Elara's POV
I don't sleep.
How can I, when every time I close my eyes, I see those silver dragon eyes staring directly at me through the darkness?
By dawn, my decision is made. Not because I'm brave, but because I'm tired of being afraid.
The kitchen is chaos when I arrive for my morning duties. Servants rush everywhere, voices high with panic.
Saw it myself, massive thing, right over the village square
My daughter won't stop crying
Seven days, that's what the message said
Cook grabs my arm hard enough to bruise. Forget your regular work. The mayor's calling an emergency council meeting in an hour. We need the meeting room prepared. Move!
I move.
The meeting room is on the second floor, with tall windows that overlook the village square. I'm setting out water glasses when I see him a man in black armor standing perfectly still in the center of the square. He wasn't there a minute ago.
The messenger.
Villagers gather around him but keep their distance, like he's a dangerous animal. He doesn't move. Doesn't speak. Just stands there, waiting.
My hands shake as I pour water into the glasses. Spill some. Keep pouring.
Elara! Sarah rushes in, her face pale. Did you see him? The messenger? They say he appeared out of thin air. Just poof materialized in the square.
I saw. My voice sounds steadier than I feel.
What do you think the Dragon King wants?
A bride, I think. He wants a bride, and they're going to choose me.
But I don't say it out loud. I don't know.
The council members start arriving. Mayor Frost first, his face grim. Then the village elders Magistrate Kern, Trader Moss, Captain Aldric of the guard. Theron walks in with his father, and behind them, my father.
I freeze when I see him. He doesn't even glance at me. Just takes his seat like I'm furniture.
Elara, wine, Cook hisses from the doorway.
Right. Wine. I'm the servant.
I move around the table, filling glasses. My father's hand is inches from mine when I pour his drink. He still doesn't look at me.
Should we bring the messenger inside? Magistrate Kern asks.
No, Mayor Frost says firmly. We go to him. Show we're not cowering in our manor while he waits.
They all stand. I expect to be dismissed, but Cook grabs my arm again. You go too. They'll want wine brought down. Stay in the background and keep quiet.
We file down to the square. The morning sun is bright, but the air feels wrong too still, too quiet. The villagers have backed away even further, giving the messenger space.
Up close, he's terrifying. The black armor covers him completely. No skin shows. The helmet has no eye holes, but somehow I know he's looking at each council member, counting them.
I am Vorath, the messenger says. His voice sounds like grinding stone. I speak for Kaelen Draymore, Dragon King of the Northern Mountains.
No one breathes.
My king requires a bride, Vorath continues. One woman of this village, sent to his castle within seven days. In exchange, your village will be spared and protected from all threats for the next decade.
And if we refuse? Captain Aldric asks, trying to sound brave.
Then on the eighth day, fire will rain from the sky until nothing remains but ash and bone.
A woman in the crowd screams. Others gasp. Children start crying.
Mayor Frost steps forward. Surely there's another arrangement we can make. Tribute, perhaps. Gold, livestock, whatever the Dragon King requires
He requires a bride. Vorath's helmet turns to face the mayor. That is not a negotiation. That is a fact.
But how do we choose? Magistrate Kern's voice cracks. We can't just sacrifice one of our own
You have seven days to decide. Vorath raises one armored hand. My king is not unreasonable. He asks only for a volunteer. Someone willing to come of her own free will.
The crowd erupts. Everyone talking at once, shouting, arguing.
I stand frozen, the wine pitcher heavy in my hands.
A volunteer. Someone willing.
And what happens to this bride? my father asks. The first words he's spoken. Does she live? Or is this a death sentence?
Vorath is silent for a long moment. The Dragon King's previous brides did not survive the year. But my king hopes this time will be different. He seeks a true mate, not a sacrifice.
Seven brides. Seven graves. Sylas's words from my vision flash through my mind. Except I haven't met Sylas yet. Haven't seen the graves. How do I know about seven brides?
My head spins.
This is madness! Trader Moss shouts. You're asking us to send a woman to her death!
I am asking you to send a volunteer, Vorath corrects. Or I am asking you to watch your village burn. The choice is yours.
He raises both hands, and black smoke pours from his armor, swirling around him like a tornado. When it clears, he's gone.
Vanished, just like he appeared.
The square explodes with noise. Everyone talking, crying, shouting. The council members huddle together, their voices low and urgent.
I can't hear them over the pounding in my ears.
We need to reconvene, Mayor Frost announces loudly. Council members, back to the manor. Everyone else, return to your homes. We'll have an answer by nightfall.
The crowd disperses slowly. I follow the council back inside, still carrying the wine pitcher like it's a shield.
They settle into the meeting room. I pour more wine with shaking hands.
We need volunteers, Magistrate Kern says once I've finished pouring. Put out a call. Offer an incentive to the family gold, land, something.
No one will volunteer, Captain Aldric says flatly. Would you send your daughter to die?
Then we draw lots, Trader Moss suggests. Put every unmarried woman's name in a pot and choose fairly.
That's not fair! Theron says. Some of those women have families, futures
And some don't, my father interrupts. His eyes finally find me, standing by the wall. Some have nothing to lose.
The room goes silent.
Every council member turns to look at me.
My throat closes up. The wine pitcher slips from my numb fingers and crashes to the floor, red wine spreading like blood across the wood.
Elara, Mayor Frost says carefully. Would you be willing to volunteer? For the good of the village?
I can't speak. Can't breathe.
Think about it, Theron adds, and his voice is so kind it makes me sick. You could save everyone. Children, families. You'd be a hero.
She'd be dead, Marcus says from the doorway. I didn't even hear him come in. You're asking my sister to die for you.
We're asking her to consider it, my father says coldly. She's a grown woman. She can make her own choices.
Like you let her choose when you threw her out? Marcus's voice rises. When you disowned her for something that wasn't even her fault?
Enough! Mayor Frost slams his hand on the table. This isn't helping. Elara, you have until tonight to decide. We'll reconvene at sunset.
They dismiss me with a wave.
I walk out on wooden legs. Marcus tries to follow, but I lose him in the hallways. I need to think. Need to breathe.
I end up in the servants' quarters, in my tiny closet room. Sit on my thin mattress and stare at my bleeding, raw hands.
You could save everyone.
You'd be a hero.
You have nothing to lose.
The words circle my head like vultures.
A soft knock on my door. Elara? It's me.
Isabelle. My cousin. The woman who stole my fiancé.
Go away, I say.
She opens the door anyway. She's wearing a beautiful yellow dress that probably cost more than I'll earn in a year of scrubbing floors.
I heard what they asked you, she says quietly. I'm sorry.
Are you? I laugh, and it sounds broken. Are you really sorry, Isabelle?
She flinches. I didn't mean for things to happen this way. Theron just
Save it. I stand up. Why are you here?
Because I wanted to tell you... She takes a deep breath. I'll volunteer. In your place. It's the least I can do after after everything.
For a moment, hope flares in my chest. Then I see her handshaking so hard she has to clasp them together. See her eyes red from crying.
She doesn't want to go. She's terrified.
She's only offering because guilt is eating her alive.
No, I hear myself say.
What?
I said no. The words feel like they're coming from someone else. I'll do it. I'll volunteer.
Elara, you don't have to
Yes, I do. And suddenly, I realize it's true. Because if you go, they'll remember you as the hero who sacrificed herself. But I'll remember that you only offered because you felt guilty. I'll remember that you took everything from me, and then you tried to take my choice too.
Isabelle's face crumples. I'm trying to make things right.
You can't. I walk to the door, open it. Now get out.
She leaves, crying.
I close the door and lean against it.
Seven days until I walk up that mountain.
Seven days until I meet the Dragon King.
The strange thing is, I'm not scared anymore. I'm angry. Furious, actually.
They all think I'm going to my death.
Maybe I am.
But if I'm dying, I'm going to die on my terms. Not theirs.
I'm still standing there, planning, when my window explodes inward in a shower of glass.
I scream and duck as something crashes onto my floor something big and heavy and breathing.
When I look up, there's a creature in my room.
Not fully dragon. Not fully human. Something in between scales and skin, wings folded against a muscular back, silver eyes glowing in a face that's both terrifying and beautiful.
The Dragon King.
In my room.
Staring at me like he knows every secret I've ever kept.
You, he says, his voice rough and deep. You're the one they're going to send.
It's not a question.
I should scream. Should run. Should do literally anything except what I do.
I stand up straight, brush glass off my shoulders, and look him in the eye.
Yes, I say. I am.
His eyes narrow. Do you know what happened to the others?
They died.
And you're going anyway?
I don't have a choice.
Everyone has a choice.
Not when the alternative is watching children burn, I snap. Not when the alternative is hiding while someone else dies in my place.
Something flickers in those silver eyes. Surprise, maybe. Or respect.
He takes a step closer. What's your name?
Elara.
Elara, he repeats, like he's tasting it. Don't volunteer tomorrow.
My heart stops. What?
Don't volunteer, he says again. Tell them you won't go.
But the village
Will be fine. His wings shift restlessly. I'll find another way. Another village, another bride. You don't have to die for people who threw you away.
How does he know that? How does he know anything about me?
Why? I whisper. Why do you care?
He studies me for a long moment. Because you remind me of someone I lost. And I'm tired of watching people die.
He moves toward the broken window.
Wait! I don't know why I say it. What if I want to come anyway?
He freezes, turns back. Why would you want that?
Because at least in your castle, I matter. Even if it's only for a year. Even if I die. At least I matter.
Something painful crosses his face. You'll regret it.
Maybe. But it'll be my regret. My choice.
We stare at each other across my tiny room the Dragon King and the servant girl.
Seven days, he finally says. Think carefully, Elara. Once you enter my castle, there's no going back.
Then he's gone, launching through the window into the night sky, leaving me alone with broken glass and a decision that suddenly feels a lot more complicated.
Because the Dragon King just gave me a choice.
The first real choice anyone's given me in months.
And I have no idea what to do with it.