Dragon and the Princess Read Online Free PDF

using complex vowels where simple ones would do.
    It must be the remnants of hralla in her that made this seem so unreal, Rozlinda thought. This couldn’t truly be happening. Where had he come from, just like that?
    Then she knew.
    He’d ridden the beast—as a Dornaan warrior would. A pale-haired Dornaan warrior . . . but the Dornae didn’t
kill
dragons. They revered and adored them. This had to all be a hralla dream.
    The man turned on his gold-and-crimson hill, looking like a dream himself. His bare, dark arms were outstretched and glinted with gold as he addressed the Saragondans, but especially the powerful men up here on the summit.
    “Does not your sacred tradition say that any man who can lay low the dragon and put his foot upon its neck may claim the sacrificial princess as his bride? I claim that right in recompense for the dragon stolen from us seven years ago, against all rules of harmony and honor between our peoples.”
    “Sir,” called her father, “we apologize most sincerely for that and assure you it will never happen again. But there must be some other recompense.”
    The Dornaan turned to face Rozlinda. To her, he said, “None.”
    Jerrott cried out, “May I not challenge this rogue, sire?”
    “Be silent.”
    Her father’s tone made Rozlinda quake. This was all real, and she suddenly understood her situation.
    The royal family of Saragond existed because the princess blood was essential to peace, harmony and prosperity. Aurora’s selfishness had threatened disaster. To refuse this man now could ruin their house.
    Nor did she think her father was moved solely by that. He truly believed this ritual was essential. And so, she realized, did she. Despite internal rebellion, she had faithfully followed the Princess Way for seven long years because she believed.
    Stillness hovered over rock and plain as everyone waited for her father to speak. In this, his word was law. At last he said, “Captain, give this man the key.”
    The Dornaan ran down the dragon’s leg and strolled toward Rozlinda. She remembered that easy walk. She remembered that enormous dragon eye on his chest. Up close, it seethed in the sun like a bubble of molten rock.
    It was real.
    He was real.
    This was really happening.
    Perhaps this was another ritual, Rozlinda thought frantically. A symbolic marriage important to his people?
    Or perhaps the dragon needed more blood.
    She could do that.
    A cup or two more wouldn’t kill her.
    As he came closer, those cold eyes stole her breath.
    I’ll give you some fingers and toes, even
, she desperately thought.
    He extended a hand, and Jerrott stiffly put the key in it. When the Dornaan reached for the padlock, Rozlinda couldn’t help but flinch away. Heat beat out from him, as if a fire burned within his dusky skin. Or perhaps the heat came from that dragon eye. She felt that if she were to touch it, it would not be cold like a stone, but hot enough to char her skin.
    He turned the key, tossed the lock aside and loosened her chains, unwinding them until they tinkled to the ground. Then he took her hand and led her away—toward the dragon.
    She jerked back. “Don’t. Please don’t feed me to it!” It came out as a pathetic squeak.
    “I won’t.”
    Of course not. The dragon was dead.
    “Not here, at least,” he added, with a touch of grim humor.
    Other dragons. Thousands of dragons. In Dorn.
    “Come.” He tugged and she had to follow, for no one was making a move to help her. It was as she’d thought. In the end, these men would sacrifice her if it suited their own ends.
    She stumbled along, one hand holding up her overlong skirts, her veil blowing around her face and trying to smother her. The wind shifted and cleared her face, seeming to clear her mind. She twisted back to look at her father, at Jerrott, at the councilors and lords. “Help me!” she screamed.
    Some twitched, but then they looked away.
    What could anyone do? Even Jerrott couldn’t save her by killing the