Chapter 2

Shanna stormed into her room and slammed the door behind her, then leaned against it and pressed her palms to her temples until her trembling finally eased. Nothing to brighten the day like getting into an argument with her stepfather—and right on the cusp of her consort selection.

"Are you all right, Your Highness?"

"I'm fine."

Shanna finally pushed away from the door. She mustered a smile for the three women anxiously watching her, maids who had served her faithfully for years even though being too close to her was never a good thing. Shanna should have ladies-in-waiting, but the more friends she had, the more weaknesses there were for her stepfather to exploit. She'd learned that lesson after he'd essentially banished Astira, her childhood friend, the girl who'd grown up alongside Shanna, learned beside her, played with her…and been far too loudly opinionated and defiant. Mercen had wasted no time in getting her out of sight and mind the very moment he was able. Shanna still received letters from Astira every month or so, but they would not likely see each other again until Shanna was securely on the throne—assuming she ever got that far.

Her stepfather had let her live this long only because her death would be too suspicious to overlook. But letting her live didn't equate to letting her become queen. He'd schemed and plotted far too hard for that.

"Could you bring my work clothes to me? I've had enough of court today, and I wanted to see the new green dragon for myself."

"Of course, Highness." The head maid, Lia, sent one of the others off while she went to pour Shanna a glass of wine from the carafe on the sidebar.

She offered it, and Shanna took several sips. "Thank you."

Together with the remaining maid, Kari, Lia got Shanna out of her elaborate, cumbersome court clothes, laid them aside, and dressed her in the much simpler breeches, shirt, and tunic that Gwyn brought.

After tugging on her boots and binding her hair in a quick braid that she pinned up, Shanna thanked them and headed off out of the castle to the enormous stables in the southeast yard. There was nothing quite like an afternoon of cleaning out the dragon stables to burn off anxiety and worry.

First, however, she checked on the new green dragon. She was a beauty, long and lean, meant for speed. She'd been bought to replace another courier dragon recently lost to illness—and better still, this one was young enough for breeding. The dragon rumbled inquisitively and flicked out her long, split tongue to taste, black eyes shimmering. With another rumble of approval, the dragon settled down and promptly started scratching and burring for attention that Shanna was happy to give.

Eventually, she had to leave the sweet little thing to get to work. Normally there were hands aplenty to keep the stables running smoothly, but with the consort selection beginning that night, the castle was overrun with far more guests than usual. Even with extra help hired, there was too much work and too few hands.

So Shanna pulled a kerchief from her pocket to wrap around her head, grabbed a shovel, and set to cleaning out stalls.

Unfortunately, it did not burn away the long evening looming before her. A hateful stepfather and piles upon piles of suitors from which she must pick a consort she didn't want. Well, no, that wasn't true. She wanted a consort, someone she could love and trust and rely on the way her mother had always relied on her father. But a consort was also one more thing her stepfather could use against her, assuming whoever it was didn't simply side with Mercen. If he had his way, her consort would be somebody to benefit him and help control her. So right now, no, she didn't want a consort. But the law was the law, so old and entrenched even Mercen couldn't abolish it, and that meant that at some point in the next two weeks Shanna would have to pick a consort from all the suitors arriving to vie for the honor. Twenty-one men and women had accepted invitations, from all over the world—including those kingdoms her mother would have never invited, but her stepfather most certainly had for his own ends.

Her only hope was to outsmart him and force through her own choice, someone who hopefully would be able to help her stand against Mercen. More than likely, whoever it was would simply be neutral, useless to them both, leaving them exactly where they had been for the last six years: neither able to get rid of the other, quietly moving pieces, always waiting for an opening to strike.

This was not how her life was meant to have gone, but she'd thought the same thing years ago when she fourteen and in love for the first time, and the love of her life had died of illness only months later. She'd thought it again when her mother had fallen ill and never recovered. She and life were clearly never going to agree on how things were meant to be.

"Excuse me, girl."

Shanna finished with the latest shovel of shit she'd just scooped and turned around, staring at the handsome, imperious man standing several paces away, arms folded across his chest. A young woman stood beside him, exhausted and sweaty, clutching the reins of a dragon that looked to be in even worse shape. "Yes?"

The man's brows rose in disapproval of her casual reply. "Take this dragon, please, and you may want to remember to mind your manners better when before your superiors."

Laughing, Shanna replied, "By your definitions of superiors, who in the world is more superior in this castle than its future queen?"

"What?" The man looked her up and down. "Enough of your foolishness."

"Tikki!" she called.

The stable boy came bustling out of the back, still holding the tack he'd been cleaning. "Yes, Your Highness?"