Isla's POV
The carriage wheel hits a rock and throws me against the wall.
Pain explodes through my shoulder. I bite down hard on my lip to keep from crying out. Princesses don't complain about bumpy roads. Lady Helena made sure I understood that.
We've been traveling for three days. Three endless days of rattling over dirt roads, sleeping in uncomfortable inns, and pretending to be someone I'm not every single second.
The driver who thinks I'm Princess Celeste calls me "Your Highness" and bows whenever he opens the door. The guards riding alongside treat me like I'm made of glass and might break. A maid travels with usa nervous girl named Clara who keeps apologizing for everything.
"Are you alright, Your Highness?" Clara asks from the opposite seat. "Should I ask the driver to slow down?"
"I'm fine," I say in the bored, slightly annoyed tone Lady Helena drilled into me. Princess Celeste never admits weakness. Never shows gratitude. Never treats servants like real people.
It makes me sick pretending to be so cruel.
Clara nods and looks away quickly. She's terrified of me. Of the fake me.
I turn to stare out the window, watching trees blur past. We left the familiar southern lands behind yesterday. Now everything looks different rougher, wilder, colder.
And I haven't slept properly in days. Every time I close my eyes, I see Thomas collapsing in those guards' arms. Hear his terrible coughing. Feel the weight of the Queen's threat pressing down on my chest.
One mistake, and your brother dies.
The words repeat in my head like a nightmare I can't wake up from.
"Your Highness?" Clara's voice trembles. "We're entering the northern territories now. The driver says we should reach the border by nightfall tomorrow."
Tomorrow. One more day until I meet the Dragon King. One more day of being Isla Merrick before I disappear forever.
My fingers dig into the seat cushion. I force myself to breathe slowly. Panicking won't help Thomas. Falling apart won't keep him safe.
The temperature drops as we travel further north. I wrap a fur-lined cloak around my shoulders another thing that marks me as false royalty. Real Isla never owned anything this expensive.
By the fourth day, frost covers the ground even though it's still early autumn. The trees grow sparse and twisted. Mountains loom in the distance, their peaks hidden by dark clouds.
That's when I see it.
A shadow passes over the carriage. Not a bird shadow. Something much, much bigger.
The horses scream and rear up. The carriage jerks violently to one side. Clara shrieks and grabs my arm.
"What's happening?" I demand, trying to sound annoyed instead of terrified.
The driver yells something I can't understand. The guards shout orders at each other. The carriage tilts dangerously as the horses try to bolt.
I lean out the window and look up.
My heart stops.
A dragon soars overhead.
Not a story dragon. Not a fairy tale creature. A real, living, breathing dragon with scales the color of fire and wings that block out the sun.
It's massive bigger than the palace back home, bigger than anything that should be able to fly. Its tail whips through the air behind it like a serpent. Smoke curls from its nostrils.
"Get back inside!" a guard yells at me. "Don't let it see you!"
But I can't move. Can't breathe. Can't look away.
The dragon circles once more, so close I can see every individual scale, every razor-sharp claw. Then it shoots forward like an arrow and disappears over the mountains.
The horses finally calm down enough for the driver to control them. The carriage stops swaying. Clara releases my arm, leaving nail marks in my skin.
"Apologies, Your Highness," the head guard calls through the window. "Wild dragons sometimes patrol these borders. Nothing to worry about."
Nothing to worry about? NOTHING TO WORRY ABOUT?
I saw a monster the size of a building flying through the sky like it was normal. Like creatures that shouldn't exist are just everyday problems up here.
And I'm supposed to marry the king of these creatures.
I sink back against the seat, my whole body shaking. Clara stares at me with wide eyes.
"Are you alright, Your Highness? You look very pale."
"I said I'm fine," I snap, then immediately hate myself for it.
We travel in tense silence after that. Every shadow makes my heart race. Every bird call sounds like a roar. Every gust of wind feels like wing beats.
Dragons are real. Actually, truly real.
And I'm heading straight toward a kingdom full of them.
The fifth day brings snow. Just flurries at first, then heavier and heavier until everything turns white. The temperature plummets. Even wrapped in furs, I can't stop shivering.
Clara huddles in her corner, teeth chattering. The guards look miserable on their horses. But we don't stop. Can't stop. We're on a schedule.
By the sixth day, we're traveling through a winter wonderland that shouldn't exist this far south. Snow piles higher than the carriage wheels. Icicles hang from bare tree branches. My breath fogs in the air.
"How do people live here?" Clara whispers.
I don't answer. Can't admit that I'm wondering the same thing.
We pass through small villages where people stare at our royal carriage with suspicious eyes. Children point and whisper. Old women make warding signs with their fingers protection against evil magic.
They don't trust southerners here. Don't trust humans who come to marry their dragon king.
Smart people.
On the seventh morning, everything changes.
We crest a hill, and suddenly the northern mountains spread before us in all their terrible glory. Peaks that pierce the clouds. Valleys filled with snow and shadow. And carved into the largest mountain impossible but undeniable is a palace.
Not built on the mountain. Built INTO it. Towers and bridges and walls that look like they grew from the stone itself. Windows that glow with strange light despite the gray day. Waterfalls that flow upward instead of down.
And circling the palace, filling the sky, making the air itself vibrate with power
Dragons.
Hundreds of them.
Silver dragons and gold dragons and blue dragons and green dragons. Some as small as houses. Others as massive as the red one I saw days ago. They fly in patterns like birds, but with grace and intelligence that makes my skin prickle.
"We've arrived at Draconia, Your Highness," the driver announces, his voice tight with fear.
The carriage begins its descent toward the palace. With every turn of the wheels, we get closer to the castle carved from mountains. Closer to the dragons that could tear our carriage apart with one swipe of their claws.
Closer to the husband I've never met who will expect me to be someone I'm not.
Clara whimpers softly. I want to comfort her, tell her everything will be okay. But I can't promise that. Can't even promise it to myself.
The carriage passes through massive gates guarded by soldiers in armor that gleams like dragon scales. They watch us with eyes that might not be entirely human.
We enter a courtyard that shouldn't existtoo large to fit inside a mountain, too warm despite the snow falling everywhere else. Magic hums in the air, making my teeth ache.
"We've arrived at the palace entrance," the driver says unnecessarily.
Through the window, I see people gathering. Dozens of them, all dressed in clothes that look both elegant and dangerous. They're waiting for me. Waiting for their future queen.
Waiting for someone I'm not.
The carriage stops. My heart pounds so hard I think everyone must hear it.
A guard opens the door. "Your Highness? The King is waiting to meet you."
This is it. The moment I've been dreading for seven days. Seven days of travel and terror and trying not to think about what happens next.
I force my legs to move. Force myself to step out of the carriage with my head high and my back straight, exactly like Lady Helena taught me.
Cold air hits my face. Snow crunches under my feet.
And standing at the front of the welcoming party, watching me with eyes the color of storm clouds, is the Dragon King himself.
He's taller than I expected. Broader. His silver-white hair falls to his shoulders, and his face is all sharp angles and barely controlled power. He wears black armor decorated with scales that might be real dragon skin.
He looks exactly like the monster from nightmares.
But he also looks tired. And lonely. And something else I can't quite name.
Our eyes meet across the courtyard.
For one horrible second, I'm certain he knows. Certain he can see right through my disguise to the terrified servant girl underneath.
Then he steps forward, and I remember to breathe.
"Welcome to Draconia, Princess Celeste," his voice rumbles like distant thunder. "I am King Draeven Ashborne."
I curtsy exactly how Lady Helena drilled into me. "Thank you, Your Majesty. Your kingdom is magnificent."
The lie tastes like ash on my tongue.
Draeven moves closer, studying my face with unsettling intensity. His gray eyes seem to see everything every flaw, every fear, every desperate lie.
"You don't look quite like your portrait," he says quietly.
The world stops spinning.
My mind goes blank with panic.
He knows. He already knows I'm not Princess Celeste. Seven days of travel, seven days of preparation, and I've failed before even entering the palace.
Thomas is going to die because I couldn't fool the Dragon King for even five minutes.
Everyone stares at me, waiting for my response.
I open my mouth, praying that somethinganythingcomes
out that might save us both.