Page 97 of A Witch and Her Dragon
SNOW FALLS LAZILY FROM THE white-gray sky, the flakes fat and silent as they drift to blanket the crinkly brown grass in the castle courtyard. I stand atop the steps, collar turned up against the chill breeze, my gaze trained on the winding road leading from the castle courtyard and through the barbican, upon which knights in full regalia stand, monitoring the movement below.
The grounds have been bustling all day, mostly with merchants coming in from Wysteria to serve their food and drink at tonight’s Yule ball. Layla Waverly, Poppy’s mother and the owner of the Wandering Cup, arrived just an hour ago, her tiny cart weighed down with pastries and scones and buns in every flavor imaginable. And Ialmostconvinced her to part with one before the pages and squires rushed out to help her carry everything into the castle, where I’m certain they’re now setting up in the ballroom. If only I’d had another thirty seconds, I would’vebeen successful. My mouth waters at the very thought of a chocolate-strawberry croissant.
I nod to three fellow knights as they pass by. Their gazes linger on me, heavy with curiosity, their conversation halting as they march past the stairs, patrolling the grounds.
Ever since I landed in the courtyard and Alina took my hand in hers, proudly displaying her claiming mark to the world, nothing has been the same.
But I wouldn’t change one moment of it. Not for anything.
The others can stare and whisper all they want. In the end, I got my mate.
My princess.
My future queen.
There’s movement in the distance, a wagon trundling beneath the barbican and into the snow-frosted courtyard. And with my sharp vision, I can tell immediately that my mother and sisters are the bundled-up forms sitting in the back.
Excitement tap-dances through my stomach, and I can’t stop the smile that spreads across my lips as I descend the snowy steps to wait for them.
“Raelan!” Gilda yells, standing in the wagon and then having to whirl her arms to find her balance as it jostles beneath her. Clarice grabs hold of her cloak and tugs her down. But that doesn’t dim Gilda’s smile. “Raelan, hi!” she calls again.
My smile grows as the wagon pulls to a creaking stop at the base of the stairs.
Gilda and Clarice scramble down first, and they crush me in their small arms.
“I can’t believe it!” Gilda says, pulling away from me to stare up at the castle with wide brown eyes. “You actually get tolivehere now?”
My first instinct is to reach down and muss her hair, but it’s done up so nicely for the ball that I opt to stay my hand. “Well, no. When not at the academy, I still live in the barracks, with the rest of the guard. But...” I turn my gaze up to the castle, with its soaring towers and billowing flags. “I get to spend more time here than most.”
“Andyou get to attend the ball!” Gilda says. She holds her hands to her mouth and shuffles her boots in the snow like she wants to explode with excitement. “And now we do too!”
Clarice rolls her eyes, but it’s in good nature. “Don’t get us kicked out, Gild. Act like we belong here.”
“We do belong here.” Gilda sounds certain. “Our brother is going to be the prince.” She gasps, eyes sparkling. “Will that makeusprincesses?”
My stomach pinches.
If that happens, it’s a long way off. Hopefully I’ll have some time to come to terms with what that mightactuallymean for me.
Before claiming Alina, all I could think about was having her—I didn’t even consider what might happenafterthe claiming, what it might mean to be bonded to the princess of our kingdom. I would’ve wanted her regardless of her station.
My dragon’s urges did a pretty great job of clouding my mind. Thankfully, it’s receded into peaceful contentment now.
Mama reaches into her cloak to pull out an eldertoken for the driver, but I swiftly step forward and press a coin into his palm.
“Thank you, sir. Yuletide blessings.”
He tips his cap to me.
Mama looks like she wants to argue—she’s got her pride, after all—but I soften her with a smile while reaching up to help her down from the wagon. Her hand slips into mine, and I grasp her fingers as she climbs down. As soon as her boots hit the snow, she tips her head back, regarding the soaring towers and turrets of Ravenscroft Castle with something like awe in her eyes.
Her long dark hair is pulled half up, and it falls around her face and shoulders like an inky shroud against the soft white snow. She’s even wearing a necklace and earrings—something I haven’t seen her do since the day I was sworn in as a knight, kneeling in the throne room at King Jorvick’s feet.
“You look beautiful, Mama,” I say softly, my breath puffing out around my mouth in a gray cloud.
She flicks her gaze to me, lips curling into a pleasant smile. Then her focus goes to my neck, and she reaches up to pull my collar aside, her fingertips finding the scars that wrap around my throat.
“Your chain...?” A mixture of curiosity and concern dances across her face.
