Page 4 of Dragon Chosen
“His lordship is a fat fool as well,” the second man said. That drew me closer. I walked close to the wall, as if hoping that would mask my presence. “Thinking he can buy his daughter a fine husband. The best she can hope for is being ridden enough times to get a few brats on her, then leave her to whatever banal pursuits occupy her here.” He sucked in a breath. “Then it's back to the far prettier arms of my mistress.”
They all chuckled then, that low, jovial thing men did when amused by things no woman would understand. But I wanted to. I had no way of framing what they were saying, the agony of it shoved down deep to be digested later. The characters in my books, they faced great cruelties, but never such small, unworthy ones. An attempt on my life I could’ve dealt with. Some labyrinthine scheme to kidnap and then ransom me back to my father, I’d read about that a million times. But this? I drew closer, finally looking around the corner to see who was speaking.
“Still with Jessie?” I knew the first man. He was the lord of Payneham’s third son. Usually he would’ve been sent to become a dragon rider, but I was beginning to understand why no beast would bond with him. That sharp grin, that knowing look, was enough for me. I’d never want to see inside his head. “She’s a feral little thing. Always gagging for cock.”
“We had quite the time with her some moons ago, didn’t we, Payneham?”
The third man was no lordling. Mr Ferris’ father was one of the most affluent merchants in the capital, Wyrmpeak. There had been a lot of chatter about someone who lacked noble blood buying up the estates of impoverished lords, but everyone seemed to have accepted the reality.
“Not anymore.” The second man looked grim then, and I soaked up his bad mood like a fresh cup of tea. He scowled at the two of them, his lips thinning under his neatly manicured beard. The blond man, the one who had stared up at my window, he was the one calling me a… I couldn’t even bring myself to finish that thought. “Jessie is mine entirely and when I get my own estate, paid for by the little piggy’s dowry?—”
Whatever he had planned, he didn’t get to finish telling his friends about it.
“Fern?” I turned around to see Father standing there. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. I know it's natural to be nervous?—”
I’d been nervous plenty of times before. Growing up under my mother’s tyrannical rule, it was one of the few things that kept me from continuing to make the same mistake over and over, displeasing her further. That’s not what I felt right now. My heart was racing again, but in response to a very real fear. Marry one of them? Bear them sons while they shrank back in disgust? Watch them walk out the door with a smirk, knowing they were going to spend the night in another’s arms, not mine?
“No…” I said, shaking my head far more violently than I had when I saw the dress. “No.”
“Now, now, Fernie…” Father said, opening his arms wide as he used his best ‘be reasonable’ tone.
“No!”
Because as I looked over my shoulder, I saw all of them staring. Payneham had the good grace to look stricken, but no doubt that was because he’d failed at what his father had told him to do. The merchant’s son shook his head, smiling faintly, but the bearded man? He grinned in the same way I’d seen some of the young lads do on the estate, when they had a wild kitten bailed up, right before I intervened. It was spitting, trying its best to look big and keep them away, right as they moved closer.
“What the hell are you doing?” Mother rounded the corner, trying to maintain her social smile, all while hissing at me. “And what on earth are you doing in that old rag? Do you want to find a husband or not?”
“No.”
I said that far more calmly. My stomach felt hollow and full of acid, my legs weak, and yet my mind had never been clearer. Whether this was the usual way of things or just because of some failing in me, I knew I didn’t want this life. No husband, no children, if it meant avoiding being trapped in a loveless, terrible business transaction.
“No,” I told my mother, staring down at her, because that word could be applied to so many of the things she asked of me. “No, I don’t?—”
“You don’t have a choice.”
Her hand shot out, gripping mine like iron as she went to drag me forward. Screaming, if that’s what it took, her tone making that clear. It was then I realised something. She spoke about how desirable it was to be as small as possible, as if taking up space was a sin only women could commit, and I think Iknew why. When I planted my feet, she was jerked back, unable to move me. A glare that was supposed to cow me did nothing for once.
“You must?—”
“Go,” I finished for her, wrenching my arm free and then walking towards the back door.
I didn’t run often. Mother always said it was unladylike, and perhaps it was. Right then I started to jog, then sprint, going faster and faster as I left the house. Past the kitchen garden, weaving between the clotheslines, hidden by the snapping sheets hung out to dry as I was ordered back. Beyond the stables, the fields, my heart pounding now, but not from fear.
“FERN!”
I turned for a second, seeing both my parents and my sister standing there. The sun shone brightly behind them, making their expressions hard to read. Father waved me over, but I just shook my head, then turned and ran straight into the forest.
Chapter 3
Auren
I was having a nice little doze in a clearing in a wood; the sun warming my scales, when I heard something come crashing through the undergrowth. My head jerked up, flames trickling from my muzzle as I stared into the forest. A juicy stag, or perhaps a stray sheep that had gotten lost? That would make for a perfect meal. I rose to my feet, ruffling my wings to dislodge any leaves that might have fallen on me during my sleep, only to discover I would not be able to satisfy the rumble in my stomach.
A young human came stumbling through the trees. She looked quite a mess. I mean, I don’t think humans are in the practise of splattering themselves with mud for fun, though their ways are somewhat incomprehensible. For example, the female, I noted her secondary sexual characteristics, just stood there, muzzle gaping. No greeting, no bow to acknowledge my presence. Instead, her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water.
Are you well, human?I asked, and sure enough, I felt a connection snap into place. Some humans were as dense as rocks, and completely unable to communicate in a civilised way.
“Um… yes.” She shook her head. “No. I mean?—”
