Page 1 of In the Embrace of Dragons

Chapter One

NISSIA

There’s one thing that princesses are good for, and it’s marrying off. Securing alliances. Locking in treaties. We’re fancy cattle, meant to be traded for the good of our nations and our people.

Who cares what happens to us afterward?

“I can’t put on your makeup while you do that with your eyes,” snaps Ari, my handmaid—who is also my boss, my friend, my everything. “Look down. Stop blinking like that.”

Pushing one of her long braids away from her face, she draws a thick line of black kohl along my eyelids, from the tear duct to the outer edge and beyond. When I open my eyes, it looks like my lashes are ten times longer, my brown eyes ten times darker. She smears the kohl with her thumb at the edge, creating a shadow around the corner.

“You can hide behind this,” she says, stepping aside so I can get a better look at myself in the mirror. “Then he’s not seeing the real you. Not yet.”

Oh, he’ll see the real me soon enough. I’vealready been warned about what the dragons will require of me to properly seal the treaty.

No, a human marriage isn’t enough for them. Ink on paper isn’t enough for them. My new husband will take me back to his homeland with him, and there, the ceremony will truly be complete when...

“If you cry like that, it’s going to smear your makeup, then I’ll have to clean you off and start over,” Ari warns. So I pinch my lips together and try to stay cold as a stone, not thinking about what awaits me in the dragon’s country.

My father has known from the beginning that this was my fate—to be traded away for some greater purpose. I love him, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve always known that love had an expiration date. My father, his advisors, even my mother before she passed away, all knew: I was always intended to be married off in my twenty-fourth year, on the day that the treaty between our country and Selvumrrest, our neighbor to the north, was due to expire. It would need to be re-negotiated, and then sealed... with a marriage.

That’s how it’s done, how it has been done every thousand years to keep war between us at bay. It’s how it has always been done.

“I’ll be with you the whole time,” Ari says quietly, and I realize I’ve been staring down into my lap for the last few minutes. “You’re not alone, Niss.”

She squeezes my shoulder, so I grip her hand in mine, trying to take strength from her like I have before. Ari smiles reassuringly as I rise to my feet, standing significantly taller than she does. Her brown eyes pinch closed, her round cheeks even more prominent. I still don’t release her hand, because right now, it’s the only thing grounding me to the earth.

But nothing can change my future. Nothing can change what’s coming for me when I meet my future husband.

The dragon.

VIZARIOS

When the castle rises over the tops of the houses, it only takes one glance at Ragnakor for him to understand me. My guard captain walks on ahead, and the rest of the guards flank me as we approach.

We are expected, of course, but the sight of a battalion of dragons still takes the humans by surprise. News of our arrival spreads, and as we near, they open the city gates to allow us through. It’s been a long journey here, and it will be a long journey home. Unlike our great ancestors, we no longer have wings. That would greatly improve situations like this one. I could simply toss my new bride over my shoulder and flap my way back to Selvumrrest, rather than tolerating the monotonous trip with some strange woman I’ve never met.

Tradition.The word is a fucking curse. My advisor, Syzari, says it keeps the humans in their place—shows them where they stand on the food chain, which is rather close to the bottom. They trade one of their royals as the price for their safety, and our ancient, shriveling gene pool takes another desperate breath.

Yes, procreating with my new bride will be one of my many important duties in the coming years, and I do not relish the idea. But without offspring, my line will cease, and we are not prepared with an alternate who could take up my mantle.

My mother passed away last year, or else she would be here with me, entering the gates of the human city. We’d be passing down rows of shops and houses together—all tiny, dank things with few windows and ugly architecture—as weheaded toward the immense castle walls this silly human king thinks will keep him safe.

Dragons are gifted with claws and teeth and thick hides, which make us far more fearsome warriors than humans are. Especially Ragnakor, who has never lost a sword fight. He is the tallest, the largest, and the most skilled. Graced in every way. The humans wouldn’t stand a chance against us.

My frown deepens as the castle gates open, and more heavily armored guards wait. Inside the palace gates, I dismount my horse, and my entourage stops to wait for the human king to come out and greet us. The castle is well maintained, the stone straight and polished, very much unlike where I come from. Our world is ancient, our structures from a time long past—insulated and sturdy, built to withstand the test of time.

Humans are not meant for such things. Merely cattle.

I bristle as we wait and wait. Ragnakor casts me a look but is otherwise stoic. He knows how much I hate waiting, and to be made to wait for a human?

Then, at last, the doors open and out steps the king, a stout man in a long cape, with deep brown skin and close-cropped black hair. He wears an ostentatious crown on his head as if just to remind us who he is.

I don’t need a crown for anyone to know I’m a king.

“King Vizarios,” the human says, bowing his head. I only nod in return, keeping the hierarchy intact. We allow these silly creatures to rule themselves. Though he is a king in title, he is still subservient to me.

I will be sure to remind him of that while I’m here.