Chapter 4 HELLO, PENELOPE

Joseline's Pov

The crimson dragon fell from the sky like a shooting star.

Its massive wings blotted out the sun as it flew one lazy circle around the palace before slamming down in the courtyard. The ground vibrated, the force of the impact knocking me off my feet.

The dragon lowered its enormous head, smoke wafting from its nostrils as guards sprinted in from every side.

"His Majesty has returned!"

Someone yelled. "Healers! Hurry!"

Chaos erupted within the palace walls. Servants dropped their trays, maids rushed to fetch linens and water, royal healers tore down the halls with medicine bags.

"The western battalion suffered heavy casualties!"

Someone outside screamed. "The King defeated the Ashfang General!"

The shouts overlapped and blurred until they were meaningless sounds. I could only discern one thing: there was a lot of commotion, and now was my chance. If I stayed here, I'd be married to a king I'd never even met.

With a thumping heart, I turned and ran for the chamber door. My fingers closed around the cold bronze handle. I paused.

What if someone was outside?

Taking a shallow breath, I slowly pushed the door open. The corridor was empty.

Relief flooded me. "Okay. You can do this."

I stepped out into the palace corridor. It was huge. Pillars stretched towards painted dragons that flew across the crimson sky.

Golden banners, tacked to balconies open to the wind, flapped gently.

Everything looked… pretty. And utterly unfamiliar.

Which way was outside?

I chose the first hallway and ran.

The further I ran, the more I felt lost.

Each corridor looked identical. Another staircase. Another hall.

Another large doorway. Another balcony looking out over gardens that rivaled Central Park.

"This place is a maze," I muttered.

Voices drifted closer, so I quickly ducked behind a column. Two maids bustled past, chatting.

"Did you hear? The King killed the enemy commander himself!

“I heard he never even drew his sword.”

“He saved Lord Cedric's life again."

They rounded the corner and disappeared, and I released the breath I’d been holding.

King Drakarys.

Apparently he was some sort of warrior legend and that just made my situation worse.

As I hurried down another set of stairs, the voices grew louder.

Peeking around the corner, I felt my stomach sink.

Hundreds of soldiers stood in formation, their armor glinting.

Dragon riders dismounted, and healers rushed between wounded soldiers and resting dragons, several of which lay on the courtyard floor while their handlers tended to blood-stained scales.

There was blood everywhere, not enough to be truly gruesome, but just enough to remind me that this was no fairytale; it was a kingdom at war.

My eyes were drawn to the largest dragon in the courtyard, towering over all others, its crimson scales shimmering like steel. Its golden eyes scanned the crowd, and then someone slid down from its back.

The courtyard instantly fell silent.

Every soldier and servant dropped to their knees, even the dragons bowed their heads.

The man landed with grace. Long silver hair streamed from his broad, crimson-cloaked shoulders. His armor was scarred and streaked with blood. Without an introduction, I knew who he was.

King Drakarys.

The man I was supposedly here to marry.

His piercing blue eyes swept the crowd before landing on me. He looked nothing like the silver-haired man I had briefly seen earlier. He looked like a warrior-hard, battle-worn, and a man I desperately wanted to avoid. I began backing slowly up the stairs, hoping I could disappear back into the labyrinth of halls before anyone noticed.

"Lady Penelope!"

My heart stopped. Every head turned. No, no, no.

A maid standing on the palace steps smiled brightly, spotting me.

"Our future Queen!" She declared.

The words reverberated across the silent courtyard, and as hundreds of eyes settled on me, my breath hitched.

Drakarys's gaze snapped up to meet mine. For a frozen moment, neither of us moved. As he held my gaze, his expression shifted from battle readiness to… something else.

He began to walk towards me, the crowd automatically parting to make way.

When he stopped directly in front of me, I wanted to move, to tell him I wasn’t who he thought I was, but my feet were rooted to the spot.

His blue eyes scanned my face, as if searching for something he had almost lost. Slowly, almost reverently, he reached up and gently tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear, sending an unexpected warmth across my skin. "I thought I'd lost you," he whispered. Though his voice was soft, everyone in the courtyard heard him.

A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd.

"My King," one of the generals said uncertainly. "The council is waiting."

Drakarys ignored him, his eyes locked on mine.

Then, to my surprise, he slipped his fingers into mine. I tried to protest, but his grip was firm, possessive.

He turned back to face the assembled hundreds and spoke with effortless command, "Lift your heads."

When they obeyed, he uttered the words that sealed my fate.

“Behold…" he announced, raising our joined hands, “...my bride."

The courtyard exploded with cheers.

“Long live the King!

“Long live the future Queen!"

The sound engulfed me.

All I could do was stare at our intertwined hands, unable to register the celebratory noise.

I wasn't Penelope.

I wasn't his bride.

The palace walls vibrated with the cheers, and I couldn't even hear my own heart pounding in my chest, a prisoner to hundreds of strangers celebrating a future that wasn't mine.

Because I wasn’t Penelope.

And I had absolutely no idea where the real one was.