Elara's POV
I spend the morning cleaning up broken glass and lying to everyone who asks about my shattered window.
Storm last night, I tell Cook. Wind must've blown something through it.
She doesn't question it. Why would she? I'm nobody.
But my hands won't stop shaking as I sweep. The Dragon King was in my room. He spoke to me. He told me not to volunteer.
Don't volunteer. You don't have to die for people who threw you away.
Why would he do that? What does he want from me?
By noon, word spreads that the council is meeting again. Final decision time. I'm supposed to serve them, like always.
I almost refuse. Almost hide in my room and let them decide without me there.
But then I remember his silver eyes, and the way he said my name like it mattered.
Your choice, he'd said.
So I go.
The meeting room is packed this time. Not just council members half the village showed up. They crowd around the doorway, pressed against the walls, all desperate to hear who they're sending to die.
I pour wine with steady hands. Nobody notices me yet.
We need to be fair about this, Magistrate Kern is saying. A lottery. Every eligible woman's name goes in, and we draw
That's not fair to the families, Mayor Frost interrupts. Some of these girls have parents, siblings who depend on them
So do others, Captain Aldric argues. How do you measure whose life matters more?
The room erupts in argument. Everyone shouting over each other. I keep pouring wine, invisible as always.
Then Theron stands up.
The room quiets. Everyone listens when the mayor's son speaks.
What about Elara?
Three words. That's all it takes.
Every single person in that room turns to stare at me.
The wine bottle slips in my grip. I catch it just before it falls.
She has nothing left here anyway, Theron continues, and his voice is so reasonable it makes me want to scream. No family, no prospects, no future. At least this way, she could do something meaningful with her life.
That's cruel, someone whispers.
But nobody argues with him.
I stand there, frozen, as they all examine me like I'm livestock at market. Judging. Calculating. Measuring my worth.
My father clears his throat. Theron makes a valid point.
Of course he does. My own father, agreeing that I'm worthless.
She's young and healthy, Trader Moss adds. And she's... well, she's already lost everything. It's not like we're taking anything from her.
They're talking about me like I'm not standing right here.
This is wrong, Marcus says from the back. He pushes through the crowd, his guard uniform wrinkled like he slept in it. You can't just decide her life is worth less than everyone else's.
We're not deciding that, Mayor Frost says carefully. We're simply suggesting that Elara might be the most logical choice
The most convenient choice, Marcus snaps. Because nobody will object. Because you already threw her away once.
That's enough, Marcus, my father says sharply.
No, it's not! My brother's face is red. She's your daughter! How can you sit there and
She stopped being my daughter when she embarrassed this family, Father says coldly. When she lost us our alliance with the mayor's family. When she proved herself useless.
The room goes silent.
I can't breathe. Can't think.
My own father. The man who used to call me his precious girl. Who taught me to read and bought me books and promised me the world.
He just called me useless. In front of everyone.
Elara? Mayor Frost's voice sounds far away. Would you like to speak? This decision affects you most of all.
I should tell them about last night. About the Dragon King appearing in my room. About how he told me not to volunteer.
But if I do, they'll think I'm crazy. Or worse they'll think I'm lying to get out of it.
And suddenly, I'm angry. Furious. These people who threw me away, who treat me like garbage, now want me to save them?
Elara? the mayor prompts again.
I set down the wine bottle carefully. Look around the room at all their expectant faces.
I'll do it, I hear myself say.
Marcus makes a strangled sound. Elara, no
I'll volunteer, I continue, my voice getting stronger. I'll go to the Dragon King's castle. I'll be his bride.
Relief floods every face in that room. Actual relief. They're happy I'm agreeing to die for them.
However, I add, and the relief falters. I have conditions.
Mayor Frost frowns. Conditions?
My brother Marcus gets my family's old house back. The one Father sold when the business failed. I look directly at my father. He gets everything that should've been mine. And you write it down legally. Today.
That's Father Sputters.
I'm saving your village, I cut him off. That's my price.
Anything else? Theron asks, and I can hear the mockery in his voice.
Yes. I turn to him. You never speak my name again. You don't get to remember me. You don't get to tell people about the girl you discarded who became a hero. I'm doing this for the children in this village. Not for you. Not for any of you.
The silence is thick enough to choke on.
Those are my terms, I finish. Agree, or find someone else.
Mayor Frost exchanges glances with the other council members. We agree. Marcus gets the house. Papers drawn up by tonight.
Then I'll leave tomorrow morning. I pick up the wine bottle again. Is there anything else, or can I go?
They dismiss me with grateful, guilty faces.
I walk out of that room with my head high, even though my legs are shaking.
Marcus catches up with me in the hallway. You don't have to do this.
Yes, I do.
Because of the house? Elara, I don't want it if it costs you
It's not about the house. I stop walking, turn to face him. It's about choosing. For three months, everyone's been making choices for me. What I do. Where I sleep. Whether I matter. Well, this time, I'm choosing.
You're choosing to die!
Maybe. I think about silver eyes and broken glass. Or maybe I'm choosing to live for the first time in months.
I leave him standing there and go to pack my things.
I don't own much anymore. Everything fits in a small cloth bag two dresses, a hairbrush, my mother's locket that I hid from Father before he could sell it.
I'm folding the second dress when something falls out of the pocket.
A piece of paper, folded small.
I don't remember putting it there.
My hands shake as I unfold it. The handwriting is sharp, angular, clearly written in a hurry:
The seven brides before you didn't die from the curse. They were murdered. Trust no one in the castle except Sylas. Come anyway. I'll explain everything. - K
K. Kaelen. The Dragon King.
I read it three times, my heart pounding harder each time.
Murdered. Not cursed. Murdered.
And he wants me to come anyway?
I flip the paper over. On the back, three more words:
I'll protect you.
A promise from the Dragon King himself.
I should show this to Marcus. To the council. Tell them everything.
But something stops me. Some instinct I didn't know I had.
If the brides were murdered, someone wanted them dead. Someone in that castle. And if I tell anyone here, word might spread. The murderer might find out I know.
I'm supposed to leave tomorrow morning.
Suddenly, tomorrow feels very far away.
I'm still holding the note when my door crashes open.
Isabelle stands there, her perfect hair wild, her yellow dress torn at the shoulder.
You have to run, she gasps, blood trickling from her lip. Right now, Elara. You have to run.
What? What happened to you?
Theron. She's crying now. I heard him talking to someone in his study. They're not going to let you reach the castle, Elara. They're going to kill you on the mountain path and blame it on bandits.
My blood turns to ice. Why?
Because if you survive the year, you'll come back powerful. You'll come back as the Dragon King's mate. And they can't risk you having that kind of influence. She grabs my shoulders. Please. Run. Hide. I'll help you, I swear, I'll
Footsteps thunder in the hallway.
She's in there! Theron's voice. Don't let her escape!
Isabelle shoves me toward the window. Go! Now!
I grab my bag, the note still clutched in my hand.
The door bursts open just as I climb onto the windowsill.
Theron stands there with two guards, his face twisted with rage.
Elara Ashenvale, he says formally. You're under arrest for conspiracy to endanger the village.
What? The accusation is so absurd I almost laugh.
You were seen speaking with the Dragon King last night. You're working with him. Helping him choose victims. He smiles, cold and sharp. The council has agreed. You're to be executed at dawn.
The guards move toward me.
I look at the window three stories up, nothing but hard ground below.
Look at Theron, advancing with rope to bind me.
Look at Isabelle, who's crying and mouthing I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
And I think about the Dragon King's note still warm in my hand.
I'll protect you.
I make my choice.
I jump.
The ground rushes up to meet me, and I have just enough time to think
This is either the bravest or stupidest thing I've ever done.
Then strong arms catch me mid-air, and the world becomes wings and wind and silver scales.
I've got you, a deep voice rumbles. Hold on.
The Dragon King carries me into the sky as shouts erupt below.
And I realize with a shock that feels like lightning
My real story is just beginning.