POV: Ravenna
The wine dripped down the wall.
Red drops sliding through grey stone like tears. Like blood. Like everything wrong in my life made liquid and visible.
I stared at it. At the broken glass glittering on the floor. At Father's face—still, calm, completely unsurprised.
"Feel better?" he asked quietly.
"NO!" The word exploded out of me. "No I don't feel better! I feel—I feel—"
I couldn't finish. Couldn't find words big enough for the rage and fear and hurt all tangled up in my chest.
"Ravenna—"
"Get OUT!" I screamed it. Stamped my foot again like I was five years old now. "Get out get out GET OUT!"
He looked at me for one more long moment. Then nodded once.
"Three weeks," he said.
And left. The door closed behind him with a soft click that was somehow louder than any slam.
I stood there, shaking, staring at that closed door and feeling like the floor had disappeared beneath me.
"Rav—" Morgana started.
"Don't." My voice cracked. "Don't 'Rav' me right now."
She stood anyway. Crossed to me carefully, like I was a wild animal that might bolt. "Love, you need to breathe—"
"I don't WANT to breathe! I want—" Another sob choked me. "I want him to take it back. I want him to—to—"
"To what?" The voice came from the doorway. Saren. Of course Saren. Standing there in his guard uniform, trying to look professional while his sea-green eyes held nothing but concern. "To let you stay a princess forever? No responsibilities, no marriage, just you and your dragon and your perfect little life?"
"Yes!" I whirled on him. "YES, exactly that! What's wrong with that?"
"Nothing, Princess." He stepped inside, closed the door. "Except it's not real."
"You don't know anything—"
"I know you're twenty-one years old and having a tantrum like you're six." His voice stayed gentle despite the words. "I know your father just told you something you didn't want to hear and instead of talking about it, you threw a glass."
"He wants me to marry someone!"
"Yeah. That's generally what happens when you're a princess." He exchanged a glance with Morgana. "Rav, this isn't exactly surprising—"
"It's MY BIRTHDAY!" I was shrieking again. Couldn't seem to speak at normal volume anymore. "He ruined my birthday to tell me he's—he's selling me off like—like livestock!"
"That's not what he's doing," Morgana said.
"YES IT IS!"
"No, love, he's doing what kings do. Securing alliances, ensuring succession, protecting—"
"I don't care about alliances! I don't care about succession! I care about—" My voice broke completely. "I care about not being forced to marry some stranger who'll probably hate me anyway because who wouldn't hate someone as—as—"
"Hey." Saren was there suddenly. Right there, hands on my shoulders. "Nobody hates you, yeah?"
"Father does."
"He absolutely does not—"
"He thinks I'm weak!" The tears were streaming now. Ugly crying in front of both of my best friends and I didn't even care. "He thinks Solace is weak! He said—he said she's the smallest dragon in the kingdom like—like that makes us less—"
"Rav." Morgana's arms came around me from behind. "He's scared, not disappointed. There's a difference."
"I don't see one!"
"That's because you're not thinking, you're just feeling." Her voice was soft. Too soft. Made me want to cry harder. "And that's okay. Feel it. But then we need to talk about—"
"No." I pulled away from both of them. "No, I don't want to talk. I don't want to feel. I want—"
I want to fly. The thought came clear and certain through the chaos in my head.
I needed air. Space. Sky. Needed to be anywhere but here with them looking at me like I was breaking and maybe I was but I couldn't do it in front of them—
"I need to be alone," I said.
"Rav, that's not a good idea—"
I was already moving. Past them, through the dining hall, out onto the balcony that overlooked the palace grounds far, far below.
"Ravenna!" Morgana's voice sharp with alarm. "What are you—"
I climbed onto the railing.
"RAVENNA!"
"I'll be back!" I called over my shoulder. And jumped.
For one perfect, terrible second, I was falling.
Wind screaming past my ears. Ground rushing up. The palace lights blurring into streams of gold.
Then—
The shift hit like lightning through my veins. Hot and sharp and mine.
My body exploded into something else. Something bigger. Wings erupted from my back, skin hardened to scales, and suddenly I wasn't falling—
I was flying.
Hello, little one, Solace's voice curled warm through my mind. Running away again?
"I'm not running," I said aloud, though it came out as a dragon's rumble. "I'm... going for a flight."
Of course. My mistake.
I could feel her amusement. Her affection. And gods, I needed that right now. Needed her.
I banked left, catching an updraft, and Cindravale spread out beneath me.
Home. My kingdom. Though technically it was Father's kingdom still, but one day it would be mine and—
No. Thinking about that meant thinking about the competition and the marriage and I refused.
I climbed higher instead. Let the wind tear away my thoughts.
Cindravale at night was beautiful. I'd never admit it out loud—admitting you loved something gave people power over you—but here, alone with Solace, I could think it.
The palace sat at the kingdom's heart, built into and around the dormant volcano that had given Cindravale its name. "Born from ash," Father always said. Born from fire and stone and dragon-breath.
The city spiraled out from the palace in rings of light. Homes and shops and forges—always forges in a kingdom of fire-dragons. Even this high up I could smell the smoke.
Beyond the city, farmland stretched dark. Then mountains. Then the borders that separated us from our neighbors.
Aetherwyn to the west—the Water Kingdom, where Mother had been born. Where blue dragons swam through seas instead of flying through sky. I'd been there exactly once, for Mother's funeral.
Pyrstone to the east—the Earth Kingdom. Mountains and caves and brown dragons who apparently thought themselves superior because they could tunnel through solid rock. Father called them "difficult neighbors" which I was pretty sure meant he didn't like them very much.
And Skyreach to the north—the Air Kingdom. White dragons on floating stones and wind-swept peaks. I'd never been there. Never even met anyone from there. They kept to themselves, up in their clouds, probably thinking they were better than everyone else because they could fly highest.
Four kingdoms. Four elements. Fire, Water, Earth, Air.
And I was half Fire and half Water. Born in Cindravale, raised in its palace, have the smallest and the rarest white dragon, even if she was—
I can hear you, Solace said dryly.
"I didn't mean—"
You think I don't know I'm the smallest dragon in this kingdom? Her tone was amused, not hurt. I've known since I emerged, little one. Everyone knows.
"I hate that they know."
Because you're ashamed.
"I'm NOT—"
You are. Gentle. So gentle it hurt. You're ashamed because you think my size reflects on you. That if I'm small, it means you're not strong enough to have manifested something bigger.
I didn't answer. Couldn't. She was right.
Gods, she was right and I'd never said it out loud but I'd thought it a thousand thousand times since the day she'd emerged.
I'd been twelve. Fallen from the ramparts—jumped, actually, because I was showing off and stupid and thought I was invincible.
And Solace had burst forth to save me. My beautiful, perfect, tiny dragon.
Everyone had stared. The whole court watching as I shifted for the first time and produced the smallest dragon anyone had seen in generations.
I'd felt Father's disappointment like a physical weight.
You're not weak, Solace said now. And neither am I. We're just... different.
"Different is the same as weak here."
Then here is wrong.
I wanted to believe her. Wanted to believe that size didn't matter, that we were perfect as we were, that Father was wrong to look at me and see inadequacy.
But I'd seen his face tonight. Heard his words.
Your dragon is the smallest in the kingdom.
Like it explained everything. Like it justified forcing me into marriage with a stranger.
I flew lower, following the curve of the volcano-palace. My chambers were on the south side, balcony jutting out over nothing.
Morgana and Saren would still be there. Probably panicking. Probably thinking I'd done something dramatic and stupid.
Which, to be fair, I had.
We should go back, Solace said.
"I know."
They're worried about you.
"I know that too."
And you're still not ready.
"No." I circled one more time. Let the wind cool my face, my rage. Let the flight empty my head of everything but motion and sky. "But I will be."
When?
"When I figure out how to make this all go away."
Solace hummed. It felt like doubt.
I ignored her. Aimed for my balcony.
The landing was graceful—I'd practiced enough times, sneaking out at night when Father thought I was sleeping. My claws caught stone, wings folded, and I shifted back to human in a rush of heat and light.
I stood there on my balcony in my birthday dress, hair wild from the wind, face probably still splotchy from crying.
Through the glass doors I could see my chambers. Empty now. Morgana and Saren must have left. Good. I needed to think, to plan. Because Father said the competition was happening. Said I had to choose a husband.
But he'd never said I had to choose one who'd actually want to marry me. An idea flickered to life in my mind. Small and sharp and cruel.
I smiled. If Father wanted me to participate in his competition, fine.
I'd participate. I'd just make sure that by the end of it, every single candidate would be begging to leave.