Cats aren’t terribly common at home, as my motherisn’t fond of them. Do cats generally just turn up on people’s beds? “Perhaps he’s only napping here?”
The girl looks doubtful. “I don’t think so.” She hesitates. “Maybe try petting him?”
I reach out a timid hand to stroke his head with two fingers. He leans into my touch.
“Now I’ll try,” she says, and when she does, the cat draws back to look at her in obvious distaste. She grins. “Well, that settles it. They’re like us, you know? Once they pick someone, that’s it.”
A second is needed to remember that by “us,” she means dragons and thatsheis a dragon. I sneak a glance at her. She looks as human as I do, of course. Everyone does, really, everyone but the wyverns.
And the king.
“Would you like me to have a bit of food and water brought for him?” she asks.
The cat rolls onto his back and stretches all four legs into the air before dropping off to sleep again.
“I suppose we better,” I say, staring down at him. I could certainly do with a friend. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome, Your Highness.” Curtsying again, she starts for the door.
“Oh,” I call after her, “What is your name?”
She turns and smiles, revealing a gap between her two front teeth, a distinct sign of blessing in Vasna. “Cora. It’s Cora, ma’am.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Cor—”
Like an ornery bull, a sturdy woman about my mother’s age comes barging through the servant’s door with a string of girls at her heels.
“You,” she says, leveling a finger at Cora. “What are you doing here? Shoo!” She flaps her hands at the girl. “Shoo, shoo!”
Cora scurries out, leaving me with this formidable creature and her troops. The woman introduces herself with, “I am Hiln,” and before I can say much of anything, I’m being stripped, scrubbed, and perfumed under Hiln’scommand. Strangely, she orders I be fed bites of fruit and cheese throughout all this as if there isn’t time for a proper dinner.
This woman I can certainly believe to be a dragon.
Night has come and the lamps lit by the time they’re done. The girls giggle amongst themselves as a long, silk gown lined in velvet ribbon is slipped over my head. I glance down, and my cheeks warm. The thing is nearly transparent.
“What is this?” I ask.
“Is nightgown,” Hiln snaps, and with another flapping of hands, she sends the girls out, driving them before her like a flock of chickens.
When they’re all gone, I sit on the bed and stare at the far wall.
My skin is raw, my hair perfumed with a scent that’s making my eyes sting, and I may as well be naked with how much this so-called nightgown covers.
I will not cry. I will not cry…
I clutch the bed’s edge as my resolve wavers.
All my life, I’ve prepared to potentially leave my home. For a brief period, I thought Luca, who I’ve known most my life, would offer for me, and Mother would deem a Sileshian nobleman a good enough match for a fourth daughter. But the offer never came, and the Dragon King’s did.
Do not cry, I command myself.If you start…
It will be impossible to stop.
I look about the room for something to latch onto. At some point during all the scrubbing and scouring, someone brought and left two bowls, but when I look, the catis nowhere to be found. I bite my lip as tears threaten to spill over.
Ultimately, it’s the rug that does it. When I rub my toes against the rug beside my bed, it’s silky smooth like the nightgown, not rough and worn like the jute one braided by my grandmother. A wave of homesickness crashes over me, and before I can stop myself, a sob breaks loose.
Curling onto my side, I cry. I cry over my foolishness, and my naïveté, and my cat friend who left. I cry because I’m still hungry, and I refuse to call anyone and have them see me like this. Most of all, I cry because I don’t want to marry the Dragon King, but I don’t want my people to starve.
