“Why did you buy me?” I ask. “What do you want from me?”
“I only want to return you to your rightful place,” he says.
“What?”
“You left, and that was a mistake I always hoped to fix,” he explains, his voice casual as if we’re discussing the weather. “Humans never leave a wyvern’s service. You belong to HouseAurellion. You belong to me. Once my servant, always my servant.”
“You bought me to serve you?” I ask.
He laughs, and it’s a mocking sound that cuts through me like a blade.
“Why? Did you think I bought you to be my bride?”
My blood boils with hate and anger. I want to throw something at him, to scream and make him hurt the way I’m hurting. But I stand frozen as he shifts into his wyvern form before my eyes. I take several steps back to give him space, and I watch as his body expands and changes, scales covering his skin.
He turns his massive head toward me. His eyes are blue and serpent-like, with vertical slits for pupils. Two horns crown his head, and his fangs gleam in the morning light.
“Hop on,” he says, his voice deeper and rougher in this form. “I’ll give you a ride to the palace.”
“Like you gave Brandon a ride?” I sneer at him.
He shakes his head and shows his fangs in what might be a smile or a threat.
“Smart choice,” he says. “It would be a disgrace for a human to ride a wyvern.”
He motions with his head toward a carriage at the edge of the field, where a driver waits on the seat with the reins in his hands.
“Take the carriage,” Altair says. “You know where the palace is. I’ll pay the driver when you arrive.”
Then he spreads his wings and takes flight. The wind from his ascent nearly knocks me off my feet. I’m left standing in the dust he kicked up, shaking, sick, and furious.
I feel sickened by our interaction, by his words, by the reality of what I’ve just done. I consider fleeing, running back to the city and disappearing into the streets where he’ll never find me. What if I don’t do as he says? He can go to hell.
But I did sign a contract, and Altair did pay me eight hundred gold, minus the auctioneer’s fee. There’s even more gold coming, gold that will save Alana and her sisters, and give my father a chance to live. I made my choice, and I can’t back down now.
I know the Aurellions are mad; I’ve always known it. I can deal with Altair, I tell myself.
I walk toward the carriage, doing my best not to stumble. Because my knees are weak and my whole body screams at me to bolt.
Chapter Four
Altair
I stand at the top of the staircase and watch the carriage approach from the distance, kicking up dust on the road that leads to the palace. I fly faster than any horse-drawn carriage can travel, and I’ve had time to prepare for Tressa’s arrival. The carriage stops at the base of the staircase, and I motion to a nearby servant to pay the driver. The door opens.
Tressa steps out in her blue velvet dress, and my chest tightens at the sight of her. She stops with one hand still on the door and takes a deep breath. Her shoulders rise and fall as she looks up at the massive building, her eyes scanning the towers and walls. I notice she is shaking. I can see the pain on her face, the way her jaw clenches and her free hand curls into a fist. Just standing here is hurting her. I know exactly why.
My gaze shifts to the west wing. This is where Brandon died fourteen years ago. My best friend fell from that tower, his body plummeting down until it hit the cobblestones below to be crushed into pieces. Brandon was the person I loved more than anyone. More than my mother, more than myself.
Grief and guilt tighten inside my chest. I know exactly what Tressa is feeling, because I feel the same pain every single day. Every time I look at the west tower, every time I walk through its halls, I remember what happened and that I caused it.
The knowledge that I brought her back here, that I forced her to face this place again after all these years, makes me hate myself. But she hates me more, and I need her hatred like I need air. Her hatred is my punishment, my penance, exactly what I deserve.
Tressa takes another deep breath and starts climbing the stairs toward me. I watch her approach and see the determination in her stride. I force myself to school my featuresinto cold indifference, pushing all emotion down until there is nothing left but the mask of the cruel wyvern lord. My expression hardens, becomes imperious and dismissive, like my father taught me. When she reaches the top step, I turn on my heel without a word and lead her inside through the massive front doors.
I walk her through the grand entrance hall with its soaring ceiling, up the main staircase with its ornate railings, and down corridors lined with tapestries and paintings. The palace is quiet around us, empty of servants who have learned to stay out of their lord’s way.
Tressa follows in silence, her footsteps echoing on the marble floors. We reach the south wing, and I stop at a door right next to my own chambers. I open it and step aside, gesturing for her to enter.
