The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(8)
“You’re running away. Alone. With no way to protect yourself. And you’ve never been out there.” He waves his hand toward the Glass Forest. “Do you know why my family always arrives at your castle armed?”
“Because you are bloodthirsty barbarians,” I snap.
His eyes narrow. “The Glass Forest is infested with Trevonan renegades, Satari migrants, and mercenaries. If that lawless place is where you were planning to run, I think your chances will be better with the fire dragon. At least that way, you will have a quick death.”
I glance at the distant forest. I have always wanted to see it.
“When we are taught to read, we are also taught of the spell binding our two countries together. Do you know about the spell?” Golmarr asks.
“I know every single word of it, since it has been drilled into my head since I was old enough to speak! Three hundred years ago your ancestor tried to take over Faodara by waking the fire dragon that lives in the mountains that separate our countries. The dragon wreaked havoc, so our ancestors found a way to lock it in the mountain. My nurse used it as a bedtime story.”
Golmarr laughs and shakes his head. He takes a step closer, and for the first time ever I am glad that I am not short, because even with my height, it feels as if he is looming over me. “No. My ancestor did not try to take your land. Your king attacked Anthar, so my king woke the fire dragon, and it is not a bedtime story. It is in all of our history books.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I am familiar with the accounts of the fire dragon burning both of our countries, cooking our soldiers in their armor, destroying crops and herds, until your ancestor begged mine to stop the dragon’s slaughter in exchange for ending the war and signing a peace treaty. They tried but the fire dragon wouldn’t stop its rampage. It had taken a liking to cooked human flesh.”
He nods his head, and as if we read the exact same history books, continues, “Both of our ancestors combined all the treasure they possessed and bought a powerful spell from a wizard. To bind the fire dragon back inside the mountain, our two countries had to swear peace. To give the spell enough power to work, the Antharian king agreed that he and his progeny would bear only sons from that day forward. Your queens would bear only daughters. And each virgin daughter would be offered to the Antharian heir to renew the strength of the spell, or be fed to the fire dragon if she refuses to offer herself.”
I ball my hands into fists. “That is so unfair! Four of my great-grandmothers have been stolen away by your people in the past three hundred years. Two have chosen to be fed to the fire dragon. Why are the women—the virgins, no less—always the ones who have to be forced into a marriage?”
He shrugs, and I notice a piece of golden hay in his dark hair. “Your ancestor started the war, so you got the worse end of the deal. But none of your women were stolen away by my people. They came willingly and lived good, prosperous, fulfilling lives. Princess Sorrowlynn, if you do not offer yourself to my family, you will be fed to the fire dragon to renew the spell’s strength. If you do offer yourself, but we refuse, a lamb is offered in your place and you get to return home to your normal life.”
“And if I offer myself and am forced to marry your heir?”
“If you offer yourself and we accept, the dragon gets a lamb for dinner, and you get to come to the grasslands and learn to ride our horses. We’re not as uncivilized and bloodthirsty as you seem to think we are.” He steps even closer, and I can smell soap and cedar and leather. “Please,” he whispers, “just offer yourself.” I swallow and reach up to take the piece of hay out of his hair, but he grabs my hand and holds it against his chest. “I know we just met, and I know you were trying to steal my father’s horse, but I like you.” A slow smile warms his face, and I find myself staring at his mouth. “You make me want to smile for no reason. In my grandfather’s day, if a woman was brave enough to ride a horse lord’s stallion, he would drag her off and marry her. You are different from the other noblewomen of Faodara—fearless. I think you would like living in Anthar, and I think I would like having you live there.”
He stares down into my eyes, and my heart starts to pound. Aside from dancing in a packed ballroom the night before, and the rare arm of support offered by a guard or a coachman, I have never been touched by a man. Not the way he is touching me now, his warm fingers entwined in mine, our faces close. And then my heart starts pounding for a different reason. “Wait…since I stole your father’s horse, are you saying I’m more likely to be taken as the wife of your heir?”
He nods, and his fingers tighten on mine. “I wouldn’t mind stealing you away.”
The quiet morning comes alive with the sound of horses. “I told you not to touch me,” I snap, and step away from him as five mounted guards circle us, their hands on their sheathed swords.
“Princess Sorrowlynn, we have orders from your father to return you home immediately,” Ornald growls, glaring at the horse lord. His dark brown hair is standing straight up in the back, like he just rolled out of bed. “If you refuse, we have been ordered to return you by force.”
I swallow and study my shoes. Ornald was there three years ago, the day I was whipped for riding astride. When my father drew blood, Ornald took the willow switch and broke it. He was the captain of the guard. My father demoted him to the lowest-ranking position with no possibility of advancement.