Page 7 of Elven Oath

Chapter 3

Aodhan

As we descend intothe courtyard, the familiar weight of the ground meets my claws, and I can feel the shift in the air around me.

The Elfkin below us scatter like leaves in the wind. Their wide, fearful eyes locked on us as though they were watching the approach of death itself. I’d grown used to this reaction over the years. The awe and terror we inspired in most creatures but it still grated on me.

The Elves and Dragons were not currently at war, yet here I was, a prince of the Dragonkin, and they cowered as if I had come to destroy them.

Maybe they were afraid that I’d breach the truce our two peoples had slowly put together. All bound together in the fate of a marriage.

It never occurred to me that perhaps one of both of us could refuse the marriage then the war would start all over again.

Falkor and Drago flank me as we land, their wings folding close to their bodies as we shift into our human forms.

The transformation was always disorienting for others to witness. One moment they’re looking at a massive dragon, the next, a man.

Reaching down, I untie the bag that is on my legs as my companions do the same and we dress quickly.

Looking up a few minutes later, I catch sight of the guards as they hesitate, their hands tightening on their spears. Their fear is palpable, but they hold their ground, stepping forward cautiously.

"Welcome," the captain of the guard finally manages, his voice steady but lacking its usual authority. "His Majesty awaits you in the main hall."

I exchange a glance with Falkor, who raises an eyebrow, clearly sensing the same unease I do. Drago, always the most perceptive of us, nods almost imperceptibly. There was something wrong here, something more than the usual tension between our peoples.

We were here for diplomacy, to fulfill the terms of an ancient agreement, yet the air crackled with unspoken anxiety.

We’re escorted through the castle a minute later, the elves’ eyes following us like shadows. The guards remain stiff, their gazes flicking between us and the stone walls, as if they expect an attack at any moment.

I keep my own senses sharp, listening, watching, my dragon instincts attuned to the unease that seems to infect this place.

By the time we reach the main hall, the tension has wound itself tight in my chest. The King is waiting for us, his posture rigid as we’re introduced.

His face is a mask of calm that doesn’t match the undercurrent of fear running through his people. I’m about to address him when the door to the hall suddenly bursts open.

A woman rushes in, breathless and disheveled. Her dress is stained with dirt, and twigs stuck in her hair like she has just run through a forest.

It takes me a moment to fully register her presence, and for a second, all I can do is stare. She is nothing like the polished courtiers who usually surround royal halls. Nothing like the prim and proper women of the Elfkin court that I’d heard of.

Her bright blue eyes blaze with life, vibrant and untamed. Despite the dirt on her face and the wild state of her appearance, she was beautiful. Stunning, even. I can’t seem to look away.

She doesn’t bow. Doesn’t even acknowledge the King in the way she should have. Instead, she marches right up to him, her chin held high, and takes her place at his side as if she has every right to stand beside the ruler of the Elfkin.

I watch, completely stunned. Who was this woman who dared such a breach of etiquette in front of her own King?

"Vevina," the King says, his voice tinged with frustration. "You’re not supposed to be here. Go clean yourself up."

She doesn’t argue even though I can clearly see in her eyes that she wants to. Instead, with a defiant look, one I almost admire, she turns on her heel and leaves the hall.

Leaving nothing but a trail of dirt behind her. As the door swings shut once again, I realize I still haven’t looked away.

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