Isabella turned in place, taking in the circular room. Vigilance...Eymar...had insisted that an entire tower be used as the royal family's private lodgings. Royal family. She took a moment to consider those words. The thought of a family both thrilled and terrified her.

She was well aware of what she'd done, and her final visit with the King Tree had confirmed it. In creating the Drengr to her own specifications, and imposing a way for them to dwindle to extinction, she'd also cursed their future. Now, her future, too.

The fates always had a liking for irony. She'd had no idea she'd be tied to Vigilance when she'd blessed him. No idea they'd be mates. But here she was, days from their bonding ceremony.

If the King Tree was to believed—which it was—she would have a daughter some day, but only one, because of the stipulations she'd placed upon the magic that had blessed dragons with humanity.

"Do you like it, Isa?" Eymar's voice held a tentative quality, as if nervous to hear what she thought.

She tensed at the feel of his presence behind her. He must have snuck in without her noticing, or more likely, she'd been absorbed too deeply in her own thoughts.

Isa...not Isabella. No one in all her life had dared to use a nickname on her. She'd already corrected him several times for it, and yet, he did it anyway. She wanted to hate it, but, the bond buzzing between them made things like that endearing.

"It's...perfect," she said, eyes blurring. She clenched her teeth, angry that even her own body rebelled against her. She hadn't chosen this. Hadn't asked to be mated to a Drengr, of all things. Forced to leave her people, forced to mate outside her own race.

She wanted to hate him for it. Oh, how she wanted to hate this Drengr who had declared himself King of Dragonwall. But that was another facet of the bond. It gave her all these...feelings. It garnered her control, took right from her grasp.

She wanted him. She desired him. She craved him.

Blinking, she pushed those thoughts from her mind. This room was entirely for her own, personal use. It was a sitting room, finely decorated, with a roaring fireplace, plush sofas, rugs, and glass doors that glittered along one side, sliding open to reveal a covered terrace balcony to permit the sea breeze.

He'd had the room decorated in hues of green, as if he'd known how much she would miss the forest. The gesture was thoughtful. Considerate. The kind of thing a mate would do.

He came up close behind her and his hands found her shoulders, palms wide and warm. He squeezed gently then lifted a hand to point. "Through there, you'll find a massive wardrobe for all your gowns and things, a mirror to my own. And on the floors below, there are smaller rooms for your ladies and your Queen's Guard." She almost snorted. There was no Queen's Guard. Not anymore. They'd abandoned her as part of her banishment. She was no longer a Spriten Queen. Her belly knotted. Suddenly, even her arms felt so very heavy.

She was not entirely abandoned, though. Her ladies, as he called them, handmaidens, dearest friends, they would go to the ends of the world for her. They remained at her side. She had six. They had chosen to stay with her.

"I will have a look at their quarters," she announced, stepping forward, out of his grasp, and taking the winding stairs that led her to the level beneath. There were indeed two floors of smaller chambers with beds, armoires, small tables, and shelves. Everything one would need for a comfortable living space. Each room was decorated and furnished with care. Eymar had been busy while she'd been away.

He trailed after her, silent, observant.

"I love it," she said at last, returning to the sitting room that was hers. "It's perfect. You thought of everything."

Eymar came to stand before her, his face full of hope. "You do? You will be happy here, then?"

Her chest seized, but she pushed her aching sadness away. What choice did she have, after all? There was nowhere else for her. Even if she tried to reject the bond simmering between them. Even if she tried to run from it, she could never go home. No...it wasn't home anymore. This. This was to be her home now.

"Yes," she managed, her throat clogging with emotion, making words more difficult to form.

He stepped forward, his movements hesitant.

How much longer could she avoid him? How much longer could she fight the burning attraction simmering between them. How much longer could she keep herself from touching him?

He had been respectful. She'd gone where she pleased, wandered Dragonwall for a time while he poured all his efforts into erecting the greatest city the kingdom had ever seen—or would ever see. She had helped some, when she deigned to stay long enough for it, using her magic to pair with his, to construct the Great Keep that was to be her new home.

He hadn't liked her prolonged absences, though. Even if he kept silent on the matter. After all, he'd been little more than a youth when he'd first come to her as a dragon. Would he always see her as the wiser of them?

Yet, things had changed after he'd become a Drengr. He'd been thrust into a role that matured him to near unrecognizable. When they'd met again, all those years ago on the rocky outcropping, when he'd told her what she was to him, what they were to create together, he'd already been different. And now, he was even more so.

But the years had caught up with her. The time spent away from the forest. The bond tugging at her chest. Was it as painful for him as it was for her?

"Isabella," he whispered. Raw emotion crossed his features, his face turning dark with hunger and desperation. For her. Always for her. But it was different from the looks of awe he used to face her with, when they'd met all those years ago. When he'd first become human. This was deeper. More desperate. Unstoppable.

"I...I don't know," she managed, an answer to so many questions he'd posed in that single utterance of her name. She didn't know if she could be what he needed—his mate. She didn't know if she could be Dragonwall's queen, a queen of the race she abhorred, the race she'd tried to sneakily destroy over time. She didn't know if she could be happy here. She didn't know if she could continue to live in exile. She didn't know a lot of things, it seemed.

He lifted a hand, traced the luminescent marking that fringed her jawbone. She shuttered. Fire leapt beneath her skin. Without realizing it, she took a step closer. Kiss me. Her body screamed the words to him, but she couldn't seem to make her mouth work.

"Eymar," she managed to whisper. She'd gotten better about using his preferred name. His Drengr name. He'd been so quick to abandon his wild dragon side. She couldn't blame him, after all, with the bad reputation dragons had made for themselves.

"We don't have to do this, love." Her heart burst with unexpected warmth at the endearment. "If you aren't ready, we can push the date back. We can do away with it entirely. I am not forcing you to live here with me. I am not forcing you to become my mate—"

She lifted onto her toes and captured his mouth, silencing him. A small growl of surprise, of wanting rose from his throat. His arms came around her, pressing her against his chest. He kissed her back, his lips moving over hers, softly brushing before turning hungrier. Sometimes she forgot how giant he was, how much he towered over her. Even on her tiptoes the top of her head barely reached his chin.

A tingling ache spread through her, starting where their kiss did, and trickling down her body, pooling in her core. She kissed him harder, opening her mouth when his tongue swept in and met hers. A raw sound escaped. Hers? His? She didn't know. Couldn't think. His fingers tangled into her hair, pulling her head back to give him a better angle, his movements possessive. She might have been the power between them, but here in this moment, when their bodies flirted, he was the reigning force.

Knowing he had this kind of control left her aching for him. Aching to hand him everything. Aching to submit.

His kiss said it all. He wanted that. And...she found herself giving in.

There could be no holding back—not now, not anymore. She needed to make a choice, here and now. She was either all in, or she needed to leave. Doing things by halves had never been her way.

As if sensing her inner struggle, he pulled away slightly, keeping hold of her. They stared at each other, breathing hard. "I will have whatever you are willing to give me," he said, his voice a rumble. It was very un-dragonlike of him to say it.

The sentiment softened her heart.

"And if I chose to give you everything?"

His eyes flared, heated, like living flames. "Then I will take it all. And in return I will worship you. I will adore you. I will always respect you. Trust you. Lean on you. Love you to the ends of the earth and beyond."

She inhaled. It was so very different from how things were done in Esterpine. Queens ruled, all others submitted. Even the queens who took willing partners to father children, never permitted them power. It was a matriarchy. But what Eymar wanted to build, a Drengr monarchy...

She swallowed.

"Will you be mine?" he whispered against his lips. "I so very desperately wish to be yours."

Everything in her broke apart. She kissed him again, even deeper this time. "What if I cannot do it?" she said at last, voicing her deepest fear. "What if your people reject me? What if I cannot change what I am? What if I cannot lead beside you, as your queen? What if—"

"Isabella," he said, silencing her with another kiss. "We would be mated. We would be one. Your doubts, your fears, while they are understandable, valid even, they are not something you must bear alone. I will be here. I will always be here."

She inhaled then nodded, letting this small show of weakness, of vulnerability, out in the open for him to see.

His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks. "I thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the world, that day I beheld you. But you have become something so much more dear to me, love. I..." His throat bobbed. Something flashed over his expression. She saw then, just for a brief moment, the doubts he too carried. "I cannot do this without you," he said at last.

Her eyes darted between his. "I am yours," she said at last, giving him the answer he sought. "Yours completely. And you are mine. We will do this together. We will rule together."

His eyes widened briefly before he pressed his forehead against hers. She felt the sigh that left him, scented the smoke on his breath. For all that he appeared human, there would always be traces that never allowed her to forget what he truly was. But she suspected that once they were mated, even those telltale signs wouldn't bother her as much anymore.

A tiny, nagging feeling clawed at the back of her mind. She didn't tell him what she'd spoken of with the Tree. Didn't tell him of the price she was yet to pay. What was the point? She hadn't a clue what it might be—hoped it would not be anything too catastrophic. The time would come when she had to say something, but now was not that time.

So instead, she brushed her cheek against his, then kissed him again. Her mate. Her future.

~

Isabella smoothed her hands over the glittering skirts of her gown. It was...obscene, the amount of fabric her handmaidens had insisted she use. It covered nearly every inch of skin. Hardly any of her markings could be seen, as if she were trying to hide who she was—what she was.

"Luth utah aahm luine bei eusil, Ayas Drollaya," Amellee said. It is what people will expect.

My people, she realized, the implication sinking in. Humans. They were her people now. She'd gone from ruling an old, proud race, to ruling a people who lived and died in a blink. They were unrefined, unsophisticated, messy, careless...useless. Her lips pressed together.

For a brief moment her gut tightened into a hard knot. So...this was to be it, then? Her life?

No, she couldn't think like that. She was to be their mother now. She needed to love them as if they were her children. Instead of seeing the bad, she needed to see the good.

She pushed her pride out of mind. She wasn't just doing this for Dragonwall, she was doing it for Eymar. A fresh start for them both.

"Mi stenn haan nih lit cenvor luth gaanih sin glaha," she complained, failing to hide the whiny tone to her voice. I still don't see why it cannot be green.

She wouldn't dare whine like this before anyone but her handmaidens. They were like sisters to her. Closer, even. She loved every one of them. They'd seen her at her best and her worst, and she'd seen them.

"Ayas Drollaya," Elisyana teased, fussing with her hair. "You complain...much," she said, attempting to speak the common tongue. They'd never had a need before now. Only a fraction of the Sprites in her kingdom bothered to learn it.

No, not her kingdom anymore.

Her chest tightened. She pushed the sensation away. She couldn't let herself think of it, of her exile. It was too...devastating. To...humiliating.

She'd believed her handmaidens would want nothing to do with her, once she told them. That they'd see her as disgrace. But they'd stuck with her.

Her fate was to be theirs, they'd declared. So she'd built a small shrine, that they could continue to honor the King Tree in their own way, even if she felt as if she had no desire to do so.

"But why must it be the color of his scales?" she muttered in Edunar, still caught up on the color of her gown. It was stunning, truly stunning. The deep blue color of the base layer was covered in layer of thin crape-like fabric, which was covered in shades of dark blue glass beads and crystals. It glittered like dragon scales when it caught the light.

"There was no rule for it, Your Majesty," Amellee explained, also in Edunar. "But it was suggested, as a way to show you have submitted to your new...mate. That you are willing to forsake your people, to unite with him. United as one."

Again that pang, that tightness in her chest, blossomed. She rubbed a hand over her breast. Elisyana finished with her hair, stepping back. "Is everything...good, Your...Drollaya?"

"Majesty," she corrected, helping Elisyana remember the word.

"Majesty," Elisyana said. Several other handmaidens who stood about, on call if they were needed, also repeated the word. They were all hoping to learn, to fit in.

"It's fine," she answered in the common tongue. "It will all be fine."

An entire ceremony had been planned to celebrate their mate bond. All Eymar's idea, of course. Had it been her choice, she'd have simply sealed the bond. But he felt it important that they set the example.

Ever since King Eymar's Drengr race had discovered the existence of mate bonds with humans, they'd begun to adapt various behaviors, traditions. Holding a ceremony to honor the bond was becoming common practice, though not every Drengr bothered with it. But Eymar thought it might be nice if it was lifted above all else, "Like the humans and their marriage ceremonies," he'd explained.

She'd kept from rolling her eyes, humoring his wishes. Now she almost wished she hadn't. She'd be a spectacle. Hundreds would fill the new throne room and she'd be scrutinized, whispered about, as she walked down the central aisle, towards the dais, where the ceremony would happen.

It was even Eymar's idea to exchange gifts, to speak special words that had been written by a royal menstrual for the occasion. It was all so...unnecessary.

But...perhaps she only felt that way because these weren't her customs. If they'd been Sprite customs, she would never turn her nose up. She needed to remember that. Needed to remember that she was to be Dragonwall's queen now. That meant new customs, new traditions, a new frame of mind, a new way of thinking.

As she made her way from her dressing parlor in the King's Tower—another ridiculous notion she scorned, calling the tower for the king instead of both rulers—she could only think about her deepest misgivings. How was she going to survive this new way of life? How was she ever going to be the kind of queen they wanted? The kind of queen she knew was so very different from the one she had always been?

She would just have to step into the unknown, and see what happened. Her time was up. All she could do now was hope for the best.

⭐🌟 DON'T FORGET TO VOTE!!🌟⭐

Hi Bookdragons!

SURPRISE!!!!! I know I said I would begin posting chapters on December 16, 2022. But, this is the prologue. So it doesn't count, amiright? And who doesn't like a little appetizer before the main dish? 

So, here you go. I think this might be the longest prologue I've written. Like the others, I wanted it to mirror the main theme of the story, which, you will come to find, is all about Claire's uncertainty at becoming a "good" queen. After all, becoming Dragonwall's queen is a lot of pressure! We are all familiar with imposter syndrome. We all know what it's like to not feel good enough at something or another, whether it's something small, or something big. I can certainly relate!

I'll be posting up the first couple of chapters on the 16th and after that, it will be one chapter per week, as you are all familiar with by now (except for those of you new enough to have stumbled on this series recently, lucky enough to binge read the whole thing without ever having to wait!). 

I've missed you all! When I opened BtO the other day, I saw that there is a whopping 400 comments on the title page! MIND BLOWN!! I could really feel your excitement, and that's why I decided to post this early (You've all earned it!).

See you next week!

-Mel