. Lyra's breath caught in her throat. Accepted?
But when she dared to meet his eyes again, Auren leaned slightly forward and spoke so quietly only she could hear:
> "Don't mistake this for affection. I chose you only because the court grew tired of my refusals."
The words sank like knives into her chest.
She lowered her gaze, hiding the sting in her eyes. "I understand, Your Majesty," she whispered.
He said nothing else. He rose from his throne, the air around him shimmering faintly — heat, restrained. Power. Every step he took echoed like a heartbeat through the hall.
When he stopped before her, he lifted her chin with a single finger.
"You will obey the palace rules," he said. "And you will not enter the western wing."
She nodded, her voice caught in her throat.
Then, just as he turned to leave, she caught something in his eyes — not coldness this time, but pain. It was gone as quickly as it came, like a spark dying in the rain.
---
That night, Lyra lay awake in her new chamber, surrounded by silk and silence. Outside, the moonlight poured over the palace gardens, glimmering on the dragon-shaped statues that lined the path.
She should have felt lucky. She should have been grateful.
But instead, her chest ached.
Why me? she thought. Why choose someone you don't want?
A roar shattered the stillness.
Deep and distant — the unmistakable cry of a dragon.
The sound shook the walls, and for a brief moment, Lyra thought she saw fire flicker across the sky beyond the mountains.
Something told her… the King's curse was far from silent tonight.