The Dragon's Stolen Bride: A Heart Between Two Worlds

Elara’s POV

The needle slips and stabs my finger.

“Ow!”

I hiss softly and yank my hand back, instinctively shoving my finger into my mouth. The sharp metallic taste of blood spreads across my tongue. I blink hard, fighting tears. I’ve been sewing for fourteen hours straight, and my hands are stiff, cramped, and trembling with exhaustion.

But I can’t stop.

Not when we need the money this badly.

“Elara,” Mama whispers from her bed in the corner of the room. Her voice sounds weak and broken, like paper tearing. “You should rest. You’ve been at it all day.”

I glance at her, my chest tightening. She looks smaller than she used to, swallowed by the thin blankets pulled up to her chest. Her cheeks are hollow, her skin pale and damp with sweat. The cough that’s been eating away at her for months has stolen her strength and every spare coin we have.

“It’s okay, Mama,” I say, forcing a smile that makes my face ache. “Mrs. Henderson needs this dress by tomorrow morning. She promised three silver coins.”

Three silver coins.

The words echo in my head like a prayer.

Three silver coins means bread for a week. Maybe even some medicine from the apothecary if I beg him enough. It won’t cure Mama, but it might ease her breathing. Might buy us a little more time.

I lower my eyes back to the fabric pooled in my lap. It’s pale blue, silk, smooth, expensive, nothing like the rough cloth of my own patched dress. Mrs. Henderson won’t tolerate crooked seams or uneven stitches. Wealthy women never do.

The cottage is quiet except for the scratch of my needle and the soft wheeze of Mama’s breathing. One small room. Dirt floor. A roof that leaks whenever it rains. The fire has burned low to save wood, leaving the air cold and damp.

But it’s home.

And I’ll bleed for it if I have to.

Beside me, my twelve-year-old sister Lily sleeps curled on a pile of blankets near the hearth. Her brown hair fans out over her pillow, tangled and messy. Her face is peaceful, innocent. She doesn’t know how close we are to losing everything.

She doesn’t know the landlord came yesterday.

Pay by next week, or you’re out, he’d said, his voice flat and uncaring.

I push the needle through the fabric again.

In and out.

My eyes burn, but I don’t slow down.

That’s when I hear it.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

The sound explodes through the cottage like thunder.

I gasp, dropping the dress. Lily jerks awake with a frightened cry. Mama struggles to sit up, panic flashing across her tired face.

“Who... who’s there?” I call, my heart slamming against my ribs.

Nobody knocks on our door at midnight.

The door doesn’t open.

It shatters.

Wood splinters and crashes inward, pieces scattering across the floor. Cold night air rushes in, carrying with it the heavy stomp of boots.

I scream and leap to my feet, throwing myself in front of Mama and Lily.

Six men storm into our home.

They wear armor polished to a cruel shine, purple cloaks edged in gold snapping behind them. The queen’s colors.

Royal guards.

My stomach drops so fast it feels like I’m falling.

“What’s happening?” Lily sobs, scrambling to my side. I wrap an arm around her, feeling her tremble.

A tall man steps forward. He’s broad-shouldered, with a long scar cutting across his cheek and eyes as cold as winter stone.

“Elara Moonstone?” he demands.

My throat closes. “Y-yes,” I stammer. “That’s me. But I... I haven’t done anything wrong! I pay my taxes! I follow the laws!”

“That’s not our concern,” the captain says, looking down at me like I’m something he scraped off his boot. “You’re coming with us. Queen’s orders.”

“No!” Mama cries, trying to rise from the bed. She collapses back with a cough that wracks her entire body. “Please...please, my daughter hasn’t done anything! There must be a mistake!”

“There is no mistake.”

The captain nods sharply.

Two guards grab my arms. Their grip is iron, painful. I cry out and struggle, but they don’t loosen their hold.

Two more guards reach for Lily.

“Don’t touch her!” I scream, kicking and twisting. “She’s just a child! Leave her alone!”

They ignore me.

Lily shrieks as they seize her, her fingers clawing at my sleeve. “Elara! Elara, I’m scared!”

“Let my sister go!” I beg. My voice cracks. “Please! Take me! Just me! They haven’t done anything!”

The captain doesn’t even look at me.

Instead, he turns to Mama, who is sobbing helplessly on the bed.

“If you want to see your daughters again,” he says slowly, deliberately, “you’ll keep your mouth shut about this visit. Tell anyone, and things will get much worse.”

Mama shakes her head violently. “Please,” she whispers. “Please don’t hurt them.”

But the guards are already dragging Lily and me toward the door.

“Mama!” Lily screams.

“We’ll be okay!” I shout back, even though terror claws at my chest. “Don’t worry! We’ll come back!”

The lie tastes bitter.

The last thing I see is Mama’s face, white with fear, tears streaming down her cheeks as she reaches for us and falls short.

Outside, a black carriage waits, its surface gleaming under the moonlight. Gold symbols decorate the doors. The guards shove Lily and me inside like sacks of grain.

The door slams shut.

The carriage lurches forward.

Through the tiny window, I watch our cottage fade into darkness. Everything I’ve ever known. Everything I’ve ever loved.

Gone.

Lily collapses against me, sobbing. I wrap my arms around her, pressing her head into my shoulder as my own tears finally spill over.

“It’s okay,” I whisper, though my voice shakes. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise.”

But even as I say it, fear gnaws at me.

I don’t know where we’re going.

I don’t know why the queen wants me.

And I don’t know how to protect Lily from whatever comes next.

The carriage races through dark streets, wheels rattling over stone. Time stretches and blurs. Lily’s sobs slowly turn into hiccups, then silence as exhaustion claims her.

“Elara,” she murmurs weakly. “Why did they take us?”

“I don’t know,” I whisper, kissing her hair. “But I’ll figure it out.”

Lights appear outside.

We’re in the capital.

I’ve never been here before. Tall buildings line the streets, their windows glowing even at this hour. People in fine clothes walk freely, laughing, unaware of the fear choking my chest.

The carriage stops.

Before us rises the royal palace.

White stone towers gleam under the moonlight, gold trim sparkling like fire. It’s beautiful and terrifying.

The door opens. The captain yanks Lily out, then me. My legs wobble as guards surround us.

Inside, everything gleams; marble floors, jeweled walls, chandeliers blazing with candlelight. I’ve never felt so small. So filthy.

We walk through endless halls until we stop before massive doors.

“The queen is waiting,” the captain says.

The doors open.

Queen Morgana sits upon a golden throne, her beauty sharp and cold as a blade. Purple silk drapes around her like spilled blood.

And beside her, a girl.

My age, my face.

Same eyes. Same hair. Same features.

She looks at me with open disgust.

“So,” Queen Morgana says smoothly, “you’re the seamstress.”

I can’t breathe.

She approaches, lifting my chin, examining me like an object.

“Perfect,” she murmurs.

“You see,” she says softly, smiling cruelly, “my daughter refuses to marry the Dragon King.”

My heart stops.

“So you will.”

A guard presses a sword to Lily’s throat.

“NO!” I scream.

Queen Morgana leans in, her voice a whisper of poison.

“You’re going to become my daughter,” she says.

“Or your little sister dies.”