Page 15 of In the Embrace of Dragons

It feels like even the walls are closing in as we progress deeper, and then finally, we turn a corner and Zephala stops. She unlocks an elaborate wooden door and pulls it open for me.

“Your rooms are all prepared,” she says. “We were expecting you soon.”

I step through, and the warm glow of candles greets me. Inside, everything is autumnal in color, from the chairs and sofas in the sitting room, to the bedspread and the curtains hanging from the four-poster bed.

Zephala gestures to another doorway.

“Through here is where we will take care of your, erm,” she looks me up and down, “hair. And dressing. Though you’ll have to forgive me, as I haven’t had much experience with human hair.”

I study her as I put my bag down. “Will you be my handmaiden?”

Again, Zephala bows. “Yes, to that effect. Do you want to settle in while I unpack your belongings?”

I feel like that’s something I ought to do myself, but she’s buzzing about like an eager bee, so I grant her permission and lie back down on the big bed.

At last, areal bed. You don’t realize how much you’ve gotten used to the discomfort of life on the road until you’re in a soft bed again. Then I slip on my silk pillowcase—a tiny piece of home.

I close my eyes while Zephala busies about with my bags. Soon, others arrive with the trunks from the carriage, and sheunloads those, too. But I’ve lost track of her because I’m already asleep.

VIZARIOS

It is good to be home, to wake up in my own bed again. But my pleasure is immediately dampened by what awaits me today in the ceremonial hall.

I take my time getting ready, having my breakfast in my rooms and spending as long as I like in the bath until the water is tepid. Wisely, Ragnakor doesn’t come to check on me, so I’m left alone with my meal and my apprehension.

All the wardens of my kingdom will be here to oversee the ceremony and witness the beginning of a new era, where Nissia and I rule together. Our offspring will take over after us and continue my family line.

Of course, she will be a queen only in name. I hope she understands that, but if she doesn’t, we will have a short and sweet discussion about it before we retire to our separate rooms. Hers is around the corner and down the hall, close enough that it’s suitable but not so close that I’ll run into her often.

Finally, the knock comes at my door, and Ragnakor leans in.

“It’s time, Your Majesty.”

Getting this news from him is yet one more kick in the gut. He will be there tonight, watching everything.

For a long moment I say nothing, simply observing him—his stout face with the short horns, how his deep, inset eyes say so much while also holding even more back.

I rise to my feet and gesture for him to lead us to the ceremony. It is an ancient tradition, one I can’t avoid, though Idetest everything about it. This time, I do dress in my ceremonial garb. Not that I’ll be wearing it for long.

Ragnakor and I wind down hallways to the ceremonial hall, a towering stone behemoth of a space where a great marble pedestal stands in the center. It’s been brought out for the occasion, and the raised edges are littered with soft pillows and blankets, all rimmed in gold tassels befitting royalty.

When I enter, everyone I expected is there in attendance, including each of my twelve wardens. Syzari stands in the front row alongside other high-ranking members of the city elite. Ragnakor deposits me in front of the dais and then steps aside to join the circle around the pedestal.

If only it was he up here with me, instead.

The opposite door opens with a creak, and in strides Princess Nissia. She has been cleaned and re-dressed in the style of dragon royalty, draped with long reams of white fabric that are cinched at the waist with gold and metal. Her breasts appear much larger now, not bound up as they were on our journey here, and the swooping fabric reveals the tops of her twin mounds. The outfit parts at her hip, revealing all of her long thigh on one side.

For a moment, I envision where that thigh leads, and saliva pools in my mouth.

When she enters and sees just how many are in attendance, the princess freezes. Her eyes search the room, eventually landing on me. Her assigned caretaker, Zephala, urges her inside, which jolts her out of her trance.

Her surprise falters into what looks more like fear, and for a moment, I worry they haven’t told her what comes next. But then she approaches the dais, and after a glance back at Zephala—who gives her an encouraging nod—she climbs onto the pedestal. There, she rests on her knees and lifts her gaze to mine.

Now it is my turn.

I approach the dais, dressed in similarly draped robes. I breathe deeply to try to expel the emotion from my body and do what I need to do in order to seal this marriage and renew the treaty. Princess Nissia’s brown eyes are huge as she watches me approach her, her chest heaving with her quick breaths. She reaches for the fabric hanging over her shoulder and tugs it down, revealing one whole breast to me.

I’m not prepared for it. It’s a large, round globe, hanging in a teardrop shape, and so very different from a dragon’s breast. Her nipples top a broad circle of darker skin, and this one is peaked and tight. Perhaps an effect of the cold in the room.