Sold To The Dragon Princes: The Novel

by Daniella Wright

  And now the fear settles in. I might be fond of him, but I do know that he's prone to losing his temper. He doesn't like the idea of anyone betraying him, no matter the reason for it, because Alaric hurt him all those years ago. He's just learning to love Alaric again, I think.

  But he also needs to know he can't have a monopoly on the lives around him. That's not what it's all about. I'm not a doll to be kept perfectly. I have my own wants and needs, and sometimes they'll clash with his. I might be okay with the idea of living in the mountains and wanting for very little, but that doesn't mean I don't miss what I left behind. Well. I don't miss that much, but I do have some fond memories. Through a sea of monotony and sometimes pain, there are things life on earth offers.

  And sometimes, it's worth it.

  Back at Cael's house, we sit down, and face one another with guarded expressions, neither sure what to say. I'm glad to see that some of his animosity has faded, though.

  “Perhaps... we should eat,” Cael says, now glancing over to where mountain trout are strung up from hooks in the low ceiling by the kitchen. “I find it's relaxing to have full stomachs.”

  In no uncertain terms, he's telling me he needs some more time to think through what has happened. I nod, and set to trying to fillet fish. I'm not exactly great at this, since I'm used to pre packaged foods. When the servants offer to help me, I shrug them away. I want to do this alone. I'll never get better at something if other people keep doing it for me.

  The result after an hour of tedious work is two filleted fish, though one of the servants insists on polishing it off since my efforts are a mangled mess. I let her, and she assists with the seasoning as well, before we place it over the stove and begin to cook it. She tells me that eating a fish without deboning it tends to be better, because if you cook it right, the flesh peels off the bones anyway. You just need to be careful when eating it.

  After the fish is cooked, Cael and I sit opposite one another, chewing away at our spiced mountain trout, and I'm debating how to bring up the ever risky subject of Alaric again.

  I have a feeling I'll need to do that, once we've cleared the waters on this issue. I notice how he glances at my lips when I chew, at my hand as if he wants to grasp it in his.

  “I'm sorry,” I say to him. “It really was driving me crazy.” I wipe my mouth, waiting for Cael to interrupt. When he doesn't, it gives me courage to continue. “I badly wanted to love living here. Even in spite of the... way I was taken. But I just could never fully love it when I know there are people out there who think I am dead. Who might be grieving every day. People kill themselves over things like this. How could I deny my parents the chance? How can I deny myself the opportunity?”

  Cael grimaces, closing his eyes for a moment. “We find it easier to remove all chances of contact. It's less complicated for us this way.”

  “Well – better to tell my parents I'm dead then, instead of the half-hope I might be around,” I reply. My voice is colder than intended. There's a blizzard swirling around my soul. All this hides a quaver, a break of emotion that threatens to crack through my skin. My left hand is trembling. The other grips my fork tightly. “We need connections, Cael. You rip us away from them, there's every chance we'll go mad.”

  At long last, Cael gives me a nod, and a sigh. Resignation. He's let go of the last vestiges of his anger. “Perhaps I should have trusted you more. You truly didn't tell them about being taken?”

  “No! It's not worth... threatening this lifestyle.” What a horrible person I am. What child wouldn't want to return to its parents, especially if those parents had showered them in love? But no. I'm choosing my own happiness. And I'm choosing it here. Why does seeking happiness mean forgetting other people? Why does it sometimes mean making them suffer? “Maybe it's selfish of me, but I don't want to give up this freedom so soon. I don't want to give up... you.” I swallow hard the lump in my throat. It's really trying to choke up all the words I have. My heart's twisting itself into knots, thinking about the words I want to say. I just want everything to be okay. But how will that be possible like this? Cael still doesn't want to admit he likes Alaric. He's always rough in sex. It's thrilling, but it doesn't take away the fact that he removes the love from it.

  It doesn't change the fact he struggles to talk to Alaric alone, yet he's okay nowadays in talking to me. He even probes a little about how Alaric is, though he always tries to disguise it as something else.

  I have this notion digging into my brain that if I can get these two to fix their rift, relations between all of us will boost wonderfully. We're fine alone. It's when we're all together that the danger sparks fly.

  If I'm going to spend the rest of my life here, these two need to get over their shit.

  “I think I can understand. From what I've seen of your human world, you put a lot of unnecessary pressure on yourselves. Perhaps it's a consequence of your large population.”

  “Perhaps. But Cael. I also want to stay because I like you.”

  At this, the shifter gives a snort, though his eyes widen at my statement. “I haven't given you any reason to like me, Bronnen. Don't you think the way I treated you is cruel? You couldn't possibly be attracted to someone like this.”

  “That's where you're wrong. Because you're not cruel, Cael. You're afraid, maybe. Afraid of admitting you still like Alaric, that you like the arrangement we have together. That despite your sense of betrayal, you still want to be with him.”

  At this, Cael's tiny smile dissolves into a frown. I try not to flinch, as I stare into his amber eyes, the soft, oval face with the black stubble and curly black hair. He's dreamy when he's not staring with eyes like black coals. But even then, there's a fierce beauty in him. It's something primal, noble. A part of who he is. A part of something I never imagined I might one day be involved with.

  Yet here I am. Being here is like having my head split into two halves. One half revolves around, telling me that I'm insane, I've been corrupted by the easy living of the mountains, and have forgotten about what the world is like because I've been removed from it for too long. This part likes to worry, and sometimes the worry is a bubble that comes into my lungs from the air I breathe, making it hard to think or stay calm. The other half tells me that I've been blessed with a rare opportunity. Of course it's a good idea to be here. Remove the initial circumstances that brought me here, and I have the perfect life that others can only dream of. A life we yearn to touch, to have encompass us.

  A life that is mine.

  Sometimes one of those view points overpower the other, knocking me out of equilibrium. I worry so much I start planning my escape, I start ignoring the things I love. Other times, I so effectively blot out the memories of my former life, that it's like I was never born in the human world.

  Both viewpoints are wrong. There has to intend be a fine blend of them, because that's what life is. A fine blend of good and bad, of decisions and consequences, of denying happiness or embracing it.

  “I don't like the idea of you being right,” he eventually says. He rubs his face, weary, worn down. It's not something I'm used to seeing from him. My eyes dip to his black collared shirt, which is severe against his neck.

  “There's no way you can keep something like this up for so long unless a part of you wishes to have him again,” I say with a sad smile. I manage another chunk of my fish. It's delicious, but I don't have the appetite. “You try to hide it, Cael. You try to act harsh, always saying it's because we like it that you do it. But you miss him.”

  Cael works his lower jaw silently for a moment. “I've not been kind or good to you for a princess,” he says, prompting me to stop picking at my food and listen. I arrange my fur robes a little tighter to stop the chill breeze wafting in. “And by all rights, you should be running around and screaming. Instead, you're enduring this all with a saintly patience. My parents adore you. You treat the servants nicely. I feel good walking with you by my side. I feel like I can love you. But...” He chews on his bottom
lip, and I'm enraptured by the gesture. “But I'm not sure I will ever be able to love you enough. Or him the same way again. I think that what we do is all we'll ever amount to. Sex. Enjoying the moment. Nothing more. Making it complicated is a recipe for disaster.”

  Hmm. He's honest, I'll give him that. I don't feel hurt or particularly surprised by his words, though I start gearing myself up to tackle the one huge thorn in his side. In both of our sides. He's being open for once. He's not pushing me away. I have to press the advantage whilst I still can.

  “It doesn't have to be like that. It doesn't have to be a disaster. That's just your fear speaking.”

  It's also mine. I squeeze his hand, enjoying his contemplative attitude.

  “We fear for a reason, Bronnen. It's to protect ourselves.” Cael glances at the floor, his hand greasy in mine. Greasy from fear? From realization? I feel his heartbeat in the curve of his wrist. It's fast, almost humming. He's afraid now.

  I have to be careful where I step.

  “It's true. But sometimes... we have to face them, Cael. Which is why I'm gonna go for the elephant in the room. Don't freak out. Don't threaten. This needs to be said. It concerns Alaric Frostgreen.”

  Immediately, Cael's eyes contract from mild affection to mild hatred. He hisses through his nostriils, but doesn't relinquish his hold on me.

  “I have to do this,” I reiterate. “It's painfully obvious that none of us are going to get anywhere as long as you don't forgive him.”

  Cael's jaw clenches, and he looks as if he wants to shriek something, but manages to swallow the impulse. Please, I think. Don't let pride get in the way. Don't let fear dominate. I want to move on with my life, go into the future that I envision. It's so perfect, so crystalline. If we make it there, then why not get the happy ending that so many people strive for, and so few get? “Go on,” he says. “I'll listen. No need to look so anxious.”

  I chuckle wryly. I relax my tensed up muscles, taking deep breaths. Stopping the tremor in my spare arm. My food's been forgotten. Same as Cael's. They might be the best tasting fishes on this planet, but right now, this is more important.

  Do I hit him with my words like a sledgehammer, or do I dance around the topic? Some people can't take a frontal assault. Some need to be led carefully into the light.

  I've never really been one for subtlety, though. May as well walk into this, guns blazing, ready to plant my banner at the front of the battle. I mentally roll up imaginary sleeves. “I know you still love him. And I know you hate it. And I know you feel bad doing what you do, because you know he'll do anything for you at this point. Even to get a sliver of affection.”

  Cael is silent a moment, considering my words. Not exploding. Not cursing. It's impressive, actually. I knew he had this self control in him. He just allows Alaric and betrayal to be a sore point. Allows it to stab right into the heart of who he is.

  Time to let out the rest of my statement. My heart's now pulsing faster than his. It's like a jackhammer against concrete, pounding so loud that I'm surprised it hasn't already made a hole in my chest. “I think you should open a dialogue with him. It might not turn out well, but you do need to find it in you to forgive him. What he did was wrong. I'm not disagreeing on that. What I'm saying is that he's trying to make up for it. Don't throw away your chance for love under this. It will break you both.”

  I breathe heavily as the last of the words tumble out my mouth, and Cael says nothing. The silence stretches longer, becoming lethal, becoming a thread that compresses my lungs. He's warring in his mind, I can see it. The cogs in his brain are ticking, and something twitches in his jaw. Hate and love form a circle there, eating one another's tails.

  What will he choose? To have a life of good fucks but no intimacy, or a risk where he places his heart on his hands and holds it out for everyone to see?

  I don't think I could make the right decision if I was in his shoes. I think I would be a coward, and retreat into my shell, and never come out again. But as me, I wish hard for him to stay out of that shell. To do the right thing. I want to feel love. I want to be loved. Fucking gets old after a while. It's just something the body reacts to. It's a fever, but it doesn't have that same allure as love.

  It takes him a while longer, before he whispers. “Okay.”

  “Okay?” My emotions give a chaotic leap, out of the darkness of my stomach and into the light of my heart. This better be what I hope it means. I don't dare to voice it out loud. I want the confirmation with him, just in case I've got it wrong.

  He closes his eyes, before staring into mine, stirring my blood. “You may be right. This has gone on for long enough. I need to...” He pauses, sighs, “things need to change.”

  “That they do,” I agree, silently elated, resisting the urge to get up and start crowing. That might diminish the victory somewhat if he's perplexed by my reaction. I want him to be sound of mind, not doubting his decision. I feel a little like a puppeteer at this moment, smushing two dolls together and forcing them to kiss. I can do this. I can steer them towards one another.

  I really am the bridge. Not just between two clans, but two hearts. All of us are connected now, for better or for worse. And I'll be damned if these two make me regret my decision to stay, to leave my parents unsatisfied, though at least knowing that I'm alive and well off. I'll need to explain more to them in time. And hopefully, I can make another call with Alaric and Cael's blessing. Hopefully.

  Since Alaric only comes around when it's time to pick me up to return to the Frostgreen mountains – which coincidentally is tomorrow evening, I extract the promise from him that he won't back out of this or allow his fear to steal over his senses. He'll talk to Alaric. He'll try to patch things up. He'll give his former partner another chance. It will be more than wild sex and darkness, then. There will be space for kindness, for gentle love, for seeing one another more often than the start and end of a week.

  Several times, I see it in Cael's expression that he wants to take back everything he's said. But then he looks at me and seems to draw resolve from that. I've never been a source of resolve for someone before. It's flattering, actually. More flattering than someone telling me I'm pretty or wanting to sleep with me.

  I seek out Melantha later, since we usually have a game session in the late afternoon, but it's been called off, because she needed a heart to heart with Yuna. I tell them both what's happening with Cael. When I finish it, Yuna lets out a sigh, rolling her amber eyes.

  “At last. Took them long enough. I couldn't stand him mooning about because he was upset over Alaric. Don't know what he sees in that blondie, personally. I find Alaric too insufferable for my tastes.”

  “That could be cos your taste is in vaginas,” Melantha points out, which prompts a laugh from me and a smirk from Yuna. It's true, unfortunately, from how I've seen Yuna regard women in general. She regards Melantha the highest of them all.

  “Yes, well. That doesn't change the fact I can still like someone for their personality. And he's not my type. My brother tends to have peculiar tastes. We overlap in our taste of women as well.” She glances at me. “You're not bad, dearie, but you're nothing compared to my Melantha.”

  Melantha smiles rather smugly at this, before nudging me on in my left ribs and giving a smirk. “See? I'm hotter than you.”

  “Keep dreaming,” I say, sharing the smirk. We nudge each other in this manner for a full minute after this, until I topple off the chair and cause my friend to shriek with laughter.

  “Do you think you'll be happy here, Melantha? Are you glad you spoke to your dad?” I grasp her on the shoulder when I ask this, and she chews her bottom lip, frowning.

  “Think so. I like it here. And I'm glad I told my dad I'm okay. He'll find it hard at first, but hopefully he'll pick up the pieces of his life and soldier on.” She holds my grasping hand for a moment by angling her arm. “Least I got a friend or two here I wouldn't mind spending time with. And a person who is... invested in me.” Now she looks over
to Yuna, who is watching us both fondly.

  “Always,” Yuna says.

  The word sticks in the air, becoming bigger than it is. Making the moment intimate and awkward at the same time. Then Yuna coughs, breaking the spell.

  “I should go,” I say. “I need to make sure Cael isn't going to have second thoughts and back out.”

  “If he does, you come straight to me,” Yuna said, eyes as hard as agates. “And I'll whip him the right way. He's agreed. No way he'll back out of this now.”

  “Thank you.” I smile appreciation to Yuna. When she gets going, she's unstoppable, and that's not the bad kind of ally to have. I give Melantha and Yuna a hug, before sauntering back to Cael's section of the Spiden clan. Despite my outward nonchalance, my nerves are cutting themselves up in a frenzy. Because I think Cael can be whimsical at times, changing his thoughts rapidly when shame and embarrassment set in.