Page 43 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince
Unbidden, tears reach my eyes.
It’s been a day from hell. A day of treacherous transformations and loss. The future seems like an impossible sight.
Yet now, I soar.
Communication
Reina
Arms wrapped around one another, we return to the cavern, finding the soup hot and ready. If I were still human, it would burn my tongue, but I’m no longer limited by such things. We portion our bowls, taking sustenance for our spent bodies, our lingering gazes caressing the other’s skin.
We have no reason to dress, so we remain exposed. It gives me time to study him, and I know he’s examining me. It’s peaceful, learning one another in another way, seasoning our meal with intimacy.
We eat in silence, but there’s so much I want to ask. I’ve told him about my family, about my life before. We’ve shared sex like I’ve never known, but there is still much I don’t know about him.
“You’re not much of a talker, are you?” I ask. “Especially with your experiences, your ideas.”
He shrugs. “There are few who want to listen.”
“Why not? Is it because you were the last one born before the curse?”
“That is part of it.”
“What’s the rest?”
His hand tightens upon his spoon, becoming a fist.
“What happened to Alinae, the second Blessed One?” I press.
Drakon glances to the entrance. He stirs his soup, fiddling with his food.
I let him distract himself. I’m patient because I trust that when he finds the words, he won’t lie.
“She arrived, much like you, shipwrecked upon our beach,” he eventually begins. “We were a different clan then, and we eagerly welcomed her—my father most of all.”
“Your father? What was he like?”
“Arrogant, haughty, like my grandfather before him. And after the throne absorbed my grandfather, my father proclaimed himself our new king, without ever passing the throne’s rite.
“He called me his prince, claiming we had to protect our future, at any cost—and Alinae was the opportunity he needed.
“After her transformation, she stayed with us for months, deliberating whether she would attempt the throne’s rite. It was during that time that she and Scorpia fell in love, and my father decided she shouldn’t have a choice.”
I swallow, nodding along, nonreactive though I’m nervous, unsure of where this story is headed. I’ve heard Scorpia’s warnings, seen her scars.
“One night, over dinner, at the end of the third month, Alinae announced she intended to delay another month. Her words… they drove my father to the dragon’s rush.”
Whispering, I ask, “What exactly is the dragon’s rush?”
It’s a difficult question, and he’s silent for several minutes, gripping his spoon so tightly that it breaks in two. He frowns, staring at the pieces.
His eventual answer is hesitant, the words broken, spoken from far away. “The dragon’s rush is a condition of my bloodline. A berserker’s rage, set off when we become angry.”
“It’s why you didn’t want to fight Scorpia, isn’t it? And the day you chased me on the beach, your eyes rimmed with red instead of gold. That’s the rush, right?”
“Yes.” He breathes the word slowly through a clenched jaw. Talking about it has put him on edge.
I wait several breaths before asking, “What happened to Alinae?”
