1
“You don’t have to do this,” my mother says as we survey the port for our first look at my future husband.
I grip the ship’s railing as I take in the crowd below. Even at sunset, the port we’re anchored in is livelier than any at home. “We’re already here.”
“A better offer could still come,” she says.
A sound just short of a laugh escapes my lips. “Mama…” Rarely do I call her this now, and never if servants are nearby. But for these final moments before we leave the ship, Queen Lirtha and I stand alone.
“I’m serious, Serah,” she says, eyes narrowed against the glare shining off the distant desert. “This was only your first offer.”
“There won’t be a better one.”
With surprising speed, she takes my face in her hands and turns it toward her. “For you, there is always better.”
I smile at her. “For the fourth daughter of Vasna?” The entire continent knows our tiny island country is on the verge of poverty.
My mother’s face remains stern. “For my daughter, yes.”
Slowly, she releases me, and I am able to release my smile. We both know there will be no other offer of marriagelike this. First daughters could hardly dream for what I’ve received.
The Dragon King, the most feared ruler on the continent, has offered to forgive all Vasna’s debt. Not just the debt we owe his home country of Tirenth butallour debt, and thanks to my predecessors, that amount is nearly inconceivable. The only price?
A bride of royal blood with the gift of water drawing, and out of my five sisters, I alone inherited the gift, making me the sole candidate.
Right now, the only water I feel is the ocean’s presence throbbing beneath me—deep and wild, cold and immense. I keep my mind focused elsewhere, for the ocean is a force never to be called upon.
Mother and I brace our legs as a wave rocks the ship. “If the stories about their kind are true…” she says.
“The stories are a lie,” I answer.
I say this with a confidence I don’t feel.
Dragons shed their beastly forms ages ago in favor of their secondary human bodies. They look no different than us, and they’re known to be ardent lovers of logic and art. But there are stories, stories that they are still beasts behind closed doors, in their homes…in their beds…
“Still,” Mother says, “you remember what I said. If he tries to harm you…”
I’m glad her attention is elsewhere so that I may roll my eyes as I repeat the words she's said so many times. “He has to sleep sometime.”
“That’s right. And when he does?”
My throat tightens, but I say the words she wants. “I will ensure he never wakes.”
“Good. I have paid our contact there well, from my personal coffers. If you are in danger, he will see you to safety.”
“I know.”
“He will offer you a yellow desert rose to make himself known. Do not forget.”
“How could I when you have reviewed me on this for the past two months?”
Her mouth quirks in amusement. “Then I suppose I don’t need to remind you to write Selena and me as often as you can.”
“You don’t.” I’m surprised my youngest sister has left us alone this long. She has clung to me like a little lemur for weeks now in anticipation of my leaving, as our other sisters are already married and gone. “As soon as I know it’s safe, perhaps she can come visit me.”
My mother is silent a moment, her eyes pinching ever so slightly as her gaze wanders. I know that faraway look. She’s thinking of my father.May the Creator keep his soul, my lips form soundlessly, though my heart is hardly in the sentiment.
He can rot for all I care.
