I put my hand over my hip and press on the concealed weapon. “I beg your pardon? Why would you say that?”
“Because if you knew how to use it, you wouldn’t carry it beneath layers of clothing. You would carry it somewhere easily accessible. Like this.” Out of nowhere he produces a wicked-looking dagger and twirls it around in his fingers a few times before slowly and deliberately putting it back up his sleeve.
I huff my breath out and put my nose in the air. “I know how to use it,” I say, my voice haughty. In a flash, he is off his horse and pulling me down from mine. One of his arms cinches around my neck, the other pulls my body firmly against his, and I flail and thrash at him. I scream and scratch his arms, and try to pry myself from his grasp.
“See what I mean?” he says, releasing me. I stumble away, and he grabs my elbow to make sure I don’t fall.
“Do not touch me, sir!” I yank my elbow out of his grasp. Stepping farther from him, I smooth the front of my dress.
“If you had been trained to use that dagger, you would have had it out the moment I grabbed you. Self-defense is the first thing a woman of your rank should be taught.”
“My people aren’t violent like yours. I don’t need the dagger. That’s what the guards are for,” I say, mimicking Diamanta. I gather my long hair and start twisting it back up into a bun.
“And when you are alone?”
“I’m never alone when I’m in the castle, and I’m not allowed to leave the castle grounds.” Once the words leave my mouth I wish I could take them back.
“You’re running away. Alone. With no way to protect yourself. And you’ve never been out there.” He waves his hand toward the Glass Forest. “Do you know why my family always arrives at your castle armed?”
“Because you are bloodthirsty barbarians,” I snap.
His eyes narrow. “The Glass Forest is infested with Trevonan renegades, Satari migrants, and mercenaries. If that lawless place is where you were planning to run, I think your chances will be better with the fire dragon. At least that way, you will have a quick death.”
I glance at the distant forest. I have always wanted to see it.
“When we are taught to read, we are also taught of the spell binding our two countries together. Do you know about the spell?” Golmarr asks.
“I know every single word of it, since it has been drilled into my head since I was old enough to speak! Three hundred years ago your ancestor tried to take over Faodara by waking the fire dragon that lives in the mountains that separate our countries. The dragon wreaked havoc, so our ancestors found a way to lock it in the mountain. My nurse used it as a bedtime story.”
Golmarr laughs and shakes his head. He takes a step closer, and for the first time ever I am glad that I am not short, because even with my height, it feels as if he is looming over me. “No. My ancestor did not try to take your land. Your king attacked Anthar, so my king woke the fire dragon, and it is not a bedtime story. It is in all of our history books.”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, I am familiar with the accounts of the fire dragon burning both of our countries, cooking our soldiers in their armor, destroying crops and herds, until your ancestor begged mine to stop the dragon’s slaughter in exchange for ending the war and signing a peace treaty. They tried but the fire dragon wouldn’t stop its rampage. It had taken a liking to cooked human flesh.”
He nods his head, and as if we read the exact same history books, continues, “Both of our ancestors combined all the treasure they possessed and bought a powerful spell from a wizard. To bind the fire dragon back inside the mountain, our two countries had to swear peace. To give the spell enough power to work, the Antharian king agreed that he and his progeny would bear only sons from that day forward. Your queens would bear only daughters. And each virgin daughter would be offered to the Antharian heir to renew the strength of the spell, or be fed to the fire dragon if she refuses to offer herself.”
I ball my hands into fists. “That is so unfair! Four of my great-grandmothers have been stolen away by your people in the past three hundred years. Two have chosen to be fed to the fire dragon. Why are the women—the virgins, no less—always the ones who have to be forced into a marriage?”
He shrugs, and I notice a piece of golden hay in his dark hair. “Your ancestor started the war, so you got the worse end of the deal. But none of your women were stolen away by my people. They came willingly and lived good, prosperous, fulfilling lives. Princess Sorrowlynn, if you do not offer yourself to my family, you will be fed to the fire dragon to renew the spell’s strength. If you do offer yourself, but we refuse, a lamb is offered in your place and you get to return home to your normal life.”