POV: Ravenna
I don't sleep.
Obviously. Because tomorrow is the Dragon's Choosing and my brain has decided that tonight is the perfect time to replay every single moment of Theron's hand in mine on an endless loop.
The warmth of his skin. The gentleness. The way it felt right in a way that makes me want to scream.
I lie there staring at the ceiling while Solace paces inside me like a caged animal. She's restless. Eager. She knows what tomorrow means.
I wish I didn't.
Finally, when the sky starts turning that awful grey that means dawn is coming, I give up. I throw off the covers and dress in simple clothes because I cannot stay in this room for one more second.
I walk through the quiet palace, my footsteps echoing on marble floors. And I don't know where I'm going until I'm standing in front of the memorial hall again.
In front of her.
My mother's portrait stares down at me with kind eyes and a peaceful smile. White hair like mine. Blue eyes like mine. Dead for twenty-one years because I had the audacity to be born.
"I'm afraid," I tell her. My voice sounds small and stupid in the empty hall. "Tomorrow I might bond with a man I barely know. I don't know if I'm making the right choice."
She doesn't answer. Obviously. Because she's PAINT.
I hear footsteps behind me and turn so fast I nearly trip.
Father stands in the doorway. He looks old. Tired. Shadows carved so deep beneath his eyes they look permanent.
"Are you well?" he asks quietly.
I almost laugh. "No. I'm terrified."
He walks over to stand beside me. We both stare at the portrait of the woman who destroyed us by dying. The silence stretches out, uncomfortable but not hostile.
"I haven't been a good father to you," he says finally. "I've been distant. Cold. I couldn't look at you without seeing what I lost." He pauses. "I'm sorry for that. It wasn't your fault that she died."
Tears prick my eyes. I blink them back furiously. "I've spent my entire life trying to be worthy of the mother I killed."
"You didn't kill her. Childbirth did. And she chose to use her healing gift to save you." He turns to look at me directly. "She wanted you to live. I dishonored her choice by making you feel guilty for surviving."
I can't speak. My throat has closed completely.
"I forced this competition on you because I was afraid," he says quietly. "Afraid of losing you the way I lost her. My fear made me controlling." A pause. "I'm asking for your forgiveness."
I could lie. But I'm so tired of performing.
"I don't forgive you yet," I say. "But maybe someday. I need time."
He nods. "That's fair." Then: "Have you decided? About tomorrow?"
"Solace already chose. She recognized Havoc from the beginning." I lift my chin. "I'm going to accept. I'll marry Theron if Solace chooses him publicly."
"Do you care for him?"
"I don't know yet. I respect him. I know being near him makes me feel less alone." I swallow hard. "Whether that's love or the bond or just the beginning of something, I can't say. But I'm willing to find out."
Father's expression softens. "Your mother and I started as a political alliance. Love came later. Built through choosing each other every day. The bond is foundation. Love is what you build on it."
He steps forward and kisses my forehead. He hasn't done that since I was FIVE.
"You're my daughter," he says quietly. "And I'm proud of you."
Then he leaves.
I stand there as the sun rises, painting everything gold. I look at my mother's portrait one last time and make a promise.
I won't waste the life you gave me. I'll be brave. I'll accept the bond. I'll try to build something real with Theron.
***
The morning passes in a blur. Nobles gathering. Candidates assembling. Morgana dresses me in white and silver, Mother's sapphire necklace at my throat.
I look like a bride. In some ways, I am.
Finally, midday arrives.
I walk into the arena with Father beside me.
The stands are PACKED. Every noble in Cindravale came to watch this apparently. Wonderful. Nothing like having your entire future decided in front of an audience.
The three remaining candidates stand in a line. Edmund. Lucien. Theron.
I take my place at the center and try not to vomit.
Veyron explains the ceremony in his gruff voice. Each candidate shifts. Solace approaches each one. If she recognizes a bond, she presses her forehead to his. If not, she moves on.
Simple. Straightforward. Completely TERRIFYING.
"Are you ready?" Father asks.
No. "Yes."
I shift.
The transformation flows through me and I become Solace—small silver-white dragon with golden stripes, bright blue eyes, delicate and fierce and so SMALL compared to everyone else. I stretch my wings. Feel the sun on my scales. Look at the three candidates waiting.
Edmund shifts first.
His dragon is brown and gold. Solid. Strong. Kind eyes. I approach him and study him and see his goodness, his honor. But there's no pull. No recognition. Nothing.
I bow my head respectfully and move on.
Edmund shifts back to human form. Nods acceptance. Steps aside with grace.
One down.
Lucien shifts next.
His dragon is light orange and fast and the SECOND I approach I feel wrong. This dragon is cold inside. Empty. Hollow where warmth should be.
I snarl—a sound I've never made before. I see the empty space where emotion should live. I reject him violently. Flames escape my jaws in warning.
His dragon backs away fast.
I turn from him with contempt.
The crowd gasps and murmurs. Two eliminated. Only one left.
Theron shifts into Havoc.
The massive red-black dragon fills the arena. Scarred and ancient and exhausted and GODS he's big. I go completely still because I feel it—the pull, immediate and absolute and overwhelming.
This is my mate. This is HOME. I've known from the first moment I sensed him three weeks ago.
I move forward like something outside me is pulling the strings. Havoc watches but doesn't move. He waits. Patient. Resigned. Like he's expecting rejection even NOW.
I reach him and press my forehead against his.
The contact is ELECTRIC.
I feel his soul touch mine. Feel the bond snap into place with devastating finality. Home. Ours. Together. The words aren't spoken but I know them. Havoc shudders. His eyes close. His forehead presses back against mine with desperate gentleness.
Yours. Always yours.
The crowd ERUPTS.
We stay pressed together—two dragons who finally found their match. The bond thrums between us, no longer possibility but reality.
I shift back to human form. Breathing hard. Shaking.
Theron shifts too. We stand facing each other across the arena. The crowd is roaring but I barely hear them. I see only his face—eyes bright with tears he's trying not to shed, expression devastated with relief and disbelief.
He survived. The bond held. For the first time in ten years, a bond HELD.
I cross the arena to him.
The crowd falls silent like someone cut the sound.
I stop directly in front of him and look up at his scarred face. At the hope and fear warring in his amber eyes. I take his hands in mine.
He grips them like I'm the only thing keeping him upright.
"Solace chose you," I tell him quietly. Just for him. "I accept. We'll make this work."
His breath catches. "Are you certain?"
"Terrified," I say honestly. "But certain."
"I'll spend the rest of my life being worthy of this," he says, voice rough and desperate. "Of you. Of the bond."
"You're already worthy," I tell him. And I mean it. "You just need to start believing it."
The crowd erupts again. Father comes forward and formally announces that the Dragon's Choosing is complete. Theron has been chosen. The wedding will happen within the month.
We stand there together, still holding hands, and for the first time since this nightmare competition began, I feel something like hope.
Maybe this will be okay. Maybe WE'LL be okay. Together.