The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(9)

Golmarr steps up beside me, so close that our arms bump. “Is something wrong?” he asks. “Last night I invited the princess to go riding with me. I did not realize Lord Damar would be sending guards after us.” I take a deep breath and look up. Ornald glances from the horse lord to me, his green eyes guarded. “I’m not familiar with your rules. If I broke some sort of conduct, I ask that you blame me, not her.”

“You’re out all alone with our virgin princess,” Ornald snaps. “It didn’t occur to you that that is unacceptable?”

“On my honor as a prince of Anthar, I swear to you that I have behaved with integrity and honor, and have had only the princess’s best interest at heart. My family and her family have a long-standing relationship of mutual respect. I meant no harm by inviting her out for a ride.” I glance at Golmarr from the corner of my eye. For a barbarian, he is well spoken.

Ornald’s gaze moves down the horse lord and stops on his bare feet. “Where are your shoes, boy?” he asks.

Golmarr looks at me and grins, and his eyes fill with mischief. “Princess Sorrowlynn was in such a hurry to leave this morning that I didn’t have time to put them on.” The guards laugh, Golmarr laughs, and I look right into his eyes and smile. “It doesn’t help that I slept in the stables, either,” he adds, pulling the piece of hay from his hair. “I had a feeling that the princess might want to leave before sunrise.” He winks.

My eyes grow round, and my cheeks start to burn. He knew. All along he knew I was going to run.

“Well, mount up, and let’s get back to the castle,” Ornald says, dismounting to help me mount the stallion. “Nona is hysterical. You are supposed to be getting ready for the ceremony, Princess.”





I am bathed and oiled and perfumed. My nails are filed down, and my hair is braided into a coil around my head again. I am dressed in white lace bloomers and a matching camisole, four white petticoats, a voluminous white skirt, and a baggy white shirt that is buttoned up to my neck. Nona wraps a white pearl-encrusted corset around the white shirt. I don’t have the heart to fill my lungs as she laces it up, so by the time she is done, I can barely breathe, and the late breakfast I ate is being squished. When she is not looking, I tie a silk handkerchief around my wrist. Taking the dagger from my dressing table, I slide it beneath the handkerchief and let the baggy fabric of my sleeve fall over it.

Nona presses a pair of white velvet slippers into my hands. Her fingers are like ice. “Put these on, love.”

I point to the corset. “There’s no way I will be able to reach my feet when I am wearing this thing.” Nona shakes her head and kneels at my feet, helping me with the slippers. “They’re going to get ruined the moment I step out of the carriage.”

“A major drawback to having the ceremony in the mountains,” Nona replies, standing.

“White is so expensive. I don’t see why I have to wear everything white when it will get dirty. And pearls?”

“The offering has to be a virgin, and white represents virginity. The fire dragon will know the difference. You also need to remember that if the Antharian heir takes you for his bride, tonight will be your wedding night. This may be your wedding dress.” She runs her fingers over the pearls on my corset, and I imagine they are Ingvar’s old, thick hands. This morning, Golmarr said that in his grandfather’s day, if a woman rode a horse lord’s horse, she would be taken for his wife. I rode a horse lord’s horse. Golmarr seemed to think that because of my actions, Ingvar will be more likely to accept me.

“If I refuse them, will they truly feed me to the dragon?” I ask, my voice shaking.

Nona’s plump cheeks pale. “Don’t refuse them, and we won’t have to find out.” She starts chewing her thumbnail.

“What is it?” I ask.

She removes her thumb from her mouth and says, “You’re looking at this all wrong, Sorrowlynn. By sacrificing your own desires and saying you will marry the Antharian heir, you are protecting your people and the Antharian people from the fire dragon. You are sparing hundreds of thousands of lives. Do you recall that a century ago, the kingdom of Satar was destroyed by the stone dragon and the Satari fled to the Glass Forest? And in Ilaad, the people are now confined to their cities. They can only travel by boat from port to port, because if they set foot in the desert, the sandworm eats them. Now bend down so I can put this in your hair.” She holds up a pearl tiara. I lean forward, and she pins it into place. Before I can stand, she slips something over my head. An icy chain falls around my neck. “There. All done.”

I look down. She has put a long gold necklace on me. It hangs as low as my belly button. I lift it and look at what is dangling at the bottom of the chain. It is an oval flask the size of my palm and almost matches the color of the pearls on my corset. I hold it up to the sunlight streaming through the window, and it glows orange.

“What is this?” I ask, my voice filled with wonder.

“Strickbane poison,” Nona says as matter-of-factly as if she had said water.

“Strickbane?” I drop the flask. It pulls the gold chain taut against my neck and clinks against the pearls on my corset. Strickbane, even absorbed through the skin, is lethal.

“It’s a family tradition,” Nona says, her brow furrowed.

“Tradition? None of my sisters wore this to their ceremonies.”