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“No,” I deadpan. “You willingly went with those assholes?”
One of the other girls laughs, and Arty ignores her. So do I. “Of course. My mother said it was most likely going to be me, as she waited and they didn’t come for her.”
“Some of the idiots here wanted this,” the girl that laughed dryly comments. She has short, pixie cut, black hair, several piercings in each of her ears, and her lip is pierced too. She is wearing black shorts and a white crop top with an oversized dark blue hoodie. “I didn’t want to go with them either.”
“Livia, I’m not an idiot. You two just don’t understand,” Arty sighs. “We were chosen for this great honour. You were both meant to be told of this and prepared. It was a message sent through the bloodlines. One day, the dragon kings of Ayiolyn will awaken the old magic and come to the mortal world to claim their brides. Then the curse on the land will be lifted until the new heirs are born and it begins all over again.”
I roll my eyes at her. “That sounds like a fucked-up fairy tale.”
“Yes, it does, but it’s real and you’re here. The dragon kings are very handsome, and being a queen doesn’t sound all too bad,” she wistfully replies. She is crazy. I’m stuck with crazy person number one.
“Those dragon assholes killed my ex-boyfriend in front of me and then kidnapped me,” I dryly respond. “They aren’t nice, and I don’t want to be a bride for any of them. How can you want that?”
She smiles sadly at me. “My life wasn’t all that great back home, but I was taught to make the best of every day of your life. You aren’t promised the next.”
I go to reply when the girl who hasn’t spoken a word stands up. Her long sleek black hair falls down her chest in two braids, but everything else about her clothes suggests either she has been here longer than us or they kidnapped her from Harry Potter World. She has black leggings, a short black top tucked into them, and a cloak clipped around her shoulders, with symbols lining the edges and a pulled-up hood. I catch a flash of dark blue eyes. All of them have English accents like me, but I don’t know hers. “Matron will be in here soon, so stop whining. She only gets pissed off when you do, and trust me, we want her on our side, or we are already dead.”
“Who the hell is Matron?” I demand. The door clicks before sweeping open, banging on the wall, and an old lady hobbles in. She’s got a silver walking stick that clicks on the stone ground, her wrinkled hand tightly clutched around it. Her back is slightly arched, so she is almost constantly looking down, and she has no hair on her head at all. Wrapped around her shoulders is a black hooded cloak that matches the other girl’s, and it’s too long, brushing the ground as she shuffles in. On the edges of the cloak are four symbols, crests maybe, and they are each an element: fire, earth, water, and air. She lifts her eyes to look at each of us, and I blanch when she meets my gaze. Her eyes are pure black, like a winter’s night.
“Come. You are the final ones to awaken.” She turns around, her walking stick loudly clicking on the ground as she leaves.
“That was Matron.”
I ignore Livia’s dry comment as I look at the open door. They haven’t locked us in, and if I can find—
“Don’t bother,” the cloaked girl coos at me, her tone patronising. “You’re not on Earth anymore. You can’t escape your fate here.”
“This is Hope,” Arty introduces us. “Hope has a bad attitude and told me to shut the fuck up when we met. I’m sure the two of you will get along like a house of straw on fire.”
“That was a strange metaphor,” Livia adds from where she is leaning on the wall, her ankles crossed. “Where are you from exactly, doll?”
Hope glares at us and snaps at Livia as she heads to the door. “Move.”
Livia holds her hands up in mock surrender, arching an eyebrow at me as Hope storms out of the room. Livia follows after her.
“Are you coming?” Arty questions, looking back at me. “It’s going to be okay. My parents told me it would be. Let’s just go and listen to Matron explain everything. One step at a time?”
I look down at myself. I’m still covered in bits of vines that have ripped several pieces of my clothing off, and I look pretty awful. “Fine.”
I climb to my feet, following her out and into a long, slim corridor with matching stone walls and a carpeted red runner leading to an open archway. There are eight other doors in the corridor, all of them open, leading to rooms like I woke up in, but no exit other than the archway, where I can hear the chatter of the others. There are no windows for me to climb out of either. Arty touches my shoulder. “I’m sorry about your ex-boyfriend. From what I understand, humans are considered less than dragon shifters, and I imagine the dragon kings wouldn’t think twice about killing us.”
“And you want to be one of their brides?” I ask. She can’t be that stupid. “You’re human, right?”
“Yes, I do, because being a queen means we could make changes and protect the humans here. It is a great honour for our family, and I would be remembered forever. It’s a great honour for you, too,” she replies, bumping my shoulder with hers.
I frown at her. “Please don’t touch me.”
“Okay,” she says with a sigh. “Well, I’m your friend. We’re sharing a room and will do till the end of this.”
“I don’t have friends,” I coldly reply. Not friends as crazy as she clearly is. There is no point getting close to anyone. I’m leaving this place as soon as I possibly can.
Arty keeps babbling on about the dragon kings as I tune her out. The corridor is plain, but the ceilings are high with swept arches that lead all the way down. The arched doorway leads to a large communal space. It’s a circular room filled with dark red sofas, thick rugs of matching colour, and a few curved dark wooden bookcases crammed with old books, littered around walls. There’s an enormous fireplace with two stone dragons making up the mantel, with their spiked backs, their tails curling around the base. Above the fireplace is a stone crown cut out of the wall itself.
The room is full of girls all the same age as me, and there is only one sofa space left—nearest to the fire and in front of the waiting Matron. I pause at the door, my eyes wide as Matron looks right at me and clicks her staff on the floor. I hear the clicking of rock and turn back to see the archway is suddenly filled up with stone bricks, looking like the surrounding walls. Magic is real. Dragons are real. If I keep saying it, maybe it won’t be so goddamn scary. I tell myself to think of what my grandmother would do in this moment. She wouldn’t cower and run. She would face this head-on and pretend everything is okay. Never cry in front of your enemies, she told me once.
Arty nods her head at the empty sofa, and I follow her over, sitting as far away from her as I can get. Of course, she moves closer and looks at Matron like an eager puppy waiting for a treat. Someone save me from her. We are definitely not going to be friends. She is way too happy about all of this, and happy about this means she must obviously be insane.
“Everyone sit down,” Matron commands, and her tone says she is not to be argued with as dozens of empty stools appear around the room. Magic. Magic is real. I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to that. As a little girl, I used to wish magic was real so I could bring back my parents and leave Silloth. Matron’s eyes turn to me for a second too long before moving around the room. Even though she looks old and fragile, something about her tone makes me a little frightened of her. I cross one of my legs over the other as everyone takes the empty seats.
