Chapter 11: The Compromise
The official decree was written in dragon script and signed in blood. Freya watched as Queen Seraphine pressed her palm […]
The official decree was written in dragon script and signed in blood. Freya watched as Queen Seraphine pressed her palm […]
The war horns sounded at dawn. Freya woke to the distant, mournful wail echoing across the mountains—a sound that made
Freya woke to screaming. Her own screaming, to be specific, because there was a dead sheep on her balcony. A
Freya couldn’t stay in her chambers. She’d tried. Gods, she’d tried. Mira had helped her change into a nightgown, brought
Freya woke to sunlight streaming through windows she didn’t recognize and a moment of pure panic before memory caught up
Freya couldn’t sleep. She’d tried. Gods knew she’d tried. The bed was absurdly comfortable—some kind of enchanted mattress that adjusted
Freya lasted exactly two hours before the questions became unbearable. She’d bathed—an elaborate affair involving servants who materialized and disappeared
The flight felt like it lasted forever and no time at all. Freya’s fingers ached from gripping dragon scales, her
The dragon was shifting. Freya watched, frozen in terror and fascination, as the massive beast began to shimmer and change.
Two Weeks Earlier Prince Lysander of Drakemyr was bored out of his mind. The human diplomatic function was exactly as