Page 36 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince

With no more time for fear, I leap from the lava tunnel, open my wings, and launch myself into the air. My wings erupt at my command, finding purchase upon the air. Aiming for the caldera’s center, I give my next command.Dragon,I need you.

She rises, and I blossom. Like a flower, I expand, exchanging soft skin for scaly armor. I become her, growing her fire in my chest, a power I still don’t know how to wield.

Drakon was supposed to teach me fire breathing today, until our change of plan, but it is not a necessary skill for this rite.

Confident my body will survive unscathed, I dive. Wisp rejoices as I submerge into her mantle, and behind my shut eyes, I see a glimpse of fireflies.

As I pass the surface, my body ripples as I claim my new form. I pass the rite.

Now the molten earth churns about me, heat blistering. My scales protect me, and I am not burned.

For a moment, I float, luxuriating in this victory.

Surrendering, my wrath fades, and Wisp’s fiery desires seem less controlling, more promising. It is comforting, not hating her for making me this way, embracing the strength her wishes gave me.

Despising my circumstances, I love what I am. The contradiction settles, comfortable when I no longer resist.

I cannot linger, and too soon, I rise. Reaching for the surface, I flap my wings. Only the magma is too thick, and it presses me, weighing me down. I become stuck, submerged, my wingbeats too weak for me to rise.

Terror streaks through me anew, and I scramble, beating my wings frantically, spraying magma. The mantle swells under me, a bubble forming, granting me a lift. Wisp presses me upward, urging me farewell.

It works. My wings catch, and I fly up and out, escaping the mantle. With my building momentum, the last of the molten earth drips from my scales. I rush toward the tunnel Drakon and I entered through—but something is wrong.

Glancing at the darkened crevice, I discover Drakon is gone. There’s a ruckus raging above me. Looking up, I see both Drakon and Scorpia in their red dragon forms.

They gnash and tear into each other, and while he’s bigger and stronger, he’s also holding back, keeping his rage in check.Scorpia breathes vicious fire while he refrains. He’s not fighting to win, not against his aunt.

Scorpia’s followers stand on the caldera’s edge, still in their fae form, allowing the dragons to duel.

I rush upward, but they’re blocking me in, making it impossible to rise past the volcano’s mouth. Upon my approach, the duel pauses, Drakon and Scorpia circling one another. I steady myself upon the air, looking for a way to escape.

“Run,” Drakon commands me. “I’ll distract her. Go to the nest!”

“Don’t let her escape!” Scorpia shouts to her followers. “I will deal with my nephew.”

I do not want to leave Drakon. Once again, Scorpia blocks my path. If not for her obstruction, I would have performed this rite after more practice, with the clan supporting me, instead of hiding with Drakon. I’m eager to know my potential clan—to make decisions based upon experiences with the community—but again and again, she makes it difficult to do my duty.

Tension streaks through my body, and my dragon form contracts, a fire burning in my chest. My exhales become smoky, fiery with frustration.

“Let me pass!” I shout my command. “Scorpia, stop!”

“I will not,” she snarls at me, fire huffing from her nose. She’s restless, furious, and eager to charge Drakon.

I know Drakon is right—escape is a good plan.

But Scorpia’s resistance is irritating.

“Stop this,” I snarl at her again. “I don’twantto return to the humans!”

“But you must leave. If my Alinae had to die, then we deserve this curse. Leave and let us succumb.”

Alinae?I hadn’t heard her name yet. The last Blessed One, the one Scorpia loved.

At my hesitation, she laughs, a dry cackle. “Drakon still hasn’t confessed, has he?”

I glance at him, understanding his resistance to fight Scorpia in a new light. I have pieces when I need the full story—the way he submits to her is an omission of terrible guilt. “Can we please talk—”

“No. You shall not break our curse, and you must return to the human continent. The Isles of Fae are no place for a human.” Scorpia closes in on Drakon, addressing him. “My nephew, as my brother’s son and my father’s descendant, you have inherited their dragon’s rush and are not worthy of this decision. Reina must leave, and youmuststep aside.”

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