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Page 47 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince

“I need a new family, a new clan.”

She laughs. “And you choseus?”The guards join in, chortling too. “This clan is so broken I raised insurrection.”

“I understand.”

“Drakon has filled your head with lies.”

Drakon must bristle, for I hear his snarl.

“He told me of Alinae,” I explain. “That he fought you in a rage while his father forced her upon the throne. Is there more I should know?”

“Then you understand you are risking your life forus.If you need a new family, look elsewhere. We’re broken.”

“Every community is broken, but yours is a brokenness that suits mine.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m barren, Scorpia,” I say, blinking out tears as I pronounce my greatest shame. “I can’t have children.”

Scorpia scoffs—my confession has no impact. “What of it? This clan is cursed not to have children.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, struggling to explain. “All my life, I’ve lived in a community that ostracized me because of this barrenness, calling me cursed. This is my chance to live with a clan that can understand this pain. This is an opportunity to bring life to your clan when I cannot create it myself.”

She swallows, staying tense.

“Scorpia, I’m here because Iwantto end your curse.”

My words echo, repeated by the surrounding dragon fae. Wings shifting, they seem intrigued by my promise.

Scorpia hears it too, and her face hardens.

Rushing, I continue with a whisper, “You said Alinae’s death must mean something. And if I could tell you the purpose of losing her, I would… But if you let me attempt this, I promise to never forget what she meant to you.”

My words hang in the air, feeling ineffective. There is no compensation for the past, and Scorpia’s pain is beyond my comprehension.

Scorpia frowns. She casts her gaze upon the surrounding dragon fae, their stirrings of hopefulness. Her jaw loosens ever so slightly.

“Fine,” she grits out, stepping aside, waving me toward the great hall.

“Thank you.”

She huffs. “Don’t thank me. You’re the one risking her life.”

Drakon stays close as I lead our way through the hallway and into the great hall. Stepping on the obsidian dais, I face the throne.

It seems bigger. More intimidating.

Everything is different now.

The throne glistens, gold glinting in greeting. The gash upon the throne is no longer an enigma but a warning. My gaze settles on the red rose Maledictum, still resting upon its seat, the thorns still tinged with my blood.

Wisp is waiting.

No longer stumbling with torn and bleeding feet, I approach Wisp’s throne with purpose, grounding into my resolve. I’m not doing this for Wisp, nor am I doing it for Drakon. Or Kaliyah. Or even the clan.

This risk, I’m taking it for me.

The clan is contained within this hall, Scorpia’s guards standing at the entrance. At first, they welcome me with disbelief and stirring, but soon there is the clamor of chatter and even a few cheers. Nevertheless, I see the cost of Scorpia’s control—they’re tired, worn down, with hooded eyes and bent spines.


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