I look down at him and take in every detail of his humiliation – the way his nightshirt has twisted around his torso, how his hair is plastered to his forehead with sweat. He’s broken – a great lord reduced to this writhing creature who can’t even get out of bed without falling. I feel disgust curl in my stomach, but I keep my face neutral.
My mother is crying softly, and Klara rushes in and puts an arm around her shoulders to guide her away from the scene.
I stand and bend down to help my father back into bed. He’s lighter than he should be, all bones and loose skin under my hands. I settle him against the pillows and pull the blankets up to his chest with more care than he deserves.
“Mother,” I say without looking at her. I don’t want to see her tear-stained face. “Go and have another cup of tea. It will calm your nerves while I take care of Father.”
She hesitates, and I can feel her eyes on me. But the servant guides her toward the door.
“You will not,” my father rasps. “I forbid it. A human wife is a disgrace to our house and everything we stand for.”
“Drink this,” I say as I pour him a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside table. “You’re going to make yourself worse if you keep carrying on like this.”
He tries to push it away, but I’m stronger than him. I tip the glass, and the water runs into his mouth and down his throat. He drinks half of it.
“You will not... I forbid... a human wife... what disgrace...” His words come slower and more slurred.
His eyelids droop, and the tension drains from his body. Drool begins to leak from the corner of his mouth. His eyes roll back in his head until only the whites are showing. Within moments, he’s unconscious and breathing deeply.
I stand and walk to the window. I open it to let the spring air rush in and clear away the sickroom smell of sweat and medicine. Then I lift the glass and pour the rest of the water out. It splashes on the stones below.
I turn back to look at my father, and take in the sight of him lying there, so small and weak under the blankets. His body is so diminished now, nothing like the towering figure who used to fill every room with his presence and his rage.
“I am not like you,” I whisper. “I’ll go to the bride market and take a human wife, and prove to you and to myself that I am not like you.”
Chapter Three
Tressa
I stand on the auction block in my deep blue velvet dress, and I can’t stop shaking. The early morning sun beats down on the open field outside the city walls. Every monster in the crowd has their eyes locked on me. More than half of them are leering, their gazes crawling over my body like insects I can’t brush away. I should have worn something drab and forgettable, but here I am in velvet and a corset that shows off my breasts, and I might as well have painted a target on my chest.
The bidding has been going for twenty minutes now, and the prices have climbed to heights I never imagined. The auctioneer stands beside me on his raised platform – a tall, broad man in his fifties who maintains a professional demeanor despite the chaos of voices shouting numbers at him. When he introduced me to the crowd, he said nothing about my past and the Velvet Angels. I kept that secret to myself because I didn’t want to discourage bidders, but now I wonder if I made a terrible mistake.
A massive troll with crooked teeth grins up at me from the front of the crowd. My stomach turns. He’s been bidding aggressively, and he’s not my type at all. I know I can refuse any bidder I want, but will I actually say no when the alternative is watching my father die?
“Four hundred gold!” the troll shouts.
Four hundred gold is twice what my father owes. It should be enough, but the thought of going anywhere with that troll makes my skin crawl.
“Four hundred fifty!” he bellows, puffing up his chest.
The sky darkens, and I look up to see a massive, winged shadow pass overhead. The crowd falls silent as a mighty dragon with golden scales circles above us, his wings blocking out thesun. He circles once, twice, and everyone seems to be holding their breath. He descends, and when he lands at the back of the crowd, the ground shakes and dust rises in clouds.
I strain to see over everyone’s heads. I watch as the dragon shifts into his human form. The transformation happens quickly, scales melting into skin, and the crowd reacts with gasps and murmurs of awe. It’s not often that dragons leave their kingdom to walk among the rest of us.
The crowd parts like water as a tall, broad man with golden hair walks toward the front. He’s dressed in black and gold, the high collar of his coat framing a face that’s sharp and handsome. His golden wings are spread wide behind him, and a thick tail swishes from left to right as he moves. He walks with confidence, casual and unhurried, as if he owns the ground beneath his feet and everything on it.
He stops a few feet from the auction block and looks up at me.
I gasp.
I know him.
A chill runs up my spine, my stomach roils, and I press a hand to it to stop myself from being sick.
His blue eyes go wide when he sees my face, and he actually takes a step back before he catches himself. He straightens his shoulders and composes himself, his expression smoothing into something unreadable, as if he didn’t just react to seeing me standing here.
My heart pounds in my chest and my hands shake.
