Page 43 of Dragon Heir

True frowns, but then he bobs his head in acknowledgement. He can’t argue with me anymore, now that I’m a princess and he’s my guard.

I realize with a start that he has to do whatever I want. They all do.

Hmm, this might get interesting.

Chapter Eighteen

In the following days, I find that the threat of being captured by the Dragon King is a rather effective motivator for me to take this queen business seriously. I’m decidedly less apt at royal training than training to be a Scholar, but I’ve been a good student all my life. I listen intently to the knowledge Sinetar imparts, but the physical challenges are, well, a challenge. I’ve always been more of a student than an athlete, though Pax always made me go for runs with him, so I’m fairly fast and have good stamina on the track Sinetar shows me.

Kimbra takes notes for me and whispers small bits of helpful advice. She’s all soft smiles and polite words. Yadira, on the other hand, is blunt and even disdainful once she realizes I won’t have her executed for her impertinence.

In truth, I sort of like it. At least she’s genuine.

Nevertheless, I’m not trusting enough to let down my guard around either of them, which makes court a lonely place for me.

We usually train in my wing of the palace, but today, Sinetar leads my entourage and me into a cavernous room that reminds me of the library back at DLSA… If the library was a huge empty dome without books, that is.

“This is Palace Central,” Master Sinetar says. “Everything in the palace connects up here.”

“It’s also the ballroom,” Kimbra says, eyes sparkling with longing.

“Will I need to learn to dance?” I ask. “Is that part of the queen’s job description?”

I ask the question with a polite smile, but in my head, I’m asking if I really need to prettify the process of being bred by eight dragon shifters.

Obviously I can’t say that, so I just hold my grin.

Before Sinetar can answer, a door to my left swings wide and fog billows into the ballroom. A chilly wind blows my hair aside before the breeze abruptly redirects—likely Sinetar’s doing. The fog remains, settling around my ankles. There’s a light tinkling sound, and then a girl steps into the room. Her bodice is entirely blue gems, matching her bright blue eyes and dramatic eye shadow. She’s about my age, thin, and tall. Her gown is a golden color just a few shades darker than her wheat-blonde hair. She’s beautiful and regal, with round cheeks, a button nose, and plump lips.

Six guards step through the door and form a line behind her.

“Sister,” she greets me, her smile a fragile thing. She folds her hands over her waist. “I’ve been aching to meet you, but you’ve been so busy with your duties as heir.”

My mind immediately screams, “You are not my sister!”

I have a sister, and she’s crass and reckless and human. I should have stayed home with her. I should have stayed in our little village and had a couple more happy months with my family before the dragons forced me to court. But that’s not fair to this girl. She didn’t ask to be the sword hanging over my head. Not only that, but she already had a taste of my worst nightmare—being a captive in an enemy kingdom.

I owe her a chance.

I nod, only to have Kimbra hiss in my ear, “Don’t bow to her. She curtsies to you.”

“Princess Shynia,” I say, remembering the name that Sinetar told me a few days ago. “I’ve been hoping to meet you also.”

“The pleasure is all mine, your highness.” Princess Shynia curtsies low to the floor as her guards give deep bows. When she stands again, her light blue eyes are fixed on me. She’s ice kingdom, I remember, and I wonder if that’s what makes her seem so unreal, like a living, breathing doll. “Please forgive me,” she says, “But I overheard you asking if you needed to learn to dance, and I thought that you must be sharing a joke.”

She sounds friendly enough, but there is no ignoring the passive-aggressive undertone to her question. I glance back at my ladies who wear pleasant expressions that look just a little too neutral.

“Nope,” I say. “No jokes here.”

“Well, of course you’ll need to know how to dance,” she says before raising a hand to her mouth and tittering into her palm, dimples sinking into her plump cheeks. “How else will you entertain your suitors?”

“Shouldn’t my suitors be entertaining me?”

“I think you’ll find, Princess Shynia, that our future queen has a wicked sense of humor,” Sinetar says, his body stiffening into a straight, formal pose like that of my guards.

“The effect of being raised by humans, I suppose.” Even though the girl gives me a wide smile, I’m pretty sure she’s openly insulting me, albeit slyly. She gazes down at the floor, as if bashful. Her blonde hair is swept into an elegant, intricate knot on top of her head. “You’ll be very busy with suitors. Just like dear mama. I hear you’ve already met her?”

“Briefly.”