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The Dragon's Princess

“Princess?” She snapped out of her thoughts, and looked over at Ragnar. His lips were curled into a smile, eyes crinkling from it, “What fascinates you so much, Your Highness?”
Would it truly hurt to be honest? Inez twisted herself around a bit, before resting her hands on his shoulder. “You.” 



Inez, Princess of Cyris, knows that her fate is to be married for the benefit of her family and country, but she cannot help but desire another path. Ragnar Eirsson, Chieftain of the Silver Highlands, struggles to bring his people out of the dark shadow cast by the actions of his ancestors, the powerful and feared dragon shifters, who ruled the skies with an iron and bloody fist. When events beyond mortal control bring them together, neither than deny the bond that springs up beyond one another...but duty always lurks.


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Chapter 1

It was the perfect day to read.

The melodious tinkling of chimes filled the tiny alcove, and the scent of sea salt and spices were carried by the generous trade winds up to the gallery in which the alcove sat. The sole inhabitant of the space sat on a chaise made of rattan wood and cotton, a pile of books stacked nearby, each showing signs of being thumbed through hundreds of times with frayed pages, loose binding, and the occasional stain of food or wine.

The woman reading was so consumed in her latest book, A Tale of Valiant Heroines and Magic, that she failed to notice that another person had entered the space. The only ambience she registered was the occasional turn of the weathered page, the musical sound of the chimes, and the faint strain of the hustle and bustle that rose from the courtyard, where servants hurried to and fro, carrying out their duties. The figure walked towards the alcove, stopping only when their shadow fell across the occupant of the chaise:

“Inez!” The reading woman’s concentration was broken, her eyes snapping up towards the smiling intruder.

“Beatrix.” Inez frowned; just when she’d been barreling towards the climax of the tale too. She’d been reading this particular book since the night before, stopping only to rest and freshen up. “I thought you were visiting that instrument maker?” It absolutely looked as though Beatrix was preparing to leave the palace; over her colorfully patterned dress, she wore a gauzy shawl and her hair was cornrowed with little beads and golden clips.

“I was, but I realized how boring it would be to go alone.” Beatrix grabbed Inez’s hand, tugging her insistently, “Come with me! It’s been nearly a week since you left the palace. You’ve had your nose in a book since our last trip to the bazaar.” Casting a dark eye on the pile of books near the chaise, she shook her head, “I think you’ve read all of those books at least ten times. Each.”

“Perhaps, if you read more, you wouldn’t be in so much trouble all the time,” Inez told her sister sardonically, giving her a playful little grin to let her know that her jab was only in jest. Beatrix pouted regardless, and Inez couldn’t resist marveling at the fact that this princess was six and ten years, nearly a woman grown, and yet she acted like a child at times. I suppose that is a result of being raised in such a sheltered manner. By that logic, Inez thought, perhaps she was just as sheltered. Snapping her book shut, she sat up from her reclined position, stood, and adjusted the neckline of her linen dress, “I will get ready, and we will go.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll go and let Sybella know that you said yes!”

“Remind her to wear her veil. It’s bright out today!” Inez watched Beatrix hurry off, shaking her head fondly before making her way to the window, where she gently brushed aside the sheer curtains that blocked the intense sun from the cool interior. The young woman who gazed out upon the verdant courtyard was considered the ‘Jewel of Elemis’.

Inez possessed skin the color of rich earth. Dark, curly hair was pulled into long cornrows that rested on her shoulders and back. Her dress was carefully woven red and gold fabric, emphasizing her full hips, comely waist, and shapely bust. Her eyes were unusual; the left was a deep, dark brown, while the right was a bright emerald, the eyes that had been unseen in her family for years.

She decided that her books could remain here while she was gone, and she returned to her chambers where her handmaidens were tidying up and turning the bed. They curtsied as she entered, and Inez announced, “My sisters and I will be going to the bazaar. Anà, help me get dressed.”

“At once, Your Highness.” As Anà hurried off to fetch her corset from the boudoir, Inez pulled several pins and hair ornaments out of a nearby lacquered box. If she was going to indulge Beatrix’s whims, then she was going to ensure they looked every inch the princesses that they were. Anà, quick with her fingers and tidy, helped Inez into a dark burgundy dress whose sleeves cut off by the elbow. She pinned her abundant braids into a bun at the nape of her neck—her mistress was well past the age where wearing her long, curly hair out was acceptable. Even braids worn down in public were frowned upon.

When she went to check on her sisters, she found them appropriately dressed. Beatrix had changed out her shawl for a proper overcoat with no sleeves. Sybella, just thirteen springs, wore her hair in a large puff at the nape of her neck and a light blue dress with flowing sleeves. Her face was obscured by a veil that was thin enough that her face could vaguely be seen but thick enough that the light would not bother her. As the servants bustled about, some preparing to accompany their mistresses, Inez reminded them,

“We need to be back by dinner. Father will have a fit if we are found to be on the streets at a late hour.”

“We will, we will!” Beatrix nodded. Sybella followed her lead, and they both looked at their sister. Inez just sighed and gestured for her sisters to go out to the waiting carriage, several soldiers in finely polished silver armor waited for them.

Inez’s only wish was that her sisters had given her more forewarning. Even the simplest outing required preparation.

They were the princesses of Cyris, a kingdom that hugged the coast of their continent, Edan. Cyris possessed verdant forests and fertile fields. Its capital, Elemis, sat on the eastern tip of the country, a sparkling jewel of a city that looked like paradise upon a sea of perfect blue. Their father, Afonso, had sat on the throne for seven and twenty years, and when he passed away, Ferdinand, Inez’s elder and only brother, would ascend to the throne. As the carriage rolled over the cobbled streets, away from the secure gardens and high walls of Sella Palace, Inez suppressed a sigh. She, as the Princess Royal, was often reminded that she was fortunate that her father did not see her as a bargaining chip or a breeding mare and had held off on arranging her marriage.

“You are already two and twenty, Inez.” She could hear her stepmother say, peering at her from over a goblet of wine, “You should have already been properly betrothed.”

It sometimes depressed her knowing that many viewed this as the only value she had. Never mind her thorough education or keen mind—no, others were consumed by how pretty she was and if she could bear sons.

“Oh, look at the contortionist!” Beatrix had swept aside the curtain and was eagerly staring out at a troupe of street performers, accompanied by a bard who was loudly spinning a tale of dragons and past kings. Sybella squeezed herself next to Beatrix, giggling at the amusing spectacle. Inez smiled, the performance was indeed eye-catching.

The carriage finally rolled to a stop in the center of Gemstone Plaza. Beatrix wasted no time in getting out, immediately hurrying over to a stall that carried fabrics from the distant island of Rosnola. Sybella, meanwhile, took her time as did Inez who followed after the more excitable of the sisters.

The merchant, a plump but jovial man with russet skin and abundant raven hair pulled into braids, immediately recognized his customers and bowed with a flourish.

“It is an honor, Your Highnesses! Please, feel free to peruse my many wares! You’ll find that I only import the finest Rosnolan textiles!” Beatrix, who loved foreign lands and cultures, eagerly asked,

“How do they get such delicate patterning on these? I understand the Rosnolans don’t embroider.”

“Not the way the ladies do here in Cyris.” The man beckoned her close and whispered, “Even I do not know how it is done. It is a secret kept amongst the women of very select families. I’ve heard rumors that they use old magic to accomplish the vibrant colors.” Beatrix was dazzled while Sybella ran her fingers over the available wares, oohing and aahing at how soft everything was. Inez found some of the patterns quaint but attractive; perhaps a dress could be made from it.

They settled on enough fabric to make a court dress for Beatrix when the man insisted they take it for half its worth, Inez gently reminded him that many merchants and weavers had worked hard to get it here and gave him several extra coins. He bowed many times and wished them well.

As they moved through the bazaar, the girls were greeted by a great many people; through the ups and downs of his reign, Afonso and his family, the House of Ferro, had remained well-loved. It was as Sybella hurried over to the stall of a perfumer that Beatrix tartly said, “In regards to what you said earlier, I’ll have you know that I have been reading, sister.”

“Oh?” Inez looked over at her, tossing a coin into the hat of a lute player who bowed towards her with a dramatic flourish, “What exactly?”

“The Rose Garden.” Inez rolled her eyes, of course, Beatrix would choose something like that to read.

She scoffed, pausing to look at a massive cage filled with exotic, “That book was banned.”

“Then why was it in Argent Palace’s library?” A smug look came over Beatrix’s face, and she went on, “Did you know it has illustrations?” Inez was well aware; she too had smuggled the book out when she was Beatrix’s age, only daring to read it when she was utterly alone. Should anyone, maid or lord, come upon her reading it, questions, which Inez had no desire to answer, would be raised.

“Really?” Inez raised her brows, “And tell me, Beatrix, have you learned anything valuable from The Rose Garden? Hmm?”

“I’ve learned that even the most knightly of men have one reason and one reason alone for completing quests for pretty ladies.” Beatrix made a crass gesture. Inez scoffed and rolled her eyes, “I also learned that all witches are old and stooped. Which is a lie, of course. Shera is a witch, and she’s quite lovely.”

“That is Her Majesty to you, Beatrix.” The younger girl made a face, but Inez went on, “She may have raised us, but Shera is Queen, Beatrix. When we are in public, you refer to her in the proper terms or not at all.”

“I always call her Shera. Sybella calls her Mother.”

“Sybella was still a babe in her wet-nurse’s arms when Father married Shera.” Inez stopped at a book dealer; she recognized an out-of-print edition of a novel she wanted. “The Queen is the only mother she has ever known.”

“Hmph.” Beatrix sighed deeply, “If you say so.” The second princess soon lost interest in the conversation and hurried over to where mages were performing a light show. Inez sighed and shook her head. She’ll understand, someday.

Perhaps, it was the mentality of a caged bird, but Inez saw it as her duty to be the poised one. The princess to whom her sisters could look up to. But sometimes she wondered… what if she didn’t have these duties hanging over her head? Marriage, dignity, the good of the nation. She was not so naïve to say that she would rather live another life, but… the curiosity was always there.

“Your Highness.” Inez snapped out of it and turned to look at one of the knights sworn to guard her, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I simply got lost in my thoughts. Don’t worry about me.” He thumped his fist against his chest and turned back to observe the bazaar. As she paid for the book, Inez put away thoughts of the road not traveled and ventured on.

(…)

Footsteps echoed against the stone floors as a sole figure hurried down the corridor. The setting sun cast shadows like flames on the high pillars of the corridor. A thin blanket of snow was covering the banisters, causing it to glisten with shades of pink, orange and gold.

Heavy oaken doors that reached from floor to soaring ceiling were pushed open as the figure entered the room.

He was a colossal specimen of a man with long, raven hair swept away from his forehead. Although chiseled, his face was slender, but he possessed a strong jawline, and a jagged scar trailed from his ear to the corner of his mouth. Eyes as blue as a glacier swept across the assembled group of men and women. His gaze was further emphasized by tattoos of a pitch-colored ink that ran down and over his eyes, stopping just under his cheekbones.

He was imposing, in his leather and abundant furs, his gloves reinforced with iron gilding. His cape was trailing behind him, he strode to the head of the room, sitting heavily on the throne at its head, carved into the very wall and floor of the hall. A colorful banner was hanging behind his seat.

Ragnar Eirsson was both anticipating and dreading the coming meeting. His ambassador to Sanao, a powerful kingdom ruled by tiger shifters, had returned and was giving his report.

    “My Lord.” The man on the throne signaled for him to continue, “I was sent to Sanao as your humble emissary for two months as you know.”

“And?”

“The Prince of Sanao agreed to make trades with us. He was quite impressed with our crafts and metalworks.” Ragnar’s brows raised, that was better than what he had hoped for. A soft murmur swept throughout the room.

His hopes were quickly dampened as the emissary continued. His optimistic expression was sliding off his face, “However, his court was quite resistant to the idea. Although we managed to smooth things over by the time that it was time for me to return here, I fear that our merchants will face some issues.”

Ragnar sighed deeply. As I expected. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, sliding his hand over his face. How did I expect this to be easy? Sheer naiveite, on my part. That’s my enduring optimism for you, I suppose.





****END OF SAMPLE*** 
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