The Golden Dragon's Princess

ith the brethren through story. Tales of lovers separated by misfortune, the vain punished wit

but are wary of the Fae with their costly altruism and deceptive beauty

ghty wings and magical power, who demand virgi

e movement spilled delicate white finger bones out onto the path, remindi

re capped white. There was no snow here, but the air held the bite and scent of it, whe

h. There was an abundance of them upon it, in varying states of decay - knights, and other fortun

n the lucky ones, incinerated under dragon flame. These others, either they had caught the tail of the flame and had died of their

way. Was I foolhardy to ignore the warning? I wondered. I would like to think it

ragon turned the ones who did to ash rather than have them rot within smelling distance of his home. T

and pulled against me. Foolish princess, I told myself. Why had I not worn trousers and tunic to flee Uyan Taesil in, instead of this gown? It had been designed for courtly riding, not for

at home? Had he moved to other dwellings? The villagers had not been helpful. They had reached an accord with the dragon

nd the dragon’s fury, I would have little chance of survival. The path cu

ck from his scales rubbing against them. The ledge before it was large, too – more than big enough to accommodate a sizeable dragon landing upon it.

The tunnel ran deep, and for the first few meters, the walls were uninterrupted, and then I could see openings in

ragon sle

tion of anything within the tunnel. Surely if my breathing were so loud, a creature the size

again, and I looked down expecting to see armour, but instead saw gold coins

mine before. The marks could equally be dragon claws, I amended. But the village b

aena and cinnabar, mixed with something that I could not put a name to. It surprised me that a dragon’s cave would smell of incense. But then, what h

books, another held chests and bolts of luxurious fabrics, many with gold or silver thread, and the finest muslin. A bed was within

to the monochrome of the darkness. I crunched one under my foot and froze. Hopefully it was not priceless, I thought ruefully as I scuffed the stone fragments to the side. But then, t

nse was gradually

stness. In the centre, the treasure pile was of bewildering scale. I could build a small castle from

ooks at their sides, as if the dragon regularly had visitors to j

g up into a natural opening in the rock, a table and two chairs, shelves on the walls containing crockery, and s

had gouged out a bowl for it to collect in. Did he drink from it? Or, perhaps, his book and

e lacked, and the one thing

e wa

ll my needs at him, moving him with the plight of the brethren of my kingdom, and hopefully saving my life just as he was about to turn me to ash. I w

most realistic

rms of the throne were smooth beneath my hands, as if from frequent use, and there was a bottle of wine by the chair that still contained liquid. It had been an exhausting climb, so I

much as the poor light would let me. The kitchen smelled of drying herbs, b

unsalvageable. There were clean dresses in the chests in the cave where fabrics were kept, beautiful dresses in expen

t in the fabric, not overwhelming, just pleasantly present as I lay my head down on

dea to fall asleep. But then, I did not think a sleeping w