The Dragon Prince's Flower

Chapter 6

Daegon roamed the forest outside of Regalis, ferverently scratching at his skin. He hated the night. It always wrought the worst sensations in his skin and bones. He felt it just under his skin. The magic under his skin throbbed and pulsed painfully with his heartbeat. His skull felt as if it were being crushed between invisible stones. Sweat beaded on every available inch of skin as he tried to soothe his own breathing. He tried pressing his palms against his arms, with little success. He could feel it, the hardened shapes forming just below the muscle, his scales. He gagged and dropped to his knees, tracing the shape of the blunt side. He prayed it stop hurting, Stars please, make it stop. He hated it. The feeling, the pain, the burning in his lungs as he gasped desperately for air.

He wondered if maybe the Elder was right, if he had to truly accept himself for what he was before this curse would transform into a blessing. He tried, many times, but something was holding him back. This is what the Rite was for, he thought to himself. Many of his kin had to go through the Rites before taking their true and most awesome form of a fully matured and elegant dragon.

Find a mate. Claim a land. Hoard 10,000 riches. And above all else, do it without incurring the wratch of the Inquistitors. It sounded easy enough, such simple passages for a Dragon.

Daegon had already claimed some land and hoarded well over the limit of riches. His land consisted of a small, struggling farmer's town. They grew him crops and paid him in a fair tax each month, and he helped their crops grow. The town had begun to flourish and prosper into a proper city over the last few years with Daegon's help. He was proud of the land he had and named it Lainsdel. "City without ruin." Daegon had thought himself clever for the name, even the farmers had picked up on it, prefering it over "Gravesville."

Daegon let out a shuddered breath as he willed his feet to move him farther and farther away from Regalis, hiding in the forest had becoming his way of keeping the people safe. He never knew when the magic would take form and bring on his final rite of passage and finally grow into his true power. But he felt it, the pull back towards the city. He knew it must mean his mate was in the city. Would the princess choose him as her suitor? If she truly was the girl destined to be his mate, she would feel the pull just as he did. He would know.

His feet paused in place at the thought. Her silver eyes pierced his brain and haunted him like a ghost. Her pitch-black hair, the way her slender frame curved in his hands. His thoughts were consumed by that girl, the Princess. Daliah. He looked over his shaking shoulder back to the city lights, lanterns flickering in the distance by now, but still warm and welcoming to any stranger to the beautiful city. His breathing slowed for a moment as he watched as a few carriages pulled into the city, obviously nobility, with all the frills and tassles and coachmen. Some had emblems that he could barely make out from the distance, but his eyes were sharper than a normal man's and he saw the crests for many highly ranked nobles from all across Rustelle, from the Kilmartins, to the Abertheads, and even the reclusive Moritan family. He squinted at a carriage that sparkled even under the pale moon, silver tassles hung from the carriage roof, and gold trimming detailed the edges. Silver and black livery wrapped like an ivy around the side of the carriage. The crest on the door that of a dragon encircling the stars. The Drakes of Wyveria.

"Mother?" He asked himself, squinting harder into the carriage window. He saw his mother and his older sister inside, both dressed in exceptionally regal gowns adorned with silver and rubies. Her rod-straight golden blonde hair framed her shoulders and face in an almost statuesque sort of way, making her appearance icy. Her piercing green eyes still held onto that fire that betrayed her true nature to the humans. His mother's perfectly angled face looked cold and calculating, as always. His sister simply looked giddy from excitment, her matching blonde hair bounching in waves as she excitedly chattered at their mother. Daegon took steps toward the carriage, his steps fumbling and shaking but filled with purpose, to reach that carriage.