Queen Amara swept into Lena's room and bade her to sit before pulling up an additional chair beside Lena's vanity. Her round face was stony as her honey-colored eyes roved over Lena's blue gown, finished hair, and clean face. When she next spoke, she kept her voice calm and controlled, honed from years of practice. "That was a very irresponsible thing you just did, Lena. You have not behaved the way a princess ought to behave."

Lena crossed her arms. "I'm not sure what you're talking about, Mother."

"Do not play dumb with me, young lady." Amara's eyes narrowed and her voice lost a measure of its control. "Your games have gone too far. Do you think this is a joke?"

"I'll tell you a joke, Mother, a wonderful joke." Lena's face flushed. "That I cannot rule because I am a woman—that I cannot step into my birthright because of my sex? That is a joke. The funniest joke in all the world."

Amara's chest deflated. The queen had a slight build, similar to her daughter's. "We've been through this so many times. What you say is not true. Your father and I are not withholding your right to rule."

"Then why can't I become queen on my own?" Lena sat up straighter.

"You know the answer, but still you ask." Amara shook her head. The deep blue gems in her hairnet glittered as they caught the light. "You are a human, Lena. Human."

"You mean, I'm not good enough," said Lena. No matter how many times her parents told her that, no matter how many times they made it painfully clear, hearing it never got any easier. Dragonwall was meant to be ruled by the Drengr, with the crown passing from father to son. Lena had broken the line, but even then, there was still a chance for it to continue. That's why the Drengr hopefuls were here.

"Lena, you're intelligent, strong, clever..." Her heart constricted upon hearing her mother's praise, rarely given. "Even if you are a little too stubborn. You can still be queen. You can still rule."

"Only with a mate, Mother. Only with a Drengr king as my figurehead." The nails of her fingers were biting into her skin, but she kept her fists clenched and her arms crossed.

"All the more reason to take this ceremony seriously," said Amara. "Frightening away your guests is not a good start."

"Ugh!" Lena threw up her hands, slumping back in her chair. "I don't want a mate, Mother! Perhaps someday, when I'm ready, but not now. It is unfair—you know it is. You know that if I were a male, this ceremony business wouldn't be required."

"If you were a male, Lena, you'd fledge into a dragon. If you were a male, you'd have hundreds of years to live. But you're not and you don't. Your eighteenth name day is right around the corner. You understand what is at stake here. Why must you be so difficult?!" Amara sighed in an attempt to regain her composure. Little lines had appeared around her eyebrows where they were drawn together. "You know the words as well as I. In the rare event that a female is born unto the Drengr monarchy, she has until her—"

"Eighteenth name day to find a mate, else she must give up her right to rule. I know what the Charter says, Mother." She had read it over and over, trying to find a loophole. Late nights spent with a candle in hand, haunting the library, poring over the document in hopes of finding a way out. None existed.

"Then why must you fight your father and I? We did not make the rules." Amara leaned back in her chair, finally abandoning her good posture. These arguments of theirs had become increasingly frequent.

"I'm fighting you, Mother, because it is absolutely ridiculous—absolutely unfair."

"Be that as it may, it is tradition, and you will abide by it."

"How can this be tradition if it has never happened before?" She already knew her mother's answer. She could have ended the argument here, but instead she pushed. "In six thousand years, I am the first female born unto the royal family. The first! How can it be tradition, if it has never been done before?"

"Princess Irelia was the first, Lena. We all know that."

"Yes, sure, but she died before she reached seventeen."

Red blotches of frustration appeared on Amara's face. "Yes, Irelia died. That changes nothing. Just because you dislike the rules does not mean you can throw them out." Amara placed her hands on the armrests of the chair. "Look, Lena, I thought you would take this seriously. Perhaps I was wrong. You have a choice to face." She hesitated, letting her words sink in. "It is not too late. I can send the Drengr hopefuls home tonight. We can end this here and now. You can give up your right to rule. Is that what you want?"

Lena remained silent. Her mother was offering her a way out. Should she take it? The idea of tying herself to another squeezed the very breath from her chest. It left her feeling trapped. She had her whole life ahead—years and years and years to find someone.

An uglier thought nagged at her. It wasn't the first time she had considered it, either. She frowned, trying to push it away, but couldn't. "Mother, what if there is no Drengr mate for me? What then?" She dreaded failure more than she dreaded being trapped.

"We both know the answer, Lena." This time, her mother's voice was softer. "In the event that no bond exists, the Tournament for the Crown will be scheduled. The winner will become the crowned prince. When your father and I finally pass from this life, that Crowned Prince will become Dragonwall's next king, whether he has a mate or not."

The rules were cruel. "So...you really want me to cooperate in this ceremony thing?"

"Your father and I would appreciate it, yes. You becoming the next queen means keeping our bloodline alive. It would mean a great deal to us if you cooperated."

She considered her lessons, her training in politics, the things her mother and father had taught her. Her whole life had been spent preparing to become the next ruling monarch. She didn't know anything else. At last she sighed, beaten. "The ceremony should continue. I don't have a choice. But...maybe we can make a deal—you, me, and Father?"

"A deal? I do not think you are in a position to bargain." Still, her mother looked relieved.

Lena held up her hand. "Just hear me out, Mama." She often used mama when she wanted something. "If I agree to cooperate—to participate in this ceremony and behave over the next two weeks—will you and father finally allow me to take archery lessons?" All Riders were taught to use a bow as part of their training regimen. She was not a Rider—not yet, anyway.

"Archery lessons?" Her mother placed a hand over her chest. "That is what you are bargaining for?"

"Well—yes. Every time I ask, you say no. You both know how badly I want to learn now, not later. And I promise that I will not let it interfere with my tutoring from Kenna Margaret, nor my afternoons with Father. What does Father think?"

She knew her father was listening to every word of this conversation. Her mother and father were mates—a Drengr and Rider pair. They shared their minds. And like all pairs, they were capable of having only one child. When the great Queen Isabella blessed dragons with humanity, allowing them to take on a human form, she imposed a cruel price upon them. Drengr-Rider pairs always cherished their children more because of this. Perhaps that's why Lena tried to get away with so much.

"Your father has agreed," Amara announced almost instantly. That's how paired minds worked. "If you promise to behave yourself, meaning no more childish tricks, you may begin your training with the bow."

"Yes!" Lena screeched, jumping to her feet. She ran to her mother and locked her arms around Amara's neck, giving her a big hug and a kiss on the forehead. "Thank you, Mama, thank you. I promise I will do my best to behave."

Her mother's smile was slow, but soft. "I know, dear heart." She affectionately nuzzled her nose against Lena's cheek before pushing her away. Then she stood and walked over to Lena's bathing chamber, as if there were an important task to complete. She hesitated just a moment before pulling the door open. Four women toppled out. Lena's handmaidens must have been leaning against it, listening to the entire conversation. They brought the queen down with them into a pile of billowing gowns. Everyone burst into a fit of hysterical laughter. Oh, to see a queen buried and laughing!

Lena grinned as she watched the spectacle. "I suppose I should have mentioned that they were listening in," she said.

"Oh, I already knew," said Amara, getting to her feet. She brushed herself off and collected her golden crown, which had rolled across the floor. "Now"—she looked around Lena's room—"get rid of all these rags. I don't want to see them ever again." She pointed at the leftover clothes upon the floor. Only then did Lena realize she'd forgotten to clean up her mess before her mother's arrival. No wonder she'd been so transparent.

"At once, Mama."

Her mother nodded, satisfied. "And when you finish with that, you are to see your father." She swept from the room leaving Lena to do as she was told.

*

The King's Tower was located on the south side of the Great Keep, just down the hall from Lena's apartment. She made her way to her father, walking slowly. Along the way, she studied the six paintings that adorned the walls. They were taller than she was, taking up a great span from floor to ceiling. It was called the Hall of Kings, as if the queens were an afterthought, or no thought at all. Each pair of rulers, beginning with King Eymar and Queen Isabella, had their own painting.

She stopped before the one of her parents, admiring the vivid colors and gilded gold frame. Her queen mother stood proudly beside her father's hulking turquoise dragon form. She was dressed as a Rider and held a beautiful bow in her left hand with a quiver of arrows strapped across her back. They both gazed back at Lena with uncanny likeness. She knew this painting so well that she could picture it in her mind's eye with her eyes closed.

The Hall of Kings was simply another example of unfairness. She snorted and moved farther down, her mood threatening to unravel. A queen could not rule without a Drengr king by her side, but a Drengr king could easily rule alone. No one understood why females born to pairs never fledged. Like many aspects of the Drengr race, it was a question without an answer. Queen Isabella had left the world with many of these mysteries.

Lena placed herself before the tower guards and smiled. Being a tower guard was a prestigious position and these guards took their role very seriously. They saluted her when she appeared. "Good afternoon, Thomas, Renly," she said.

"Princess Lena." They did not uncross their spears. "We heard you gave our new guests quite a show."

"Did you now?" She arched an eyebrow. "Word travels quickly."

"Your mother was furious, I'll bet?" Thomas smirked.

"You can say that." She grinned, knowing they had heard the yelling. "Now, are you going to let me by? I have business with my father."

"Of course, Princess." Their spears uncrossed. Thomas opened the door for her and then closed it once she was through.

The King's Tower was enormous—larger than any house in the city. Its cylindrical shape jutted from the side of the keep's southern wing, overlooking the sea with a spectacular view from all directions. There were multiple levels to the tower, but only a single entrance. This allowed the royal family some privacy.

Lena stood within the tower's entryway, greeting the two male servants that stood like statues in their gold and white livery. The entry led directly into a round, formal sitting area. Behind that was the largest balcony in the keep, large enough to fit a dragon. Today was a nice day, so all the doors were thrown open to allow the sea breeze entry. Along the inner sides of the sitting room were a number of interior doors leading to multiple stairways—some up, some down—that wound around the inner wall of the circular façade. Her father's study was through a door to her left, then down a stairway to the floor below.

She found the king poring over documents, hunched over his mahogany desk, his nose nearly kissing the parchment. His study also had a balcony and the doors were likewise thrown open. Cream-colored curtains rustled softly in the breeze. She greeted her father from behind, leaning around his high-backed chair to plant a kiss on his cheek, then went to stand before the open doors, parting the curtains to gaze out at the Southern Sea. She never tired of the view.

When her father finished with his task, he cleared his throat. "And how did our honored guests react when you presented yourself in that ridiculous costume?"

She giggled and turned to face him. For someone slightly over six hundred years old, he didn't look much older than a mortal fifty.

She and her father shared the same chestnut brown hair and eyes, though his face was more oblong than hers. She had her mother to thank for that. And like all the Drengr, King Cornan was handsome, especially with a crown atop his brow. He set his quill down. "I can only imagine what a fright you must have given them. I'm surprised they aren't already fleeing."

"Oh, Father, I wish you had been there." She failed to keep the laughter from her voice. "I don't think they've ever seen anything like me. And when they discovered that I was the princess, they were speechless." Cornan's mouth turned up in a half smile. "I am sorry, though," said Lena. "I suppose I should have taken it more seriously. You entrusted me with a responsibility that I was not ready to confront."

King Cornan leaned forward, folding his hands together. "And are you ready now?"

"Oh Papa!" She sighed and plopped into the chair across from him—her favorite chair. "You know how I feel about this. For years you trained me, taught me everything I needed to know about ruling a kingdom, but there was one thing you missed." Her chest crumpled in on itself whenever she thought of it. "You did not prepare me for the realization that I may never become queen."

She had been cheated, and no one could possibly understand what that felt like. She'd spent the early years of her life believing that she would become queen. When she discovered it was conditional, she was devastated. Now everyone expected her to find her mate, but even if such a mate existed, finding him was entirely out of her control. It wasn't a thing of choice. Fate alone was responsible for the pairing. To her, it seemed like trying to find a one-of-a-kind starfish at the bottom of an ocean without knowing where to look.

"Darling Lena, you act as though you have already failed." Her father's voice pulled her from her reverie. "At this very moment, there are twenty-seven unmated Drengr living in our kingdom and every single one of them is in this castle."

"And that guarantees me success?"

He shrugged. "Females born unto Drengr-Rider pairs—females like you, Lena—are incredibly rare. They almost always become Riders."

"Almost, Father. Not always."

"Almost, is enough reason to take this seriously. With a Drengr mate you will live a long life—a happy life—and you will be queen." He tossed her a letter. "What do you make of this?"

She frowned before turning to the letter, skimming its contents. "Another pirate raid?" Her stomach tensed. "Norshore can't afford it. How will they recover?" She skimmed further down. "Seventy dead? One hundred missing?"

"Slave-trade. I'm certain of it."

"It's disgusting! How can they...?"

He agreed. "What do you reckon we should do? What would you do, were you Dragonwall's ruler?"

She recognized this. It was a test. Her father liked to present her with questions like these. Challenges. At least that was a good sign. After her stunt today, he hadn't given up on her.

She considered her words carefully. "This is the fourth coastal attack in three months. The first two were nearly two months apart. They are coming more frequently now. If I were ruling, I would first determine if there is any pattern to it. I would try to anticipate their next strike. Meanwhile, I would fortify the surrounding towns and villages. All four were under-defended, making them ideal targets. That must change. We must fight back. Cut off the head of a snake and the body will wither."

Her father smiled. "And the Drengr? How would you use your mightiest of warriors?"

"The Drengr can mobilize more quickly. I would increase the frequency and number of coastal patrols, but I would not permanently station them among any of the towns and villages, as the writer of this letter suggests."

"Why not?"

"It's too dangerous—spreading them thin. That's how we lost so many before."

Nearly fifty years ago, the kingdom had seen similar raids. The Drengr attempted to stop them, and many lives were lost.

"And what of the pirate weapons?" asked her father. "Spear-ships are dangerous. The dragonlances on a single ship can take out an entire fighting wing, twenty strong."

Lena sighed. Human strategies were easy. Drengr strategies? Not so much. "There are always losses in battle, Papa. Our Drengr must be stronger, smarter, and faster. If we do not use them in battle, then what good are they?" She paused for a moment to think. "The magic of the pirate ships might make them immune to fire, but what about weight? Dragons can lift massive objects." She fell quiet. "What if...what if we drop giant boulders on them or something, crushing their ships?"

"Ha!" Her father roared with laughter until tears dripped from his eyes. She couldn't help but smile too. When he calmed down, his eyes were twinkling. "My dearest Lena, it is easy to see why you are so good at practical jokes. Your head is ever full of ideas! If the ships cannot be burned, you simply find another way to destroy them. We Drengr can lift immense weights, after all."

"Why do you think I suggested it?" She beamed back at him, basking in his praise. "Do you actually think it's a good idea?"

"I think it ought to be considered, amongst other options. Now, where do you recommend that we find these huge boulders heavy enough to break ships in half?"

She allowed a giggle to slip from her lips. "I suppose it does sound rather outlandish when you word it that way. But—" She shrugged. "At least it is better than doing nothing."

"And that is why you would make a grand queen. Only foolish rulers sit back and do nothing. The best rulers are those who use what they can and make the most of it." Her father had a way of making her feel big and important. "Now, this business of our guests—"

She groaned loudly, sinking down in her chair.

His eyes went unfocused. He paused before adding, "Your mother wishes to tell you that you are not being ladylike when you groan and complain like that."

"Well, you can tell Mother, that I do not wish to be a lady." He did not answer. "I suppose this is the part where you lay out all rules I must follow?"

"Aye. I am a great layer of rules." His eyes twinkled.

"Don't I know it!"

King Cornan's tone turned professional again. "I asked each of our forts to send every mateless Drengr they have. It turns out there are twenty-seven and they have all come."

"Of course they have. Who would pass up the opportunity to be king?"

"Lena! Why must you take it so negatively? Finding his mate is a young Drengr's chief desire." She snorted but he ignored it. "Over the next two weeks, I expect you to learn all of their names."

"What?! Papa, you know how bad I am with names."

"Be that as it may, I expect it. And that's not all. Over the next two weeks, you will schedule time with all twenty-seven."

"What?" she choked. "No! Father, that's hardly fair! What am I supposed to do with them? Sit and talk about the weather?"

"Gods, Lena! You've got a creative mind. Can you think of nothing?" She opened her mouth but he kept going. "Go horseback riding. Take a trip to the market. Have a walk. Visit the dockyards. Enjoy a picnic. Ask one of them to give you an archery lesson. Must I spell it out?"

"Wait—" Her brow furrowed. "Did you say archery lesson? You mean...I don't have to wait until the two weeks are up?"

"Not if it constitutes quality time spent with your guests."

"Oh..." Perhaps this wouldn't be so bad. "So I must be a gracious host, learn their names, and spend all of my time with them? Anything else?"

He shrugged. "The rest is up to you."

She nodded before falling silent. "What's the point of all this anyway? Seems a bit excessive. Why not get straight to the ceremony part? Everyone knows that the existence of a bond is entirely up to fate."

"Fate or not, we will be gracious hosts. These Drengr have come all this way for you, Lena. Show them that you appreciate the effort they are making. Perhaps you might grow fond of one of them, or perhaps one of them might grow fond of you. Maybe fate will see that."

She doubted that very much. "All right, Father, we will see."

"I am being serious, Lena. You have a chance here. Give this an honest effort."

"You really think one of them is meant for me? What if I don't like the one fate chooses?"

"I know with certainty that if a bond exists, you will forget your hatred over the mate idea. Your heart will rejoice. Ask your mother."

"What do you mean? Is that what happened to Mama?"

His eyes unfocused. "Your mother said she would rather tell you the story from her perspective—that I'll get it wrong."

"Yeah, right! You're in each other's heads all the time."

He smirked. "That's exactly what I told her. Now, our welcoming feast will begin at sunset. Your mother took great pride in having a slew of gowns made for you." He paused, his eyes going unfocused again. "Twenty, my dear? I do hope you did not drain the coffers." He said this aloud for Lena's benefit before turning back to her. "Now, run along and make your mother happy."

"Yes, Father." She stood and gave him a quick peck on the forehead before rushing off. Something about his confidence bolstered hers. He was a man to be trusted, after all. And if he was right, if she had a chance at influencing fate and finding a mate, perhaps she could indeed become queen. That meant she had better look her best tonight, and she certainly intended to. 

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