Page 45 of Cursed with the Dragon Prince

He’s afraid. Afraid of being like his father, his grandfather. That the generations of males before him have paved an inescapable path of destruction. It’s not a trait unique to the dragon fae. I have seen a similar fear from men before—a fear that if they can’t rage to take up space, they’ll mean nothing at all.

When facing such fear, I’ve always backed down. Maybe it’s because I was smaller then, maybe it’s because I care for him, but today, I don’t shy away.

I spout my wings, completely blocking his way

He huffs. If I’m wrong, if things escalate, I brace myself, reading to let him go.

“You’re not a monster,” I say. “I’m sorry that your clan taught you that your words have no value. That a decision of your youth—one encouraged by your father—should stain your future.”

“What if they’re right?” he shouts. “What if my bloodline is my destiny? What if I cannot be different?”

“You are not bound to your history.” My hand drifts to the scales on my neck, the deviation that was my curse. “Just as I’m not who my family said I was. We can shape our own destinies, turning curses into blessings.”

“Blessings?” he asks.

I nod. My throat tightens as I stumble through the idea. “And maybe it’s not always possible. We can’t force positivity onto every misfortune. But sometimes… we just need to look at a situation differently.”

I remember how my nieces admired my dragon form, like my presence was the deliverance they hungered for. Thinking of them, the barriers between us… grief strikes me anew.

“I’m not saying it’s easy,” I admit. “But maybe we can learn to find the good with practice.”

His muscles are still taut, and I worry my words have glanced off him. Did I become so focused on my journey that I lost track of where it ran parallel to his?

“What does this have to do with anything?” he asks.

“Maybe your bloodline hasn’t cursed you—maybe it gave you the perspective to overcome it.”

He’s quiet now. I’m not sure he accepts my logic, but he’s calming, the red shifting back to gold. Taking half a step back, I invite fresh air between us.

I’m not cursed. I test out the words, fingertips brushing my oldest scales. Are they smoother than I remember, or have I changed? Tracing a heart in the hollow at the base of my neck, I practice loving what I was taught to hate.

I feel…light.

Drakon’s eyes are rapt upon me, watching me do this silly thing. Embarrassed, I drop my hand, but he catches my palm, clutching it between both of his.

Lifting my fingers to his lips, he tenderly kisses them. “Thank you,” he whispers, not quite meeting my gaze.

Cupping his chin in my other hand, I push it up, encouraging him to look at me. When our eyes meet, I find the redness has faded, and the golden rim to his hazel eyes returned.

“Promise me one thing,” I ask.

“What?”

“Never be afraid to speak to me. I want to hear you. Your doubts and fears. Your ambitions and dreams. I want to know you, to learn it all.”

He swallows. “I… I’ll have to learn.”

“I’ll be learning with you.”

My whole day brightens when the corners of his lips turn upward, and he says, “Then we will figure it out together.”

Part Three: Claim

Awakening

Drakon

I stir, the predawn light illuminating Reina’s naked body. She’s awake, her eyes wide and thoughtful. She has something to say, but for now, she lets me hold her, caress her. In the silence, I study her, memorizing the placement of every scale. Nuzzling her braids, I take deep breaths, mingling memory with her scent. I’ve spent the whole night trying to learn her—and it still hasn’t been enough.

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