POV: ELARA'S
I stared at the door, frozen.
Someone from the North was here. Now. Tonight.
"Princess?" My maid's voice shook. "Should I... should I send him away?"
"No." The word came out steady, even though my insides were screaming. "Tell him I'll be down in five minutes."
Her footsteps faded. I was alone with my breaking heart.
*Not a princess. Never a princess.*
I pressed my hands against my chest, trying to hold myself together. Twenty-three years of my life—a lie. Every birthday celebration, every royal lesson, every moment I tried so hard to be good enough for Isolde. All of it built on a swap. A trick. A cruel joke.
And now I had three months to seduce a dragon king or watch innocent people burn.
My birth parents. People I'd never met. People who probably didn't even know I existed.
Would they have loved me? Would they have been warm where Isolde was cold? Would they have hugged me when I cried instead of telling me princesses don't show weakness?
I'd never know. Because if I failed this mission, they'd die.
"Stop it," I whispered to myself. "Stop thinking. Just survive."
I changed quickly into a simpler dress. My hands trembled as I braided my hair. In the mirror, my green eyes looked too wide. Too scared. I pinched my cheeks for color and forced my face into a calm mask.
The princess mask. My only armor.
I walked downstairs on shaking legs.
The man waiting in the entrance hall made my breath catch.
He wasn't human.
Tall and lean, with silver-white hair that fell to his shoulders. His eyes were purple—actually purple, like twilight. His ears came to delicate points. Beautiful and terrifying at the same time.
Fae. This was a Fae warrior.
"Princess Elara." His voice was smooth, almost musical. He bowed, but his purple eyes studied me like I was a puzzle. "I am Theron Nightshade, Second to King Kael Draven. I've come to escort you North."
"Tonight?" My voice barely worked. "I thought... three months until the wedding—"
"The King wants you at Shadowpeak Citadel immediately." Theron's smile didn't reach his eyes. "To prepare. To learn our ways. To see if you'll survive."
The last part hung in the air like a threat.
"I see." I lifted my chin, pretending I wasn't dying inside. "How long do I have to prepare?"
"We leave at dawn. Pack light. You won't need your pretty southern dresses in the North." His gaze swept over me. "Silk and jewels won't keep you warm when dragons circle overhead."
Fear crawled up my spine. But I'd spent twenty-three years pretending. I could pretend a little longer.
"Then I should start packing. If you'll excuse me—"
"Wait." Theron stepped closer. Too close. I smelled winter and pine and something wild. "I can hear your heartbeat, Princess. It's racing like a rabbit's. You're terrified."
I met his purple eyes. "Wouldn't you be?"
"Most humans would be sobbing by now. Begging. Running." He tilted his head. "But you're standing here, chin up, playing the brave princess. Interesting."
"What do you want me to say?" Anger bubbled up through my fear. "That I'm scared? Fine. I'm terrified. Happy now?"
Something shifted in his expression. Respect, maybe. "Better. I prefer honesty to pretty lies." He stepped back. "Pack warm clothes. Sturdy boots. Weapons if you know how to use them. And Princess? Whatever you think you know about the North—forget it. Your human stories are wrong about us."
He vanished into the shadows before I could respond.
I stood alone in the entrance hall, my heart hammering.
*Weapons.* He'd said weapons like I might need to fight.
What kind of place was I going to?
---
I barely slept. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Isolde's cold face. Heard her cruel words.
*You're not mine. You're just a tool.*
By dawn, I'd packed two bags with my warmest dresses, my mother's—no, not my mother's—the Queen's old travel cloak, and a small knife I'd been given for cutting fruit at picnics. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was something.
I also packed the wooden horse my nursemaid had given me when I was five. The only gift I'd ever received that felt like love.
If I was going to die in the North, I wanted one real thing with me.
Theron waited by a black carriage. In daylight, he looked even less human. His skin had a faint shimmer, and his movements were too graceful. Too perfect.
"Ready, Princess?"
"No. But I'm coming anyway."
That almost-smile flickered again. "You might survive after all."
The carriage door opened. Inside sat another figure—a woman with midnight-black hair and eyes like amber fire. She wore dark leather and had a knife strapped to her thigh.
"This is Lyra," Theron said. "Court witch. She'll keep you company on the journey."
A witch. An actual witch.
Lyra looked me up and down. "You're smaller than I expected. And you smell wrong."
"Excuse me?"
"Most humans smell like fear and sweat and desperation. You smell like..." She leaned closer, sniffing. "Old magic. Very old. Hidden deep." Her eyes narrowed. "What are you hiding, little princess?"
"I'm not hiding anything." My voice came out too defensive.
Lyra smiled, showing teeth. "Liar."
The carriage lurched forward before I could respond. Through the window, I watched my home—the only home I'd ever known—disappear behind us.
Not my home. Never really mine.
Just another lie in a life built on lies.
"You know," Lyra said, studying me with those unsettling amber eyes, "the King's last human bride lasted three days before she ran screaming into the mountains. The dragons found her before we did." She paused. "They brought back her shoes."
My stomach turned. "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because I want to see if you'll run. Or if you're different." She leaned back, still watching me. "The King is desperate for his mate. The curse is killing us. If you're not her—if you're just another lying human—" Her smile turned cold. "Well. Let's just say the dragons are always hungry."
My hands clenched in my lap. Three months. I had three months to make a dragon king love a lie.
Or everyone I'd never known—and everyone I'd ever known—would burn.
The carriage rolled north toward darkness and dragons and a destiny I'd never asked for.
And somewhere in my chest, where my heart used to be, something whispered that Lyra was right.
I was hiding something.
I just didn't know what it was yet.
---
We traveled for hours. The landscape changed from green fields to dark forests to rocky mountains. The air grew colder with each mile.
Lyra watched me the whole time, like I was a spell she couldn't quite figure out.
"Tell me something," she said finally. "Do you want to marry the King?"
I almost laughed. Want? What I wanted didn't matter. It never had.
"I want to serve my kingdom," I said. The princess answer. The safe answer.
"That's not what I asked."
I met her amber eyes. "What I want doesn't matter. I'm doing what I must."
"Interesting." She tilted her head. "Most princesses would be thrilled. A dragon king. Ancient. Powerful. Deadly." Her smile was sharp. "But you're not thrilled. You're terrified and trying to hide it."
"Can you blame me?"
"No. I respect it, actually." She leaned forward. "Want some advice?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Don't try to lie in the North. We can smell lies. Hear heartbeats. See through pretty words." Her eyes glowed faintly. "Be afraid—that's honest. But don't be weak. The court will eat you alive if you're weak."
"I'm not weak," I said quietly.
"Good. Because if you are—" She smiled. "You'll be dead before your wedding day."
The carriage suddenly lurched to a stop.
Theron's voice came from outside, sharp with alarm. "Everyone out. Now."
My heart jumped into my throat. "What's wrong?"
Lyra was already moving, knife in hand. "We're being followed."
I stumbled out of the carriage into cold mountain air. The sun was setting, painting the sky blood-red. Around us, dark trees pressed close.
And in the shadows between the trees, I saw movement.
Eyes. Glowing yellow eyes.
Dozens of them.
"Wolves," Theron said, his hand on his sword. "Big ones. Unnatural ones."
Lyra's hands began to glow with purple light. "They're not wolves. They're shifters. Someone sent them to kill the princess before she reaches the North."
My blood turned to ice.
Someone wanted me dead. Before I even arrived.
But who? And why?
The eyes moved closer. Growls rumbled through the darkness.
And then, from somewhere above, I heard it—a sound that made my bones vibrate and my heart stop.
A roar.
Not a wolf's roar. Not human.
Dragon.
I looked up and saw wings blotting out the dying sun. Massive. Black as midnight. Eyes like molten gold.
The Dragon King had come.
And as he dove toward us, scales gleaming and fire building in his throat, one thought screamed through my terrified mind:
*He's going to see right through me. He's going to know I'm a lie.*
*And then I'm going to die.*