“Easy, Princess. I'll offer you no harm. I just want to look upon what's mine. Something to tide me over until our wedding night. Unless you'd like to submit to me now?”
“Look your fill,” I ground my teeth together and dropped my arms. But then he started to pull up my shift, and I snatched at his hands again.
“Just a look,” Saunder promised, his blood-red eyes gleaming. “And maybe a little taste.”
“No,” I ground out. “I'll allow you your look, as long as you don't touch me.”
“Bargaining already,” Saunder smirked. “Very well. I find myself in a generous mood since you have pleased me by accepting our engagement. Remove your shift.”
I pulled the dress over my head and stared at the floor as he stared at me. His hand reached out, and I jerked my angry eyes up to his. Saunder held up his hands in a surrendering gesture, smiling wickedly. But he wasn't surrendering. He was taking everything he wanted with his stare. Saunder looked me over lazily, walking around me in a circle, and then finally, he took the shift from me and helped me back into it. Then he lifted the gown around me and laced the back. When I was fully dressed, Saunder pulled a ring from his pocket and slipped it onto my finger.
“I have claimed you now,” he kissed my cheek. “By might, by sight, and by right. You are mine.”
He left me without another word. I looked down at the ring upon my finger. It was a thick band of gold with a shield shaped crest on top. The crest had a dragon carved into it, filled in with black enamel, wings spread wide. It was Saunder's house crest.
“So, a dragon's bride it is,” I sighed and went back to my seat at the window.
Chapter Four
The days went by slowly, filled mostly with waiting. The boredom was preferable to the company of Saunder or his parents. They were delighted that he'd chosen a bride, not at all upset in the manner by which he'd accomplished it. I was treated as if I were an honored guest. As if I were truly Saunder's betrothed by choice. His mother, Queen Meara, brought me silks to choose from and seamstresses to construct my wedding raiments. Meara loved dressing me, combing my hair, and generally playing with me like I was her personal porcelain doll. Through it all, she would lecture me on ways to please her son. Disgusting suggestions which never should have passed a queen's lips, especially not in the presence of her soon-to-be daughter-in-law. I abhorred Queen Meara, and turned a deaf ear to most of what she said.
Saunder's father, King Malcolm, was usually quiet. I suppose that was better than his wife's endless filth spewing. But within his silence, King Malcolm constantly cast thoughtful looks at me. Speculating looks which made me feel like prey. I wasn't sure what those looks meant. If he was assessing me as his future daughter-in-law, in terms of the wealth and land I could add to his kingdom. Or if he was thinking about the children that would surely come from the union. Whatever it was, it was creepy, and I tried not to look at King Malcolm at all. So between Saunder's parents, I was deaf and blind. I tried to be mute as well, saying very little unless spoken to directly. It seemed the best way to survive the situation.
The wedding plans would take a month, but during that time, Saunder intended to have a daily look at his prize. I became used to it. Every morning he would enter my bedroom and help me dress... after he undressed me and stared his fill. Saunder was getting more and more intimate during these morning sessions. He started with fluttering touches which progressively became bolder. It was only a week until our wedding, and Saunder had advanced into full on groping sessions.
Our latest session ended at last, and Saunder kissed me deeply, bending me back over his arm and kneading at a breast through my dress. I slid my arms around his neck, giving him the barest of encouragement so that he would go away pleased. It was better than the alternative. Saunder did finally leave, smiling widely at me as he closed my bedroom door. The bastard actually thought I wanted him.
I dropped into my usual chair and gave a deep sigh. I would not cry, not even now, when I had come to the realization that I was becoming an accomplished whore without ever losing my maidenhood.
When I looked up from my rare moment of self-pity, I saw him. He was standing before me, a cocky smile on his pale face, his dark hair wind tossed within the shadows of his hood, and his even darker eyes staring at me like I was a piece of treasure he wanted to steal from the dragon's hoard. Behind him, the window was missing three panes of glass. Yet I hadn't even heard a whisper of sound. That was the magnificent skill which Robyn possessed.
He dropped to his knees before me and bowed his head briefly, “I am Robyn. I've come to rescue you, Princess Adelysia.”
“What?” I stood up in shock. “How?”
“Just take my hand,” Robyn stood as well, and extended his hand to me.
It was a good hand. Not too big, but still very strong, with long, nimble fingers. Robyn himself was at least a foot taller than I was, and had ropes of muscle cording his body that made Saunder seem like an ogre. Robyn was more sleekly built, a man who could climb the side of a sheer castle with very little effort. And one who could climb back down with a princess hanging on his back.
The ocean swept nearly up to the cliff which the dragon castle was perched upon. Robyn lowered us onto the slim line of pebbled beach, and then carried me into the shallows, where a row boat was waiting, bobbing among the rocks. Robyn put me gently in the little boat, and then pushed us out into deeper water, jumping in nimbly at the last second. With great speed, he brought us to a much larger ship, and I recognized it as a part of my father's fleet.
“Dear God,” I whispered. “You really are rescuing me.”
“Of course I am,” Robyn winked at me, and then helped me up a rope ladder.
On the deck of the ship, there were only three other men. Robyn's brothers, whom he quickly introduced to me. There was Hugin, with shining blonde hair falling to his shoulders, eyes as blue as the evening sky, and the pale skin of a man who loved the night. Then came Arnet, with deep brown hair like an oak tree, and eyes the color of its leaves. He had a thickly muscled body, though not as massive as Saunder's, and golden brown skin which clearly was no stranger to sunlight. Last, there was Barret, shyly shaking my hand. He was sort of in-between the other two. His hair, a color between blonde and brown. His eyes, in between green and blue. And his skin somewhere between pale and tan.
Within moments, we were setting sail, the men manning the ship with ease. I had no idea, at the time, that they were magically gifted. So I gaped at the talent it took for them to navigate such a large vessel by themselves. They sailed that ship as if they'd been born on the sea, and they worked together as if they had done so every day of their lives. It was mesmerizing to watch, and I found myself utterly fascinated by their movements.
We had been traveling over an hour, long enough for me to relax a little when a thunderous roar echoed around us.
“The dragon!” Barret shouted and pointed behind us.
We all turned to see Saunder, in his dragon form, flying across the water towards us with the speed of Satan himself. My heart plummeted. Freedom had been so close. I should have known better than to hope. Hope is the true fairy tale, and it's not for the likes of me. No, princesses don't get to hope. So I stood alone, in the middle of the deck, and simply waited for my groom to come and claim me. Perhaps if I were submissive enough, he wouldn't kill these brave men. Yes, I knew that was a bitter lie. The brothers were as good as dead.
Except they weren't.
Arnet pulled out a shiny rifle and braced it on the wooden railing. He crouched, taking his time to aim at Saunder, and waited till the dragon was nearly upon us to fire. Arnet finally pulled the trigger, just once, but he hit Saunder square in the left eye. I saw it clearly when Saunder fell, his head hitting the deck right beside me, with a loud crack. I had a moment to stare into that gaping, bloody hole where his eye should have been, before the weight of Saunder's body pulled him down into the sea, his long neck slipping gracefully over the railing as the hiss of scales upon wood filled the air.
