The wind from their wings lashed around me, whipping my hair into a wild tangle that stung my face with every gust. The cold returned in full force, biting into my skin like an unwelcome predator. Below, the ground stretched as a dizzying expanse—a blurred canvas of muted colours and shadows far beneath us. The sheer drop was a dangerous reminder of the peril I faced, and the danger pulsed in time with every frantic beat of my heart.
Panic surged through me like a tidal wave, the primal instinct for survival taking over with relentless force. My breath quickened, shallow and sharp, each inhale an act of desperation as adrenaline coursed through my veins. My heart thundered in my chest, a relentless drumbeat of fear that grew louder with each passing second.
I clung to Riyal's shoulders with a grip so tight my fingers ached. My nails dug into the fabric of his uniform, pressing into the solid muscle beneath. I could feel his warmth through the material, but even that wasn't enough to chase away the bone-deep chill. When my grip tightened further, a sharp intake of breath from Riyal told me he wasn't immune to the pain of my desperation.
The thought of slipping from his grasp, of plummeting through the air with no wings to save me, clawed at my mind. It was a nightmare I couldn't shake, an all-consuming terror that made me cling to him even harder, my fear clear in every strained muscle of my body.
What if Riyal lost his grip? My mind whispered. What if a sudden gust of wind threw us off balance?
My thoughts spiralled deeper into the abyss of dread, and my frantic hold on Riyal tightened further, driven by the irrational but overwhelming belief that it might keep me safe. I felt like a cat avoiding a bath.
"You're insane if you think I'm going to let you pass me around hundreds of feet in the air, you fucking flying gecko bastard!" I screeched at Zaydon, my voice cutting sharply through the chaotic cacophony of wind.
Riyal flinched at my outburst, his muscles tensing beneath my grasp. Despite the venom in my tone and the panic that had overtaken me, his hold on me didn't falter. His arms remained firm and steady, as though his resolve to protect me outweighed the storm of emotions swirling between us.
A low, menacing growl rumbled through the air, its source unmistakable. Zaydon. The sound was primal, a guttural vibration that reverberated deep in my bones and sent a shiver coursing through me. It wasn't just a warning; it was a promise. Charged with a fury so potent, even the relentless rush of wind couldn't drown its weight.
Zaydon's crimson gaze burned brighter, sharp and unrelenting, a glaring manifestation of his unravelling patience. His presence was suffocating, a raw storm of unchecked emotion threatening to consume everything in its path. The power radiating off him felt almost tangible, a force I couldn't escape even if I tried. His fiery gaze seemed to demand my obedience, but in my fear-driven state, defiance surged through me instead, only fueling the silent battle between us.
And yet, without warning, something shifted. The fire in his eyes dimmed, his movements softening as though tethered by an unseen force. The rage that had burned so fiercely in him moments before began to ebb, replaced by something deeper. It wasn't submission but a flicker of restraint, an emotion that tempered the tempest threatening to consume him.
That fleeting moment passed across his features like a shadow, subtle yet impossible to ignore. Whatever it was—regret, determination, or something entirely unspoken—it steadied him, halting the storm of his fury. It was as though an internal battle had stilled if only for a moment, changing the course of what might have been an inevitable collision of wills.
Hovering nearby, his crimson gaze remained fierce, but there was a subtle shift in his demeanour. The rigid tension in his frame eased, the unyielding dominance giving way to a quieter, more deliberate intent. Despite this change, his presence remained commanding, a potent reminder of the storm he held in check.
Then, gently, with surprising care, Zaydon reached toward me, his hands brushing against my waist. His touch was unexpectedly tender, and the action was so at odds to the fury that had defined him moments before.
"Az, I will not do anything that would cause you harm. I promise you. So please, just trust me," he said, his voice low and soothing, a calm balm against the chaos of my fear.
The sincerity in his tone anchored me, cutting through the whirlwind of my panic. It was a lifeline, one I clung to despite the turmoil inside me. My grip on Riyal loosened, my body trembling as the fight drained from me. Slowly, hesitantly, I allowed myself to be shifted from Riyal's arms to Zaydon's.
The moment I was within his grasp, Zaydon moved with a commanding swiftness that left no room for hesitation. His arms wrapped around me in a decisive, protective motion, pulling me firmly against his chest. His embrace was unlike Riyal's gentler hold; it radiated an intensity that was equal parts protective as it was possessive. The warmth of his body seeped into mine, a vivid contradiction to the cold wind that had battered me moments before. There was no mistaking the unyielding resolve in his hold. It didn't feel like he was just carrying me; it felt like he was claiming me. I found some comfort in that notion and relaxed against him, my body surrendering to the comfort he provided, even as my mind raced with conflicting emotions.
Riyal, his expression a mix of relief and unease, retreated without a word. His wings beat furiously as he distanced himself from us, leaving Zaydon to carry me the rest of the way. I couldn't blame him. Zaydon's earlier rage was enough to make anyone flee, hell, even I wished I had my own wings to escape this emotional rollercoaster.
As Zaydon's wings carried us through the twilight sky, the warmth of his body continued to seep into me, a soothing balm against the chill that had threatened to consume me earlier. His temperature, higher than any human's, felt like a shield against the biting cold, wrapping me in a cocoon of heat.
Even so, I couldn't shake the confusion and irritation bubbling within me. Zaydon's behaviour—his possessiveness, his extremes—was a whirlwind I couldn't untangle. Was he jealous? Had he misunderstood what had happened with Riyal? Or was this just another layer of the complex, infuriating man who seemed determined to leave me emotionally breathless?
I sighed, exhaustion settling over me like a heavy cloak. The sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of deep purple and orange. The rhythmic beating of Zaydon's wings filled the silence, a steady sound that began to soothe my frayed nerves.
Without realising it, I nestled closer to him, letting his warmth and the even cadence of his wings lull me into a state of calm. My thoughts, tangled and restless, began to quiet as my eyelids grew heavy.
As I drifted into sleep, the last thing I saw was Zaydon's face, his features softened by the fading light of dusk. At that moment, with the chaos of the day fading into the background, I allowed myself to feel safe in his arms, even if I couldn't yet understand why.
I awoke sometime later, slightly disoriented, the memory of falling asleep in Zaydon's arms clashing with the reality of waking in my bedroom in the castle. The eerie glow of my nightlight bathed the room in an unsettling dimness, casting faint shadows that danced across the walls. As I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed, the softness of the blankets slipping away, my heart raced, trying to piece together how I had gotten here.
The last thing I remembered was the warmth of Zaydon's embrace, the steady rhythm of his wings carrying us through the sky. Now, that comforting presence was gone, replaced by the faint chill of my bedroom and the silence that hung heavy in the air. Glancing at the small clock on the bedside table, I held my breath, praying I hadn't overslept.
I guessed I'd been asleep for no more than an hour. It was 7 p.m., and we had been flying back around sunset, usually at 6 p.m. in autumn. With winter's approach, the sun might have set earlier, meaning my rest could have been a little longer.
My eyes drifted to my body, and I guessed that while I was asleep, my ladies-in-waiting had dressed me in a long-sleeved silver nightgown. The delicate fabric shimmered with a faint, ghostly glow in the dim light, its coolness so different from the warmth of the bed I had just left. I ran my fingers over the smooth, almost icy material, appreciating the elegance of their choice.
But then a surge of resolve pushed me to my feet, the gown whispering around my legs as I moved. I was determined to find my father so that I could hopefully find Zaydon—to confront him about our kiss and everything else that had followed after it. A fierce blush crept up my cheeks at the memory, my heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and dread.
Just as I closed the door to my room, a shadow loomed in the dimly lit corridor. The flickering light barely revealed him, but as he drew closer, a haunting silver glow pulsed around his thick neck. A chilling breeze swept through the passageway, and with it, the horrifying recognition and realisation that it was Zaydon who loomed in the corridor.
He staggered forward, his feet faltering beneath him. Before I could react, he crashed into me, the force of the impact pinning me between his solid frame and the door behind me.
"I'm sorry," Zaydon murmured, his voice a fragile whisper—desperate and broken.
My brows drew together, confusion etching into my expression. Why was he sorry? Was he referring to his behaviour earlier?
"Don't worry about it," I replied, but my voice wavered with concern. My hands reached out instinctively, finding his ribs, the touch tentative and trembling. "Are you okay, Zay?"
His disorientation was obvious as he swayed slightly, his arms braced against the wall beside my head. In my gut, I could feel that there was something horribly wrong, and Zaydon's apology didn't seem to be what I thought it was.
"I'm sorry," he repeated, the words dripping with anguish and guilt.
My heart pounded furiously as I tried to scan him from where I was in the dim light, and my breath caught in my throat. Then, a loud cry of shock escaped my mouth as I took in the sight before me.
A magical circle of runes, glowing with a sickly, faded light, formed a cruel collar around his neck. It hovered an inch above his skin, the bruises and blood around it a brutal image that made me feel nauseous.
I recognised the runes of his collar, and I knew it was no ordinary spell that had been put on him—it was the Dragon's Bond.
The Dragon's Bond was a vile enchantment steeped in a grim history, especially in my kingdom, where it was first made and used. It was a powerful spell that shackled a dragon shifter to another person, usually a princess.
This dark and ancient ritual was rooted in a barbaric era and was used for far more than a mere ceremony; it was a twisted trial of strength and resolve. It was designed to test the mettle of those who dared to seek the hand of a princess bound to a dragon. Killing the dragon somehow made you not only worthy to marry said princess but also worthy enough to rule.
It was a cruel test, one that was as merciless as it was archaic, and when I learned about it, I vowed that when I became queen, I'd find every book that taught one how to do the spell and burn them all. How ironic that I'd bear witness to the real thing around the throat of the man I loved.
My lips trembled as I stared at the fading magical collar that, once completely invisible, would set the spell permanently in place. My hands trembled uncontrollably as I reached out to touch his face, my fingertips brushing against his skin with a tenderness that belied the storm of emotions inside me. I held his face gently, my palms cupping his cheeks, desperately seeking a connection in the midst of my anguish.
"Zaydon, tell me this wasn't your choice—that this wasn't something you did willingly," I implored, my voice cracking under the weight of my plea. I looked into his eyes, searching for any sign that he might deny the truth, clinging to a fleeting hope that this was not the result of his own decision.
Yet, deep down, I knew the cruel reality, though, at that moment, I wished I was ignorant enough to believe a lie if he even gave me one. The Dragon's Bond could only take hold when the dragon willingly accepted it, and that meant Zaydon had agreed to do this… willingly.
I continued to gently hold his face, my hands steadying his trembling form and trying to bridge the chasm between us with the fragile hope that, somehow, this wasn't his own choosing. Zaydon's eyes, usually so fierce and confident, now averted their gaze, revealing a torment that cut deeper than any physical wound. His voice emerged as a broken whisper, barely audible over the tumultuous storm raging within me and the roaring of my blood in my ears.
"I—I did it willingly."
The words hung in the air, their gravity so heavy I couldn't breathe for a moment. My heart felt as though it had plummeted into an abyss of despair, and each beat felt like a painful thud against the cold reality of what Zaydon had just confirmed.
"You didn't ask me," I whispered, the pain in my voice unmistakable. "You didn't give me a choice, Zaydon. You made this decision for both of us."
His eyes closed briefly as if the weight of my words was too much to bear. When they reopened, the torment within them was mirrored in his trembling voice.
"I did it for you... please," he murmured, his tone raw and pleading.
His words, though simple, cut through me with the force of a storm. My chest tightened as I struggled to comprehend his reasoning, to reconcile the man I loved with the one who had made such a monumental, selfish decision without me.
"For me?" I repeated, my voice rising slightly, unable to contain the incredulity that seeped into my tone. "How could you possibly think this was for me, Zaydon? You didn't even give me the chance to decide what I wanted. You just... you just took that from me."
His hands, trembling now, reached up to cover mine where they still cupped his face. His touch was warm, almost desperate as if he were trying to anchor himself to me despite the storm raging between us.
"I couldn't lose you," he whispered, the words barely audible but heavy with emotion. "Not to them. Not to anyone. I—" His voice cracked, his crimson-tinged gaze pleading with mine. "I thought I was protecting you."
The weight of his admission settled over me like a suffocating blanket. His intentions, though born from a place of love, had stripped me of my agency, binding us both to a fate neither of us could escape. My heart ached with a mix of anger, sorrow, and something far more complicated—something that left me feeling as though the ground beneath me had shifted irreparably.