Lyra's POV
My feet won't move.
I'm standing at the door to the throne room—or wedding hall, or whatever dragons call the place where they trap humans forever—and I can't make my legs work.
"Miss Lyra, you must go," says Elena, the maid who dressed me. Her hands shake as she pushes my back softly. "The King is waiting."
The King. My husband. The dragon who just called me by my real name in front of everyone.
He knows I'm a fake.
And I'm about to marry him anyway.
Through the huge doorway, I see the aisle. It's made of black glass so shiny I can see my image, and underneath it, actual lava flows like a river of liquid fire. Orange and red flames dance beneath my feet, and heat rises up in waves that make my fancy dress stick to my skin.
This is crazy. This is absolutely crazy.
But Papa's face pops in my mind—Papa locked in a cell, waiting to see if his daughter is brave enough to save him. And my feet finally move.
One step. Two steps. Three.
The throne room is packed with dragons in human form. Hundreds of them. They line both sides of the aisle, watching me with eyes that glow—gold, silver, red, green. Some speak to each other. Some just stare like I'm a bug they want to squash.
I keep my chin up like the teachers taught me. "Walk like you own the ground beneath your feet," they said. Except I don't own anything, and the ground beneath my feet is actually on fire.
At the end of the aisle, standing in front of a throne that looks cut from a volcano, is King Kael.
My heart forgets how to beat.
He's the most beautiful and frightening person I've ever seen. Tall—so tall I'd have to crane my neck to look at his face. Dark hair that's almost black, with streaks of silver going through it like lightning. And his eyes... his eyes are pure molten gold, burning like the lava under my feet.
He's wearing black armor that seems to absorb light, with red patterns that look like flames frozen in metal. A cap of dark crystal sits on his head, with points sharp enough to cut.
He looks like every scary story Papa ever read me about dragon kings. Powerful. Ancient. Deadly.
And I'm going to marry him.
His golden eyes lock onto mine as I walk, and I feel like he's seeing straight through my skin into my lying, frightened heart. Can he tell I'm about to throw up? Can he smell my fear?
Probably. He's a dragon. They can probably smell everything.
Halfway down the hall, my foot catches on my dress and I stumble. Gasps echo through the room. Someone laughs—a mean sound that makes my face burn with shame.
But I don't fall. I catch myself and keep walking, even though my cheeks feel like they're on fire.
Finally, I reach the end. King Kael looms over me, his face carved from stone. No smile. No warmth. Nothing but cold, burning anger in those gold eyes.
"Princess," he says, and the way he says it makes the word sound like an insult.
I curtsy like the teachers taught me, nearly falling again. "Your Majesty."
A woman steps forward—tall and beautiful with copper-colored hair that seems to glow. Lady Seraphine, I remember from the papers. The phoenix mother. She's holding a golden bowl filled with fire.
Real fire. Just floating in the bowl like water.
"We gather to bind two souls," Seraphine says, her voice echoing off the crystal walls. "Dragon and person. Fire and skin. Let the old ceremony begin."
She says words in a language I don't understand—all harsh sounds and rolling syllables that make my bones tremble. The dragons around us start humming, a low sound that feels like thunder in my chest.
"Your hand," Kael says coldly.
I lift my right hand. It's shaking so badly I look like I'm waving.
He takes it, and I gasp.
His skin burns. Not painful, but hot—really hot, like feeling a cup of tea that's too fresh. But it doesn't hurt. It tingles, sending sparks up my arm that make my whole body feel weird and electric.
Kael's eyes widen slightly. The first emotion I've seen on his face.
"You should be burning," he says softly, only for me.
"I—what?"
But Seraphine is putting her fingers in the fire bowl and painting symbols on our joined hands. The fire should hurt, but it doesn't. It feels... warm. Safe. Like coming home.
What's wrong with me?
"Speak the vows," Seraphine orders.
Kael's jaw tightens. "I, Kael Drakemoor, King of Emberfell and Lord of the Dragon Houses, take you as my mate and queen. My fire is your fire. My country is your kingdom. My life is bound to yours until the stars go dark."
His voice is deep and rough, like rocks grinding together. He sounds like he's delivering a death sentence instead of wedding vows.
Now everyone's looking at me.
"I..." My voice comes out as a squeak. I clear my throat and try again. "I, Lyra—" I stop.
Do I say Lyra Everhart? Or lie and say Rosalie Hartwood?
The silence stretches. Dragons move forward. Kael's hand tightens on mine.
"I," I start again, "take you as my husband and king. Your fire is my fire. Your kingdom is my kingdom. My life is bound to yours until the stars go dark."
I don't say my name at all. Maybe that makes it less of a lie.
Seraphine smiles like she knows exactly what I just did. She touches our joined hands, and suddenly fire bursts around us—a column of flames shooting up from the lava below, surrounding us in a cage of burning light.
I should scream. I should run. But the fire doesn't hurt.
Through the flames, I see Kael staring at me with something between shock and fear.
"Impossible," he whispers.
"What's happening?" I gasp.
"The bonding fire only rises when—" He cuts himself off, his face getting pale under his tan skin.
The fires die down as quickly as they came. Seraphine looks pleased. The dragons in the crowd are muttering loudly now, excited and confused.
Kael drops my hand like it bit him.
"The ceremony is complete," Seraphine says. "May their union bring peace to all kingdoms."
Cheering erupts, but it sounds faraway. Everything sounds faraway except my heartbeat pounding in my ears.
Kael leans close, his breath hot against my ear. "We need to talk. Now. Before—"
A scream cuts through the joy.
Everyone turns toward the door where a guard stumbles in, his armor scorched and smoking. Blood drips from a cut on his face.
"Attack!" he yells. "The Southern line is under attack! Aurelia has sent an army!"
The room bursts into chaos. Dragons start shifting—clothes tearing, scales forming, wings bursting from backs. The heat in the room triples as dozens of dragons prepare for war.
But I'm stuck, staring at Kael.
His eyes burn into mine, golden and angry and full of betrayal.
"Did you know about this?" he asks. "Is this what you were sent here to do? Distract us while your kingdom attacks?"
"No! I didn't—I swear I didn't know—"
He grabs my wrist—the one now marked with his black dragon scale—and pulls me close.
"Then tell me, Lyra Everhart," he says, "why did the bonding fire rise for you? That only happens when dragon mates discover their true match. But you're human. And worse—you're a liar."
He releases me and shifts in a burst of heat and darkness. One second he's a man; the next he's a massive dragon with scales like polished obsidian, wings that block out the sky, and eyes that glow like twin suns.
Every dragon in the room takes flight, smashing through the crystal roof into the sky.
I'm left standing alone on the black glass floor, fire still burning underneath, married to a dragon king who hates me.
And my kingdom just declared war.