Page 33 of The Rose in the Shadows

“Yes, I’ve begun considering the prospects. There’s a Promissan Fire Elemental I’m currently discussing contracts with. He has some distant relation to a necromancer from House Hyrax. We’re currently investigating if he could be a suitable match.”

“Shouldn’t that be something I decide?” I asked softly before I could stop the words from escaping.

The Dragon cleared his throat aggressively, and Clay shifted his weight. His eyes bore into mine with a silent warning.

“I just mean…” I clarified. “I hardly feel ready for a marriage, and I’m not particularly interested in an arranged marriage.”

The Dragon took a deep, measured breath, as his eyes slowly began to glow. “You don’t have the luxury of choosing your marriage. Producing an heir with enough genetic ties to be predominantly descended from Hyrax might pose a challenge, considering you're the last. You’ll need to start the process of repopulating sooner rather than later.”

“Repopulating?” My stomach locked in a sudden and uncomfortable churn.

“Miss Moore,” Clay warned, his voice low and as steady as his father's.

This was… ridiculous. I had only been in this castle for a short time, only known the Dragon for a matter of weeks. How could anyone expect me to agree to him planning out the rest of my life without allowing me the freedom to make those decisions myself?

“The ultimate choice of husband is yours, of course,” Clay interjected, sensing my thoughts. “And there are no laws subjecting you to stay in the marriage if it turns abusive or otherwise harmful.”

Well then, at least I could be grateful for the fact my safety was prioritized higher than my womb!

Every fiber of my being pushed me to fight back against them. I wanted, more than anything, to push out my chair, refuse to agree to these terms, and storm out of the room. I wanted to remind them that, as a woman, I deserved to be treated as more than just common breeding stock.

But I was talking to a king.

And in my few short weeks at court, I’d already learned that declining the King simply would not be tolerated.

“You’re the head of a Council family,” the Dragon reminded me, his irritation becoming evident. “You have obligations to fulfill and customs to follow.”

I knew that, of course. My responsibilities to the Council and to the House of Hyrax had been a constant weight on me since I woke in the infirmary. Not a day had gone by without someone reminding me exactly what obligations I had to fulfill because of the Mark on my chest. And yet, all I could think about in that moment was how badly I didn’t want any of those responsibilities.

I didn’t want to be on his Council or stay in this palace for the rest of my life. I didn't want to read his pre-written speeches or give fake smiles at his parties. But above all that, I didn’t want to sign over control of what andwhoI did with my own body, simply because of a tattoo on my chest.

I hadn’t even been able to summon my powers!

If it wasn’t for that damned tattoo branding me as important, none of this would be happening.

The Dragon had made up his mind on this matter. That was clear from the set of his jaw and the firmness of his shoulders. Fighting back would only complicate my life at court further. But maybe, with more time, I could reason with him. Surely, there was a reasonable man hidden underneath the anger and dominance.

“Perhaps then,” I appealed. “Since I’m not a Council member yet, we can table any conversations on my marriage prospects until that fact changes.”

The Dragon stood suddenly, and the sound of his heavy chair against the floor released an angry screech. His fingers shifted into talons as his palms slammed down onto the table, and I hoped my face didn’t expose the rush of my fear.

I had gone too far.

The Dragon wasn’t a reasonable man.

I’d seen Clay begin to transform that day in the hospital, but watching the Dragon begin to take his beast form was something else entirely. The entire room seemed to shrink as his presence in it grew tenfold. Firm green scales climbed up his arms. His eyes darkened around fiery, golden iris’. The air tightened as a wave of heat rushed from him.

When he finally spoke again, his voice was low, laced with malice and a slight beastly growl.

“Do not mistake my invitation here for kindness, Theadora,” he warned. “You are in no place to question me or my decisions. Do not think that your little friends or strolls in the garden mean that your crimes are forgiven. Our shaky international relations and that Mark on your chest are theonlyreasons I didn’t end your life the second you walked intomykingdom.”

His words were a weight, pressing me into my seat with a reminder of the remarkable power he constantly held within him. The power that he would not hesitate to use against me the second I gave him a reason. My stomach railed against me as I silently watched as scales climbed up his arms until even the skin around his neck rippled and turned green.

I had once asked Iris about Clay’s transformation that day in the hospital. She told me that all Dragons of House Zion had aspects of their beast, but only the most powerful could fully transform and shed their human skin entirely. She hadn’t elaborated further, but I feared I was about to find out just how far the Dragon could change.

I was too consumed by the weight of the Dragon’s fury to even notice the scrape against the floor as Clay stood and came to my side, placing himself slightly between myself and the Dragon. It was only when I felt his fingers against my shoulder as he wrapped his hand around the back of my chair that I noticed his presence.

His position was no accident. He was prepared to throw me out of that chair and away from his father, if necessary.

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