To Marry a Dragon

4. The Contract

Once the scroll unfurled to its full length, the gnome cleared her throat and started reading.

"So we speak before witnesses,

So the pledge is sealed.

Maiden Elvira Amelia Daphne Elizabeth Albertina, the Grand Princess of Gallicia, Duchess of Lelinda, Estheban, and Penaria, Countess of Flero, Bantar, and Dulkon, and Viscountess of Zej—"

Lukrezia shifted under Elvira's scathing gaze.

"Ahem, let's skip the full title in the interests of expediency," she said and wrapped a few inches of the scroll in.

On his bed of grass and leaves, Ferrante stirred. Elvira searched his upturned face for the familiar flashed smiles of the fortune hunters or lickspittles. But in his brilliant eyes, all she could read was a morose sadness and self-control on the brink of breaking. He had no interest in a Royal Princess, etc. He wanted Elvira.

"I didn't choose those names," she started tentatively and chewed her lip. She didn't have to apologize for her birth, but lying... well, not lying per se, more of omitting the truth, left her with a bitter taste in her mouth. Though it could have been a burp from the dragon's fumes earlier on. "I am sorry, so sorry, for not being entirely honest with you."

"So am I. I am sorry for concealing my blood defect from you for so long." He buried his forehead to break the eye contact and avoid punishment. His voice came muffled by the greenery. "I already knew you for a lady. Your refinement and the way you rallied for the less fortunate had a stamp of noble birth. I'm neither surprised by your titles, nor do they daunt me. You, on the other hand, have every right to be furious that I couldn't find the courage—"

This time, the lightning targeted Elvira, as she searched for words to explain how she felt about his ancestral curse that wouldn't make her sound like a prissy princess. Black pits of doom! The moment it was revealed, her former station grabbed control over her life.

Her legs gave out from the jolt of electricity, and her backside landed on a root snaking through the grass. It was harder than granite. On second thought, maybe she should use her princess' arsenal, because nothing pours water on the fires of passion quicker than etiquette. "I am not angry for I understand your reluctance to trust me until today."

"You do?" Ferrante exclaimed and burrowed his face deeper into the turf, his mighty shoulders bracing for a punishing strike.

"Lukrezia!" Elvira cried, squeezing her eyes shut to not see him writhe on the ground. "Read on the blasted contract before we inadvertently kill one another!"

"Ahem, Elvira... skip the titles... currently a minor, in charge of Lord Panthutian Justinian—ahem... skip the titles..." Lukrezia's voice droned, then came a rustle of more paper being rolled up.

"Panthutian?" Despite the seriousness of the situation, Elvira sniggered. No wonder he plucked Eldwin from somewhere closer to the end of the list of his given names. Lord Eldwin was a tall, dignified man with a leonine mane of dark curls and distinguished graying temples. His gray eyes exuded benevolence rather than easy humor. Sometimes, Elvira caught an edge of something deep and dangerous in their icy sparkle. Panthutian didn't fit him at all.

Lukrezia ignored the interruption, gaining the momentum, reciting the contract like a verse.

"...as a maiden she shall gaily ascend

to the marital bed of Prince Sigvart...

...etc, etc of the Oest..."

"On this joyous Light-blessed day,