Page 52 of The Rose in the Shadows

The Promissan King nodded, a glint in his eyes. “We have been quite fortunate with heirs, six strong, healthy young dragons. I’m sure you would get along well with one of my sons.”

His wife smiled widely and began clapping her hands as if this was the first time she had considered the idea. Which it clearly wasn’t. It clearly wasn’t the first time either of them had considered a potential match between one of their sons and the last Descendant of Hyrax.

“Oh, yes!” she exclaimed. “What a wonderful alliance between our two nations that would be. And, of course, you would have multiple heirs, children to sit on the Councils of both their parents’ home nations.”

The Dragon shifted, returning his arm to its raised position and waiting for me to retake hold of it. For once, I did not hesitate. You wouldn’t have to ask me twice to leave a conversation about my unwanted arranged marriage and uterine politicization.

The Dragon bowed his head to each of them politely. “That is something to consider. But, of course, Lady Moore has many young suiters at her disposal, so we will need to be quite thoughtful with her future match.”

“Of course,” the Promissan King agreed under his breath as we left.

I breathed a sigh of relief once he had put a safe distance between the Promissans and us. There really was no way I would get out of this marriage thing, I realized painfully. I might be able to delay it until after I ascended to the Council, but to what end? I would only delay the inevitable. The Dragon would eventually find a match that made sense politically andgenetically. And then, it was only a matter of time before I was posted up in some bed like nothing more than a breeding cow.

Isn’t that what you did with an endangered species, anyway?

The Dragon kept me on his arm for hours, parading me through the room and introducing me to each senator, Duke, and King. I smiled and sang Athenia’s praises as I needed to, but mostly I watched the giant wooden clock by the door as its ticking arm taunted me wherever I went. Eventually, the room began to clear out. The real power players stayed, continuing to prattle on about trades or marriages. They seemed locked in a competition with one another and the first person to leave lost the game. Some of the Lords and Ladies, though, those who had only come to enjoy the festivities, had drunk their fill of the evening and started filtering through the doors out of the ballroom.

“Clayton!” The Dragon boomed, looking away from his thrilling chat on the fertility of Athenia’s wheat fields. He had long since introduced me to everyone worth knowing, but still kept me trapped on his arm. I’d spend most of the evening debating if his need to keep me close tonight had more to do with wanting the room to see a pretty young girl on his arm or with some perverse pleasure in knowing that I was unhappy. Probably both.

“Father,” Clay greeted him, bowing low as he came to my side. “I was wondering if you might excuse Lady Moore for a dance.”

The Dragon’s eyes flickered gold, betraying that he did, in fact, mind. He placed a hand on my back possessively once more and I fought the urge to lean away from him towards Clay.

“I don’t believe Lady Moore has learned the court dances,” he replied, his voice upbeat and joyful but his eyes shining golden.

“Actually, your Majesty,” I coughed, taking any excuse possible to step out of his grip. “I’ve taken quite a few lessons, and I think you’ll find I’m a rather talented student.”

“Well, why not let the princess show us?” cried one of my apparent suitors across the way. He was a grotesquely tall man with a balding head and a wart the size of my thumb on his chin. It would be just like the Dragon to choose him as a match one day.

Clay extended a hand, and I accepted it gratefully, not bothering to hide my urgent desire to flee. He pulled me away from his father until we stood in the center of the room. Wordlessly, he placed a hand delicately between my shoulder blades and tugged until I pressed my body against his. His cinnamon scent enveloped me. I looked up to his eyes, nearly a foot above my own, and felt my stomach somersault as I recognized the heat in them.

And then we danced. I followed his lead perfectly, albeit with a few glances toward my feet, to be sure I was doing the right thing.

“You’ve been practicing,” he noted, with a poorly hidden smile.

“Told you,” I quipped.

He narrowed his eyes at me, but the expression was oddly playful. “I think the words you’re searching for are ‘Thank you, my grace; I’ve been so terribly miserable all night that I forgot how to hide my frown until you came to save me.’”

I scoffed, as if I would ever admit to that. Even if I was terribly grateful to him for pulling me away.

“If you wanted your ego stroked, you should have pulled me away an hour ago. I’m all out of fake compliments.”

He raised an eyebrow at me. “There are plenty of genuine ones you could give me. I’m dutiful, gallant, handsome…”

“Arrogant, controlling, aggressive.” I interrupted.

Gold specks filled his eyes. At first, I hardly noticed them. I was so used to momentary flashes of his magic. It was typically here and then immediately gone, as he kept his emotionsperfectly controlled. Tonight, though, he let that golden light spread until I looked fully into a dragon’s eyes.

“I’m your Prince, Thea,” he reminded me, voice suddenly serious and thick with a warning.

I wasn’t sure what the final straw was that allowed me to speak freely to him at that moment. Perhaps it was the exhaustion from playing politics all night or the remnants of anger from our fight after the attack. Maybe it was the fact that, much to my own frustration, the feeling of his fingers against my back was terribly distracting. Either way, I met his eyes without fear.

“You’re just a man, Clay. No more, no less.”

He opened his mouth as if to spit back some fiery response, but at that moment, my two left feet got the better of me, and I stumbled backward, bumping into the older woman who danced gracefully with her partner behind me.

“Watch what you’re doing!” She criticized, turning towards us. Her dark eyes scanned hungrily over Clay, and a sly smile spread across her lips. “Excuse me, your grace. I didn’t realize you were providing a dance lesson.”

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