Page 39 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
As is custom, my brother leads the ceremony. He names me as a sister and aunt—and as a former wife. At the mention of my former husband, his new wife shifts her hand protectively to her pregnant belly.
She never did like me, but I can’t blame her for that. I had wondered if our dynamic could shift after she gave birth, once she had evidence that she was the better wife. Then maybe she wouldn’t need to spite me.
It was easy for me to hate her too, because of what she symbolized, even if she wasn’t the true target of my ire. Unlike my father, she didn’t shove me into a husband’s arms when Istarted my cycle, telling me to be thankful someone would take me at all. Unlike my brother, she didn’t berate me for returning home a failure.
She’s simply the other woman I was taught to hate.
For the first time, she eyes me with curious uncertainty, and I think my gaze says the same.
Despite their mother’s chastising, my nieces crowd the ship’s edge, pointing and chattering to one another. Wide-eyed, they look upon me, finding beauty. The older one cocks her head, her mouth forming my name, and when the younger ones hear her, they agree, recognizing me in their childlike way.
This whole scene is strange, detached, seen from my dragon-shaped eyes.
Ignoring his children’s babble, my brother continues speaking, his words generic. There’s nothing of note about me, nothing unique he wants to say. Once he’s prattled for an acceptable time, he’ll pick up the wreath and throw it into the sea, saying good riddance, let the funeral rite be done.
To them, I’ve died, and these men no longer have power over me. It’s liberating. A freedom I refuse to surrender. Certainty settles within me, becoming stability—whatever happens next, I will not return from the dead.
I’m never going back.
My dragon cries as I grieve the family that never wanted me and the nieces who deserved more.
I’m not going back!The words raise my spirit. Lifting my neck, my dragon shrieks.My wings are flapping, my tail propelling me from the water.
I do not need to stay through my funeral. This rite is for their closure, not mine. Yet I hesitate for a time, looking back for a final moment, holding a position near the boat. Narrowing my gaze, hoping everyone will remember the day a dragon appeared at Reina’s funeral.
The girls climb on the ship’s edge, edging closer. In the chaos, my oldest niece seizes the thimbleweed wreath from her father and throws it into the sea. She exclaims, “Reina is beautiful and free!”
I preen under her praise, extending my long neck. Looking to the sky, I release a victorious breath of fire.
Free.
That’s me.
Longing
Reina
During my arduous flight home, the southern winds beat away my exuberance until all I have is raw determination.
With great relief, I cross the Rift, the isle’s magic returning along with calmer air. Tired and tattered, the fear of what lies ahead looms, like Wisp, upon the horizon.
My fire killed Drakon. My family has given me up for dead. I’m in no state to confront Scorpia or meet with the clan. I’m not even sure whether I want to attempt the throne’s rite. All I’m certain of is that if I don’t stay on Wisp, I want to secure transportation to somewhere else.
Humans can find ways to live on the Isles of Fae, right? They must, because I don’t think I can live in Valterra after this.
I resolve to give myself time.
It’s mid-afternoon by the time I reach the isle, soaring to Drakon’s cavern and finding it packed up, just as we left it. As I step into it, without his company, our nest feels cold, empty like a tomb.
Still, I square my shoulders and get to work. There are routines I’ve adopted during my days with Drakon, and I numbly rely on them now.
Scorpia said it was all my fault…I wish she had given me time to learn my dragon body, to understand my fire.
I make quick work, catching a waterfowl for my dinner, another stew. It’s bittersweet—every step of the process reminds me of Drakon, but I suck the marrow out of the memory. Memories are all I’ll have.
Memories of Drakon. Memories of Valterra.
My future is painfully bright, filled with thrones and fae.
