The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(7)

“You are stealing my father’s prize stallion,” he growls. My face burns with shame, but I hold my chin high and scowl into his furious eyes. He studies me for a moment, taking in my wild hair, pink cloak, and skirt, which is bunched around the tops of my boots, and his eyes narrow. “For my entire life, I have been told that your noblewomen are soft, submissive, and meek. You are not, are you?”

“I certainly am,” I insist, glaring and folding my arms across my chest.

Golmarr’s eyes soften, and then his mouth curves up at the edges and he smiles. His teeth are straight and gleam against his tan skin, and for some reason, when he smiles, my lips want to return it. “Did you like riding him?”

“Yes,” I whisper, sighing and running my hand over the horse’s neck. “If I die today, I will be glad this is the last thing I did.”

His smile fades. “Do you mean if you are offered to the fire dragon?” I nod. “They only feed you to the dragon if you refuse to offer yourself in marriage to my clan. Just say you’ll marry into my family and your mother will sacrifice a lamb in your place.”

I think of Ingvar and his wife and shudder. “I will not wed your brother. I would rather die!”

“What if I told you you could wed any of us?”

I recoil. “You are all violent barbarians.”

“You would rather be sacrificed to a dragon than marry an Antharian prince? Is your opinion of us truly so low?” he asks, glowering at me.

I study him. Aside from the scabbed cut on his cheek, his skin is flawless, his eyebrows and eyelashes are as dark as his hair, and his fierce eyes are like a swirl of pale brown and gold and green. Looking at him makes my heart beat a little faster, and I want to smile again for no reason. Something stirs deep inside of my chest, and I cannot think of any words to answer him.

At my silence, his eyes darken with anger. “So the possibility of being a future queen, of having wealth and power, of riding our horses whenever you choose, in clothing more suited to the sport”—he gestures at my skirt—“doesn’t make it all worth it? You would rather die a horrible death than marry a horse lord?”

“I just turned sixteen! Being forced to marry a forty-year-old man—”

“Ingvar is forty-two,” Golmarr interjects.

“He’s old enough to be your father!”

“Ingvar’s mother died in battle. My father remarried a younger woman, and she gave him two more sons.” He throws his hands up in the air. “What does his age matter, anyhow? He is the heir to the most prosperous kingdom in the world.”

I shudder. “Being forced to marry a forty-two-year-old man who already has a wife is not worth any price! And they haven’t actually fed any princesses to the fire dragon for more than one hundred years!” I yell, and grab the pommel of my saddle as the stallion shifts nervously beneath me.

“That’s because for the last hundred years your women have all willingly submitted to be married to our future king!” he yells back, leaning so close to me that his horse bumps mine, and I can see little flecks of gold around his pupils. “Aren’t you familiar with the terms of the Mountain Binding?”

“Of course I am!”

“The Mountain Binding,” he says, disregarding me, “is the agreement our two kingdoms made three hundred and six years ago. The reason your family always has girls, and mine always has boys.” He tilts his head to the side and studies me. “Do you know any of this? Don’t they teach you this when you’re a child learning to read? You do know how to read, right?”

“Of course I know how to read,” I snap. “I told you, I am well acquainted with the terms of the Binding. I am well taught in all areas!”

His black eyebrows slowly rise. “But you’ve never been taught how to wield a dagger.”

I put my hand over my hip and press on the concealed weapon. “I beg your pardon? Why would you say that?”

“Because if you knew how to use it, you wouldn’t carry it beneath layers of clothing. You would carry it somewhere easily accessible. Like this.” Out of nowhere he produces a wicked-looking dagger and twirls it around in his fingers a few times before slowly and deliberately putting it back up his sleeve.

I huff my breath out and put my nose in the air. “I know how to use it,” I say, my voice haughty. In a flash, he is off his horse and pulling me down from mine. One of his arms cinches around my neck, the other pulls my body firmly against his, and I flail and thrash at him. I scream and scratch his arms, and try to pry myself from his grasp.

“See what I mean?” he says, releasing me. I stumble away, and he grabs my elbow to make sure I don’t fall.

“Do not touch me, sir!” I yank my elbow out of his grasp. Stepping farther from him, I smooth the front of my dress.

“If you had been trained to use that dagger, you would have had it out the moment I grabbed you. Self-defense is the first thing a woman of your rank should be taught.”

“My people aren’t violent like yours. I don’t need the dagger. That’s what the guards are for,” I say, mimicking Diamanta. I gather my long hair and start twisting it back up into a bun.

“And when you are alone?”

“I’m never alone when I’m in the castle, and I’m not allowed to leave the castle grounds.” Once the words leave my mouth I wish I could take them back.