Page 23 of Courting the Dragon King

Konrad’s hand shook. He ran it through his hair. His fingers hit his crown, knocking it off-centre. “Fuck!”

“Here, let me help.” Gerard stepped forward. He straightened the crown. “There.” Then he placed his hands on Konrad’s shoulders. “Deep breath. You don’t have to like him or respect him. You can even hate him and think him evil. What matters is that you marry him so this peace treaty can be finalised.”

“You’re right. I just wish—” What did he wish? He wished he was not marrying a necromancer. He wished he was marrying someone else. Anyone else. From any of the other kingdoms.

And he just wished he was ready to be king. Instead he felt like he was already failing and letting down his kingdom. They still had no leads on the identities of the robed figures who had attacked their father. Konrad swallowed.

Their father may have had many faults. He was by no means a perfect king, but Konrad did not doubt that his father had been a better king than Konrad. He’d be far more in control of the current situation.

“At least we are well defended today,” Konrad said. He hated that he could hear a tremble in his voice.

Gerard nodded. “That we are. No one will stop this marriage.” They’d thought today could be a day when those plotting might attack. So they’d upped their security and defences.

“Your Majesty. Your Highness,” the monk standing by the door said. “We are ready to start the ceremony.”

“I’m right here with you, brother.” Gerard dropped his hands and stepped back.

Konrad faced the door.

The monk opened it, revealing a large ceremony chamber. The white walls had been constructed from smooth marble. No tapestries or paintings decorated the barren walls. Sunlight flooded in through large glass windows.

At the front of the chamber, Grand Monk Ferdinand stood on a raised dais. Two monks stood on either side of him. They all wore their beige robes and copper chains. Otherwise, the large chamber remained empty. No one except those involved in the sacred binding ritual would be present.

“Dragon King Konrad Drachen,” the grand monk announced. “Accompanying him is Dragon Warrior Prince Gerard of Draconia. King Konrad Drachen is representing the Royal House and the Kingdom of Draconia. His marriage will act as the final marriage that will seal the peace treaty.”

Konrad came forward. Gerard followed.

Before the grand monk stood a white table that held a bowl of ink, a quill, and a scroll. That scroll laid out the marriage contract that Konrad would be binding himself to. It was written in Lorentath, an ancient language known by the monks and only a few others.

Konrad stared at the scroll. Within, it would state the vows they were binding themselves to, including that they would need to consummate the marriage, be true to each other, live in close proximity, and not murder each other. Breaking any of those would result in madness, illness, and death.

As he stared at the scroll, it felt like the marble walls and ceiling were all creeping closer to him, inch by inch. The room felt smaller. The air thicker. He took a breath, trying to slow his heartbeat.

There would be no escaping this marriage. He’d be bound to a necromancer forever. Or at least until one of them died.

Since the beginning of the peace assembly, he’d fought against this marriage. From even before that, he’d fought against a peace treaty with the necromancers. He’d never trusted them. But despite all that, here he was.

The door on the other side of the chamber opened.

“Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm,” the grand monk announced. “Accompanying him are Shadow Queen Rue Grimm and Shadow King Lament Grimm of Necros. They are presenting Shadow Prince Wraith Grimm, recognising that he is acting as a representative of the Royal House of Necros. His marriage will act as the final marriage that will seal the peace treaty.”

Konrad took a deep breath and looked up.

Wraith floated across the floor. He wore slender black trousers that hugged his thin legs. His top was flowy and translucent, showing off the fine lines of his torso. Over that, he wore a long black cape, embroidered with silver. Around the collar of the cape, black feathers sprouted upwards in an arch, framing his neck and head.

Kohl surrounded his eyes. His plump lips had been painted a bright red, which contrasted so starkly with the rest of the dark outfit and his own pale skin. Silver pins, shaped like bones, held his long black hair in an elaborate hairstyle of twists and plaits. His dark eyes remained on the floor as he walked forward.

The sight of his betrothed was truly breathtaking. No one could say otherwise. And even though some of the elements of his appearance, like the bone hairpins, were unnerving, they were easily forgotten when Konrad was faced with the undeniable and startling beauty of Shadow Prince Wraith.

The prince walked forward, his feet making no sound. He stopped and faced Konrad, but his gaze remained down. The shadow king and queen came up behind him.

“Now, for this ceremony, I will need a drop of each of your blood.” The grand monk pulled a golden needle from within his robe. “Please hold out your hands.”

The other monks began to chant in what Konrad assumed was Lorentath.

Konrad lifted his arm. The needle pressed into his finger. The grand monk took his wrist and guided his hand over the bowl of ink. Konrad’s blood dripped into the bowl. The grand monk released his hand, and Konrad dropped it to his side.

The grand monk turned to Wraith. He held his hands tightly together before his chest, not offering either of them to the grand monk. He stared down at the bowl of ink and Konrad’s blood.