Page 20 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
“Yes,” she agrees, not quite missing my hesitancy. “They should be ready, and it is time you introduced yourself to the clan.”
Banquet
Drakon
I can’t take my eyes off her.
Her loveliness begins with her smile, a confidence she carries in her new body, an eagerness to wield her scales. I long to worship her. Hers is a beauty that spreads to every dimple on her body, displayed by the rosy-pink skirts that hit every curve, slits expanding up the length of her legs, showing her full thighs. Her sensuality was always there, even as a human, but now, she puts it on parade—she does not shy away.
Only it’s not her grandeur homing my gaze on her. No, it’s my fear.
Scorpia is acting suspicious. My aunt questions members of the clan, especially those who have sided with her before. They’re skeptical of how Reina was chosen—suggesting I’m at fault for not intervening when the Maledictum appeared. There are even rumors that I brought her the Maledictum myself.
The clan had agreed, decades ago, to delay this third and final attempt to break the curse. I would not violate such an agreement. Except I never imagined the Wisp would present the Maledictum upon the throne,compelling Reina to touch it without granting the clan time to deliberate. Wisp surprised all of us, and I’m the one under question.
I resolve to clear the air over dinner, encouraging Reina to share her version of events with Scorpia. The clan must put this matter behind us if we’re to allow Reina the chance to meet us and choose.
My heart stops—Reina glanced at me—and I forget about clan politics. I’m enamored, completely and utterly. The sight of her destroys me, and I have been unmade.
I should fear adoration like this. This power she has over me—Scorpia may turn it against me, echoing our history.
Reina
Drakon and I haven’t seen each other in hours, but it feels like ages. My skin tingles where he touched me, wishing to return to his embrace.
I try to keep my spine straight, to stretch my focus to the entire clan. I want to make my every step steady, but the way Drakon looks at me makes me want to writhe my hips, to pull him away and discover where that embrace might have gone.
The instinct shocks me. I’ve never felt this way.
Nor have I ever been clothed like this. Kaliyah dressed me in rosy-pink, and countless thin gossamer skirts swirl around my ankles with long slits that run up my thighs. I wear a tight bodice that hugs my chest, lifting and shaping my breasts, leaving the middle of my belly exposed.
The clan applauds as I enter the great hall, and the sensation is heady—it’s nice to sparkle. It’s how I imagine my brother and former husband might have felt upon returning home with a fruitful harvest from the sea.
I should fear adoration like this. Their fate depends on what I decide. There are clearly politics afoot, secrets I haven’t been told. The last Blessed One died—my life is at stake.
Yet, when I scan the crowd, most of them are smiling. There are a few—Scorpia nearest among them—that clap lamely, their faces taut.
Kaliyah leads me to a long table, offering me a seat at its head, and when the applause dies down, it is replaced by chatter. As I sit, there’s the shuffling of benches as the rest of the clan settles too. Thus, the banquet begins.
Kaliyah settles on the bench to my right, with Drakon on her other side. I’m reassured that they’re near, especially when Scorpia settles to my left. She nods to acknowledge me, but her scowl remains.
The clan fills seven of the long tables, all near the wall farthest from the throne. Several dragon fae emerge from small doorways, running hot dishes from the kitchen to the table. The joyful chatter continues, but nobody touches the food, not yet.
Soon platters cover the table, carrying scents of roasted meats and spiced vegetables. One platter is filled with fruit, and I lick my lips at the sight of an orange, bright and bold. It’s served with other fruits I don’t recognize with red and blue skins. Despite the strange food, my tummy rumbles.
“Strawberry and blueberry,” Scorpia says. “I don’t think many humans have them.”
There’s a mash made from a tuber that reminds me of a potato and an array of cooked vegetables I half recognize. Baskets of warm bread are distributed throughout the long table.
There’s a cooked fish I don’t recognize. “Whitescale fish,” Scorpia explains. “They favor the warmer waters around Wisp and rarely travel beyond the Nearbright Sea.”
Pitchers of drinks are brought forth. One is a fruit-infused water, and the other is a sort of wine. Scorpia provides me thenames for each of them, adding a warning that the second is alcoholic and that neither should be consumed before the toast.
For all Scorpia’s dark looks and grumbling, she’s helpful, and she must see surprise on my face, for she quirks her lips—the closest she’s come to a smile. “You’re not the first human to be confused by our food. I’ve… helped another before.” Her eyes squint, her gaze growing distant, bittersweet with memory.
I glance from her to Drakon, increasingly determined to learn what happened between them, only I’m too overwhelmed by the food to ask. The smells are inviting and strange, furthering my sense of home-that-isn’t-home.
Soon food covers the tables and most of the servers have taken their seats, joining us, yet nobody touches the food. Still, we’re waiting…
