Four years ago, Morgan was found half-dead near the dragon village of Thorsbury Upon Wick.
Morgan cannot remember what happened to her, but the villagers suspect she might be a dragon from their long lost ancestral homeland.
Adopted by the villager...
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M O R G A N
"I'm sorry, did you just say you want to marry Poppy?" I repeated, not quite believing what I'd just heard.
"That's the plan," Henry replied, turning away from me and reaching for a large crystal decanter of red wine on the table. His fingers trembled as he removed the crystal stopper from the decanter and poured himself a drink.
"Why do you want to marry Poppy?" I asked.
Henry shrugged and downed his glass of red wine in a couple of gulps.
"Prince Dante thinks it's a good idea," he replied grimly.
"But do you think it's a good idea?" I asked.
A flicker of irritation crossed Henry's face, and he poured himself another glass of wine.
Clearly, this marriage proposal was not his idea. Henry was a Lord, and Poppy was a barmaid. They had never met before this day, so why was Prince Dante so eager for them to marry?
"I'm not sure Poppy would be happy about marrying you," I said bluntly.
"I'm not exactly happy with this prospective marriage either - but I'm told that marriages are about forging alliances rather than one's happiness," Henry countered.
"Poppy is no one. She can't offer you anything. She's a nobody," I replied.
"But she is somebody to you," Henry countered.
It was then I realised why Henry was doing this. He and Dante were looking for a way to control me through Poppy.
A silver plate clattered to the floor behind us, and I turned to see Poppy licking her bloody fingers, having finished eating her plate of raw flesh.
Henry made a muffled sound of disgust and clicked his fingers. A side door opened, and a young woman rushed into the room carrying a platter of skinned rabbits. The heads of one of the rabbits lolled off the edge of the platter, catching Poppy's attention. She lunged for the dead rabbit, pulling it off the platter and biting into it.
The servant let out a yelp of surprise and nearly dropped the platter of dead rabbits to the floor.
Poppy dropped to the floor and tore open the rabbit. Blood and entrails dripped onto her beautiful pale pink bodice.
I pressed the back of my hand against my mouth as a wave of nausea rose up from my stomach. Poppy no longer looked like Poppy. Her eyes were milky white and sunken. The skin on her face was stretched tightly across her skull and was a sickly shade of bluish-grey.
I called out to her, hoping that she would recognise my voice and I'd a glimmer of the girl that I once knew.
