Chapter CLXXI: The therian princess

Rya leaned against the stone wall near the old harem’s garden, her breath still unsteady, a sly smile playing on her lips. The soldier knelt before her, his face in between her legs, flushed with the remnants of his effort to please her, a mix of adoration and despair clouding his eyes.  

Rya, a royal princess, carried the weight of expectation wherever she went—elegance, decorum, and a reputation beyond reproach. But behind the gilded veil of propriety was a woman who burned with passion and a hunger for something more. She had discovered long ago that the best way to indulge her desires and keep the whispers at bay was to toy with her father’s knights.  

They were loyal, disciplined, and bound by fear—perfect candidates for her games. She delighted in breaking them, pushing them to shatter their vows with nothing more than a glance or a whispered promise. These men, sworn to her father, the Dragon King, trembled under her touch, knowing full well the price of betrayal. But still, they came to her, one by one, unable to resist.  

The soldier rose to his feet, his eyes filled with longing as he murmured, “I love you, Princess.”  

Rya chuckled softly, brushing her fingertips along his jawline. “I love you too,” she lied effortlessly, her tone honeyed yet distant. She kissed him, slow and teasing, tasting herself in his mouth, and then pulled away abruptly.  

“But this has to end,” she continued, her voice firm now. “If my father found out…” She didn’t need to finish. The threat hung heavy between them.  

The soldier’s face twisted with pain. “I’d die for you,” he said, the earnestness in his voice almost pathetic.  

Rya tilted her head, studying him. For a moment, she felt a flicker of pity, but it was quickly smothered by a wave of disinterest. “Don’t be foolish,” she said, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. “You’re a good man, but you’re better off forgetting this.”  

She kissed him one last time, a final act of indulgence, before stepping away. “We need to go before someone sees us,” she said, adjusting her dress. The soldier hesitated, his sorrowful gaze clinging to her.  

Rya sighed inwardly, noting the boyish vulnerability in his eyes. It made him seem small, weak—a stark contrast to the commanding strength she craved in these moments. Her desire flickered out, leaving only a faint sense of irritation.  

As he turned to leave, his shoulders hunched, Rya watched him go, her lips curling into a faint smirk. This was how it always ended: with them broken and her heart untouched, unbothered, ready for the next conquest.

***

The grand gates of the palace swung open, revealing the Therian delegation as they rode into the courtyard with all the splendor their station demanded. The banners of Theran, golden and deep blue, fluttered in the wind, and the sound of hooves echoed against the palace walls.

At the head of the delegation rode Lord Vantemo, the wealthiest and most powerful lord in all of Theran, flanked by his noble entourage. His presence alone was imposing, but what truly drew every eye was the woman riding at his side. Princess Alina, his eldest daughter, who was nothing short of breathtaking.  

Her beauty was the subject of whispers that spread like wildfire among the courtiers even before her arrival. Now, as she dismounted gracefully from her steed, the murmurs intensified. She was radiant, with long, lustrous chestnut hair that cascaded down her back, olive skin glowing in the sunlight, and honey-brown eyes that seemed to hold both warmth and mystery. It was said that her beauty rivaled that of Princess Rya, whose allure was already legendary around the kingdom. Comparisons sprang up in hushed tones, though no one dared voice them too loudly.  

Alina's presence was not merely ornamental, however. She was here with a purpose—a carefully calculated move orchestrated by her father. Lord Vantemo had grand ambitions, and his daughter was his finest pawn. Her dowry, rumored to be the largest in Therian history, reflected his wealth and power. But her beauty and charm were the tools he intended to use to secure a match that would elevate his name to untouchable heights.  

Lord Vantemo was determined to marry his daughter off to the future Dragon King, Crown Prince Ikkar. As Alina approached the royal family with a serene smile, her eyes briefly met Ikkar's.  

He stood tall, the image of a perfect prince—stoic, composed, yet undeniably magnetic. But while Alina’s gaze lingered with curiosity and intention, Ikkar’s remained distant, almost cold. He offered her the barest of polite nods, his thoughts guarded behind an expression that revealed nothing.

Ikkar strolled around the gardens with Princess Alina, their steps light against the cobblestone paths but weighed down by an awkward silence. The chirping of birds and the faint rustle of leaves filled the void between them, neither able to bridge the gap of language nor the distance between their hearts. Ikkar, ever the gentleman, walked beside her with measured politeness, but his lack of interest was evident.  

Alina, graceful and sweet as she was, could sense his discomfort. She tried to tell herself it wasn’t personal, that maybe he was just tired or preoccupied, but doubt crept in. Was she not pretty enough? Not interesting enough? She had dreamed of this moment since she was a little girl—the chance to become a queen. She had imagined walking beside the prince in the garden just like this, but never had she imagined feeling so invisible to him.  

Ikkar, for his part, struggled to even pretend. As beautiful as Alina was, she wasn’t *her*. Talia’s image lingered in his mind, unshakable, a ghost haunting every interaction. It made this moment, this attempt at courtship, feel utterly wrong.  

They eventually reached the courtyard where the royal dragons were being fed, their majestic forms lazily stretching under the sun. Alina’s eyes lit up at the sight, and she broke the silence. “What is it like to ride a dragon?” she asked with a heavy accent.  

Ikkar didn’t answer right away. His gaze had wandered, drawn to a far corner of the courtyard where Princess Amara toddled near the smaller dragons, holding tightly to Talia’s hand. The sight of Talia, so gentle and radiant even in the simplest of moments, tugged painfully at his heart.  

Alina, sensing his distraction but too polite to call it out, asked again with a gracious smile. “Your Highness?”  

Ikkar blinked and turned back to her, apologizing softly. “Forgive me, I was... distracted,” he said, then answered her question. “It’s incredible. To fly on a dragon, to see the world from above, is…” He searched for the words, then gave up and simply said, “Amazing.”  

Alina smiled, her heart lifting slightly at his response. But the moment didn’t last. His gaze drifted again—back to Talia—and this time, Alina followed it. Her smile faltered.  

Ikkar took a deep breath, summoning courage. In broken Therian, he said, “Princess Alina, I know why you are here. Our parents… There’s an expectation, they want this union.”  

She looked at him expectantly, but there was a shadow of fear in her eyes. “Yes, Your Highness.”  

Ikkar hesitated, his throat tightening. “You are beautiful. Graceful. Any man would be lucky just for the honor to court you. But…” He trailed off, his voice lowering.

Alina’s face fell, though she tried to hide it. “Have I done something wrong?” she asked softly.  

“No. Of course not,” Ikkar said quickly. “You have done nothing wrong. You are… Perfect. But my heart belongs to another. It is not fair to you.”  

Alina nodded stiffly, her composure cracking only slightly. “I understand,” she said, her voice brittle. She offered a polite smile, then excused herself. “I must meet with the queen for tea. Excuse me.”  

She walked away, her steps brisk but graceful, until she was out of sight. Then, in the solitude of a quiet hallway, she broke down. Tears spilled from her eyes as the weight of rejection crashed down on her. Her dream of marrying the Dragon Prince, of becoming queen, was shattered.  

A voice behind her interrupted her thoughts. “Are you alright?”  

Startled, she turned and saw Prince Zayr standing there, his expression concerned. She quickly wiped her tears, straightening her posture. “I’m fine,” she said, though her voice betrayed her.  

Zayr didn’t believe her for a second. “You don’t look fine.”  

Alina hesitated, unsure if she should speak, but the kindness in his eyes encouraged her. “It’s nothing, Your Highness,” she said softly, her composure beginning to crack again.  

“Please,” Zayr said gently, stepping closer. “Tell me what happened.”