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Where were her wyverns? They were wild things, untamed and proud, and had likely scattered to the farthest reaches of the kingdom the moment they were freed.

The unbearable heat must have driven them into the deep, shadowed caves beneath the mountains, where the air would be cool, the stone cold against their thick scales. She would need Nyx today.

‘Not as terrifying as wyverns,’ Alina said. She meant it as a compliment but there was something there that Mal did not quite like.

‘Shall we ride?’ Mal asked, excited at the thought of mounting a dragon.

‘We are not permitted.’

‘Excuse me? Not permitted? By whom?’

‘My father. The king .’

Mal’s hands curled into fists. Once again, she was struck by the sheer injustice drakonian women endured in the Kingdom of Fire.

This was not her land, not her customs, not her fight—yet the knowledge of it seared against her like a blade.

How could anyone stand idly by and pretend such cruelty did not matter?

‘Those rules need to change,’ Mal said, keeping her anger in check.

‘Perhaps my brother will change them when he becomes king.’

Mal snorted. ‘A man shouldn’t be the one changing such rules.’

Alina looked slightly uncomfortable. Her attention drifted from Mal to the dragons as if by ignoring the wyverian princess she might disappear.

Sighing, she finally gave in and said, ‘Even though I cannot ride them, I still enjoy their company. It is strange though how they answer to me and not to them .’ Alina’s smile was radiant.

Even standing here, surrounded by gnarled trees and parched earth, she glowed, a presence so warm it was no wonder she was called the most beautiful drakonian in the land.

Mal could understand why. There was something about her that demanded attention, something soft yet unyielding.

‘They answer to you because you spend time with them and care for them. You do not just use them as a ride.’ Mal approached one of the dragons, stretching her pale hand out for the magnificent beast to sniff. ‘A true rider sees their beast as an extension of themselves.’

Alina smiled sweetly, as though grateful for Mal’s words.

They walked together, side by side, as Mal admitted that she had lost her way and had no idea how to return to the castle.

The morning had slipped into the afternoon, leaving them with hours to spare before the Champions’ Battle.

Mal knew the castle would be a flurry of preparation, the entire kingdom buzzing with anticipation for the spectacle.

By now, every soul—drakonian, desert folk, Fae, and creatures of far away lands—was aware that she had chosen no champion.

That alone had sparked endless speculation.

It was tradition for the chosen warrior to be informed the night before, granted time to prepare. Yet Mal had made no such choice.

And so, the world whispered. The wild wyverian princess would do something reckless. Something foolish. Let them whisper. For Mal, it was not foolish at all.

It was her honour.

‘Does it ever worry you what people think about you?’ Alina asked.

As they stepped beyond the thinning tree line, the world opened before them, vast and unrelenting.

The castle stood ahead, its red and golden splendour rising against the blood-coloured sky, its towers clawing towards the heavens.

Beyond its walls, the land stretched endlessly, and in the distance, dark smoke curled lazily from the mouths of distant volcanoes, weaving into the sky like serpents.

‘Because of my eyes?’ Mal asked.

‘Do you not wonder why you have purple eyes?’

‘I used to wonder when I was younger. I do not anymore.’

Liar, liar, liar.

‘ I don’t think I’d be able to ever rest. I would need to know why I was curs…’ Alina looked away quickly, realising that she had been about to use the word cursed to describe Mal’s eyes.

‘I have grown used to the whispers and the looks,’ Mal said, squaring her shoulders with pride. ‘One reaches the day that they no longer listen to the names being called behind ones back.’

Liar, liar, liar.

‘Do you believe in any of it?’ Alina asked, not daring to look at the wyverian princess.

‘I do not think about it enough to question it.’ Mal would not be telling her secrets and especially not her worries to Alina Acheron. ‘My role is to unify our kingdoms.’

Alina stopped walking before they reached the outside stone wall that led to the gardens. She turned towards Mal with curiosity. ‘I don’t know if I’d be able to do such a thing. Leaving my land to enter another, marry a man I do not know to save our world. I do admire you, princess.’

‘Thank you.’

Alina’s eyes hardened.

‘And it is because I admire you that I must warn you,’ she said.

‘My brother will never love you. You will never be a true queen to this land. You will always be a foreigner, a permanent guest that cannot leave. My brother will do his duty, but it shall only ever be through paper. You will never feel his caress, his loving words whispered into your ear or feel him in your bed at night. He will show up at your side at the required events and then he will slip away to continue on with his life, which you will not be a part of. Perhaps he might put a baby in you some day, if it is needed.’ Alina shrugged.

‘But he will not love you for it. He will probably resent you. He will have a lover or many of them. You will end up a forgotten princess in one of our many wings in this enormous castle.’

Mal’s heart clenched. A strange ache bloomed within her chest, tightening, pulling, as though an unseen hand had reached inside and wrapped itself around something vital.

She had thought about this—this future, this fate.

And yet, no matter how many times she turned the thoughts over in her mind, the weight of them never settled.

She would kill the prince. That much was certain. She would slip into his chambers in the quiet of night, drive her blade through his heart, and disappear into the darkness before anyone could stop her.

She just needed more time.

More answers.

She had to be sure—had to understand precisely what the prophecy demanded before she carried out her role. And once she knew, once she was certain… the prince would not live to see another sunrise.

‘Do you feel better now?’ The cold resolve in her voice must have caught Alina off guard. The princess blinked, clearly expecting something else—tears, perhaps. Some display of grief or hesitation. How little she knew of wyverians .

‘I do not say these words to upset you,’ Alina said. ‘From a drakonian woman to a wyverian one, they are a warning. I do not know you, but I wouldn’t wish this destiny upon even an enemy. Least of all a woman that has done nothing to deserve such a fate.’

Mal allowed herself a faint smile. In her own stiff, reserved way, Alina was sweet.

The drakonian princess’s gown was impossibly fitted, crimson silk clinging to her figure, covering every inch of her skin.

Mal resisted the urge to reach for one of her hidden daggers and slash the restrictive thing to pieces.

‘Can you breathe in that corset?’ Mal asked, cocking her head. Alina’s eyes widened, surely confused by Mal’s lack of a reaction to the news that the Fire Prince had no interest in seducing her. Mal tried not to roll her eyes at the thought.

‘Did you hear what I said?’ Alina replied.

‘Every single word. Your brother would never love someone like me… something about him putting babies in my belly, something else about a wing…’ Mal smiled deeply at the princess’s annoyed look. ‘Can I ask you something? From princess to princess?’

‘What?’ Alina’s teeth gritted together.

‘Why? Why could your brother not fall in love with me?’

Alina turned to her, looking almost startled by the question.

Mal had asked a question—one she had expected a practiced answer to, something distant, something polite.

A deflection. Instead, when Alina finally responded, her words were so unexpected, so jarring, that Mal felt her body stiffen, a rare shock rippling through her as she took an instinctive step back.

‘My brother will never love you because of your eyes,’ Alina said. ‘Because he fell in love with eyes like yours. And they betrayed him.’