The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(3)
I shudder at the memory of Ingvar’s eyes examining my body, at the thought of bearing his children. “That’s the point,” I say, keeping my ribs as wide as possible. “The worse I look, the less likely I am to be picked for the heir’s future bride. And besides, I think it is ridiculous that we still do this horrendous, ancient Mountain Binding ceremony. I do not see how my agreeing to marry a scruffy old brute will have the power to keep a fire-breathing dragon locked beneath a mountain. And if I don’t agree to marry him, will I truly be fed to the dragon? That is savage, and inhumane, and crazy.”
“Did you learn nothing from our history tutors?” Diamanta asks, glaring at me. “Three centuries ago, the Antharian king woke the dragon with the intent to have it destroy Faodara, but it didn’t follow the king’s orders. The beast nearly destroyed both of our countries before a wizard’s binding spell was able to imprison the vile creature. Unfortunately, the spell requires an ongoing sacrifice to work, which—”
“Is dependent on me sacrificing myself to the Antharian heir in order to keep the dragon locked away,” I blurt. “I listened to our tutors.”
“You’re not exactly sacrificing yourself, just offering yourself in marriage. It’s only if you refuse to offer yourself in marriage that you are sacrificed to the fire dragon. But the Antharians haven’t picked anyone from our line for three generations. I doubt they will change that for you, considering they turned down Gloriana two years ago. She’s more pleasant and more pretty than you. And so are Harmony and I, and they didn’t take any of us. If they didn’t want us, they’re definitely not going to pick you.”
I glower at her, but she’s right. My three older sisters have thick, golden blond hair, blue eyes, and gentle curves. I have unruly brown hair and green eyes, and not quite as many curves, not to mention I stand half a head taller than all three of them. If they didn’t pick any of my sisters, what makes me think they will pick me? All the air swooshes out of my lungs. Diamanta uses the opportunity to cinch the corset into place before I can take another breath, and I can feel my ribs compacting.
“It’s just a silly tradition. For all we know, the fire dragon is long dead,” she says.
“If it is a silly tradition and nothing more, why do we still do it?”
“We do it for two reasons. To keep peace between Faodara and Anthar, and just to be safe; if the dragon is still down there, we don’t want to risk setting him free.” With nimble fingers, Diamanta ties the corset laces. She looks at my reflection in the mirror and grins as she runs her hands down both sides of my ribs. “Look how tiny your waist is now.” Her grin turns to a frown and her hand pauses just above my hip. “What is this lump?”
I smile and say, “It is my dagger, dear sister.” Diamanta’s eyebrows creep up her forehead and for a moment fear darkens her eyes. I know she is thinking of my fate blessing, thinking something like, Is Sorrow going to kill herself with her own hand to avoid an arranged marriage? “I’m not going to kill myself!” I bellow, rolling my eyes.
“Then why are you wearing a dagger to dine with the horse king and his sons? To cut your food?”
“It is the dagger the wizard Melchior gave me when I turned eight. He told me to always wear a weapon for protection, so I do. If you think I should take it off, undo my corset and I will,” I say, my voice taunting.
“Melchior gave that to you? After what he predicted at your birth, that’s a pretty sadistic gift. Maybe he didn’t vanish. Maybe Mother found out about that knife and had him secretly beheaded.” Diamanta puts her hands on her hips and smirks. “You don’t need to wear that dagger because you won’t need to protect yourself. That is what the guards are for.” A gleam flashes in her blue eyes. “And it’s not like you’re going to be able to use it without undressing first. I can see it now. Please don’t try to kill me yet! I have to strip so that I can get my dagger and defend myself!” She puts a hand to her chest and starts giggling.
I shrug and try to sigh, but I can’t get enough air into my lungs. “And if I die from lack of oxygen? Nona didn’t get my corset nearly this tight yesterday.”
Diamanta smiles her perfect, practiced smile. “Nona is too lenient with you. That is why Mother sent me to dress you. That is why I volunteered to dress you when Mother asked Gloriana and me for help.” Her smile turns from perfect to devious as she examines me.
I look into the mirror and study myself. The dress beneath the corset is bright, sunset red, and goes up to my neck. The corset is a deep bloodred velvet with black stitching. If I look hard enough I can barely make out the bulge of the dagger above my hip. Diamanta steps up to me and places a tiny diamond tiara atop my head. It nearly disappears in the brown curls. “Well. You look surprisingly good for your first ball ever,” she says. “And if you don’t return to Anthar as a bride, you get to start looking for a Faodarian husband. Shall we go down to the dining hall and consort with the horse lords and the nobles?”
All three of my sisters were married to handsome young noblemen shortly after they turned sixteen and were refused by the horse clan. I have never even spoken to a boy close to my age.
We step out into the corridor. The air is slightly moist and heavy with the smells of roasted meat and fresh-baked bread. As we approach the great hall, Diamanta asks, “Are you ready for your big debut?” I shake my head and she laughs. “I was counting the days until I was old enough to be out in society. Once you get past your first-ball jitters, you’ll love having a social life.”