Chapter 1
My father once told me that fear was a living beast. It could loom overhead like a bear, the sight of it so piercing that you would be rooted to the spot, your insides turned to ice water; or it could wind itself around your body, squeezing until you gasped for a taste of air, your vision blurred and your ears ringing with the sound of your frantic heart.
Standing before my family’s ancestral mirror with my fingers teasing the sleek ebony locks that fell along my collarbone, I felt that fear like a black mist creeping over my shoulders. I tried not to shiver, attempting to hold my head high.
My maids crowded around me like bees to a flower, withdrawn and silent. Pinched faces, downturned lips and watery eyes, and their every touch against my body fleeting like my skin burned their fingers.
I caught sight of my eyes in the mirror, dark blue irises wavering with the intensity of my fear. I adverted my eyes lest anyone saw and turned my focus to the shaking hands of a maid as she scrubbed fragrant oils on my arms, the brown skin aglow as she swept the sponge in circular motions.
If I closed my eyes, perhaps I could imagine that this was nothing more than preparation for a grand feast.
Gentle fingers caressed my cheek. My eyes opened to see my mother standing at my shoulder, her fingers twisting my hair into the beginnings of the braid. The mere act drew tears to my eyes and I took a deep breath to hold them at bay.
Her face was drawn, lips pressed so tight that they were drained of colour. She looked old, much older than forty-one years. “Are you afraid, George?” she whispered, her voice cracking as she uttered the fond nickname that she’d blessed me with. Her stare never lingered long when I beheld her brown eyes in the mirror’s surface.
So much sadness.
I bit the inside of my cheek to stop fresh tears from forming. I couldn’t let her see my fear, my hesitation that my choice was not the right one. That I thought this nothing more than a hopeless ploy to save our village.
Lie. Three words fell from my quivering lips in a hoarse whisper. “I am fine, mama.”
Her hands hovered at my shoulders, afraid to touch. Her actions spoke louder than any words said in my chambers. There was true terror in her, that this might be her last chance to lay her hands on her only child.
Our eyes connected in the mirror, drawn to each other this time, and all was said through that single glance.
She swept out of the room with the maids in tow. As the door banged shut, the stifling silence descended from the ceiling and swallowed me. My heartbeat thundered in my chest.
My breath quickened, a cold hand constricting my lungs until I gasped for air. I collapsed into a chair, the room spinning around me. Shivers came and I gripped the plush arms of the settee to anchor myself from the faintness entering my vision.
Don’t think about it.
But how could I not? Outside my window, I spied the sand coloured tops of the taller buildings and the dusty haze shifting along in the air above. There was little imagination needed to know the state of the streets below and the citizens that dwelt forlornly in the shadows of buildings. The panic and grief in their hearts intermingled with the sliver of hope that, this time, someone sacrificed could actually save Silene.
Futile. I was the citizen’s final, desperate attempt. Yet what good could I do? I had trained with blades and bow since I was young but even armies were no match for this creature and its armored scales; no shaman could banish the creature from our lands. The Gods had abandoned us, left us to suffer alone, left us to wilt under the bargained control this beast had over us.
My stomach churned. Don’t think about it! I stood and wiped my hands on the purple dress, anything to stop the thoughts crowding in. My feet guided me into the groove I’d already worn into the floorboards from my constant padding. They took me to the far window as they usually did, inevitably drawn to the view. It was the edge of the city, the buildings shorter and unevenly spread apart. Farmland bordered the cobbled street until it became nothing more than a wide strip of dirt snaking away.
I followed that path with my eyes, unavoidably landing on the monolithic mountain in the distance. It jutted through the haze like a glittering knife of stone.
Akhdar.
Home of the dragon.
My soon to be final resting place.
My blood ran cold as I envisioned what the future held - the plaintive cries from my family and household servants, the silent procession through the city centre where my people would stand with baleful eyes at my passing. Then the awful trek up the mountain, to a place named Dragon’s Point, to be fastened to a pole so I couldn’t run, couldn’t escape the fate laid down at my feet!
I doubled over from the crushing weight on my chest, the emotions bubbling up and up. A wailing sob escaped my trembling lips and echoed in the room.
One way or another, the dragon would come and I would be devoured.
The faintness in my vision darkened, closing in. Not wanting to be caught, I stumbled around, searching for light in the gloom. My grip fastened on the mirror, gilded edges eliciting the pain to ground me. The darkness recoiled.
I don’t want to die!
What cruelty this world has. I want to live a long, happy life!
No! You know why you have to do this! If you do not, they will all burn!
You are the Princess, the heir to the throne. Is it not your duty to protect your people?
All I wanted was for my mother to hold me tight and murmur to me that everything would be alright, like I was a trembling child scared of the night.
I caught sight of myself in the mirror. Unshed tears glistened against the skin of my paling cheeks and my lips were downturned and trembly. But my eyes, they burned with a defiance I neither felt within nor anticipated to see.
The great bell tolled in the distance and I straightened, taking several shuddering breaths.
This was it.
I left my room behind without a second glance and without a single possession in hand. There would be no need for them anymore. A hand to the cool stone banister, I let my bare feet carry me silently down the spiraling staircase.
My parents waited at the bottom. King and Queen of Silene, standing tall and proud, dressed in their finery. But the closer I got, the less they resembled nobles.
My mother's eyes were red-rimmed and, as she took my shaking hands into her own, tears welled again. She looked frail, bent under the weight of the sacrifice to be made. My own resolve crumbled as I wiped away her stray tears.
My father was silent as he laid a gentle hand on my shoulder. He was my rock, my anchor in life, but to see the caving in of his shoulders and the silent crying broke my heart. I met his weary eyes, the same blue as mine, as he bent to place a gentle kiss on each cheek.
I couldn't hold the torrent of tears back anymore. They flowed freely down my cheeks, but I never uttered a sound. I was too afraid that if I opened my mouth, my wails and screams would not be stopped.
I gathered them in my arms instead, my body wracked with shuddering sobs I couldn't release, and hugged them as tight as possible. We stood this way for several minutes, neither of us wishing to let go, as if we thought being locked together could stop the flow of time and fate.
Unwillingly, I drew away first. I wanted to say something, anything, but my throat was too tight to utter a word. Hand in hand, we walked to the grand oak doors.
A procession of our servants lined the cobbled pathway to the main gate, ladies with heads bowed and men with their hats and scarves clutched in white hands. The air was filled with sobs, teary one worded goodbyes and trembling prayers. At the end stood a lone donkey, a worn side saddle fitted to its back.
A brazen spark of hope struck me, perhaps a final desperate burst of life. I spun back to my parents and kissed their foreheads.
"Don't worry, mama, papa," I croaked. "I will be back. I swear on the gods, old and new." Lies, lies and more lies. But I so badly wanted to believe it that I latched onto it as if it was the only thing to keep me sane.
I busied with settling into the saddle and angling the donkey to the city centre. No doubt all the citizens would be lining the main street now, as they did for all the other girls before me.
With a gentle tap from my heels, I urged the donkey away from home, away from my family. I dared not look back, for I would never be able to go forward and do my duty.
For my people, I will do this.
