The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 134

LIRA 

The fitting room smelled of lavender and beeswax.

I stood on a small platform while three seamstresses circled me like hawks, their hands full of pins and measuring tape. They spoke in low, rapid murmurs, discussing hems and bodices and the drape of silk, but I heard none of it.

My mind was elsewhere.

Veyraxis.

The name echoed through my skull like a death knell.

She was going to attack.

On the day of the Dragon Trials, she had said. When the palace was full of nobles and guards and innocent people who had no idea what was coming.

Stand with me. Or burn with them.

What choice was that?

What kind of monster gave someone a choice like that?

"Lady Lira?"

I blinked.

One of the seamstresses was looking at me expectantly, a pin held between her teeth.

"I'm sorry," I said. "What did you say?"

"I asked if you preferred the waist higher or lower." She removed the pin, gesturing to the half-fitted gown. "For the ball."

The ball.

I had forgotten about the ball.

"The higher waist," I said automatically. "It's more modest."

The seamstress nodded and returned to her work.

I looked down at the dress.

Silver.

Not my choice, the crown had selected the colors for each of us, based on something the instructors called "harmony of essence." I didn't know what that meant. I didn't care.

The silver was beautiful, though. Pale and shimmering, like moonlight on water. It pooled around my feet in soft waves, and the bodice was embroidered with tiny crystals that caught the light.

I should have been excited.

Any other girl would have been excited.

But all I could think about was fire.

\---

The fitting room was bustling.

Three platforms had been set up in a row, and on each stood one of the remaining candidates.

Calista occupied the center platform, naturally. Her gown was a blazing red, the color of blood and rubies and the heart of a flame. It hugged her figure like it had been painted on, and the neckline plunged in a way that made even the seamstresses blush.

She was smiling.

Smiling.

Like she hadn't poisoned me. Like she hadn't tried to burn Evadne. Like she wasn't plotting and scheming and manipulating her way toward a crown she didn't deserve.

"Red suits you, Calista," Elora said from the left platform. Her voice was neutral, but I caught the edge beneath it.

Calista turned, her golden hair catching the light.

"Thank you, Elora." She ran a hand down her hip, smoothing the fabric. "I've always thought so."

Her eyes flicked to me.

"And silver for Lady Lira." She tilted her head, studying me like I was a painting in a gallery. "How... understated."

I said nothing.

Didn't trust myself to speak.

Calista's smile widened, as if my silence was exactly what she'd wanted.

\-——————————

Elora's gown was emerald green.

The color of her family. The color of growing things, of fields and forests and the life that sprang from soil.

It suited her.

She looked softer than Calista, kinder. The green brought out the warmth in her brown eyes, the gentle curve of her smile.

But even Elora's kindness couldn't reach me today.

I stood on my platform, still as stone, while the seamstresses pinned and tucked and murmured. The silver fabric rustled around my ankles. The crystals on the bodice glittered.

And I thought about Veyraxis.

How do I stop her?

I didn't know.

I didn't have an army. I didn't have magic. I had Luna, small and hidden and utterly defenseless, and I had a bond I hadn't asked for.

You could warn them.

The thought surfaced unbidden.

You could tell Cassian. Tell Evander. Tell anyone who would listen.

But what would happen if I did?

They would lock me in the dungeons. Or execute me. Or worse, they would use Luna as bait, as leverage, as a weapon against the very creature who had trusted me.

I can't.

I couldn't warn them.

And I couldn't stop her.

So what was left?

\---

"You're so quiet today."

Elora's voice pulled me back to the present.

I looked over. She had stepped down from her platform and was standing a few feet away, her gown half-pinned, her brown hair falling loose around her shoulders.

"I'm always quiet," I said.

"No." She shook her head. "You're absentminded. There's a difference."

I didn't answer.

Elora studied me for a moment, her dark eyes searching. Then she stepped closer, lowering her voice so the seamstresses wouldn't hear.

"What's wrong, Lira?"

"Nothing."

"You're lying."

"I'm not..." 

"You've been pale all day. You haven't eaten. And you keep staring at the window like you're waiting for something terrible to appear." She paused. "Or someone."

My throat tightened.

"I'm just nervous," I said. "About the Dragon Trials."

It wasn't a lie. Not entirely.

Elora's expression softened.

"You don't have to worry about that," she said gently. "If things go well with Prince Evander, you won't even have to face the trials."

I blinked.

"What?"

"Prince Evander." She said his name like it was obvious. "The Prince that has been courting you for weeks. Just imagine if he formally proposes before the trials, you'll be withdrawn from the Selection. I heard he's back in the palace now." 

I stared at her.

"I didn't know that."

"Well he is. Some servants saw him yesterday." She smiled, small and sad. "Even if you do eventually make it to the Dragon Trials. We all know the real winner is Calista anyway."

Her voice was matter-of-fact. Resigned.

"She's been the obvious choice of the Queen" Elora continued. "The rest of us are just... decoration. Filler to make the Selection look legitimate."

"Elora..." 

"It's fine." She waved a hand. "I've made my peace with it. My parents are so happy and proud I made it this far. That's enough for me."

I wanted to argue. Wanted to tell her that she deserved more than to be dismissed as "filler." That she was kinder and braver and more genuine than Calista could ever dream of being.

But the words stuck in my throat.

Because what right did I have to offer comfort?

I was a liar. An imposter. A girl who had walked into this palace with vengeance in her heart and a dead woman's name on her lips.

"That's very generous of you," I said quietly.

Elora shrugged. "It's not generosity. It's survival." She glanced toward Calista, who was laughing with one of the seamstresses, her red gown blazing like a warning. "Some fights aren't worth having."

\-—————————————

The doors swung open.

Prince Evander stood in the doorway, looking every bit the perfect Prince. His pale hair was disheveled, his blue eyes bright with urgency.

He had been looking for me.

"Lira."