The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 24

LIRA

Down the back stairwell.

Through the halls I’d only been once.

The castle groaned in the night, the walls pressing in on me like they knew where I was going. I kept walking, through the secret tunnels, past the cold hallways and then down, deeper and deeper.

The air changed.

Colder.

Damp.

The voice didn’t speak again, but I could feel it tugging at me like an invisible thread tied around my ribs.

And then I saw it.

The mouth of the cave.

Hidden behind the tangle of old ivy near the northern edge of the castle cliffs. I remembered this place. My first night here. The dragon.

I hesitated.

My fingers trembled as I pushed past the ivy and stepped inside. The scent of earth and ash filled my nose, and the darkness swallowed me whole.

“Lira…” the voice whispered again, this time louder, vibrating through the walls.

I moved toward it, step by step, until I reached the cavern where the dragon had once stood. The torches flared to life, no one had lit them.

My breath caught.

The shadows shifted, and then I saw it.

Coiled around the rocks, massive and ancient, its scales glowing faintly like embers in the dark.

The dragon.

Its golden eyes opened, glowing like twin suns in the black.

“You came,” it said, the voice deep and echoing inside my head.

I took a step back.

“You… you called for me.”

“Yes,” it said. “You heard me.”

“How do you know my name?” I asked. “What do you want from me?”

The dragon blinked slowly, then lowered its massive head until its snout was level with me. Its breath was hot, sweet, and smoky.

“I do not want,” it said. “I waited.”

“For what?” I whispered.

“For you,” it rumbled. “The girl who carries the fire of vengeance in her blood. The one whose fire is so like mine.”

My heart skipped.

“What are you talking about?”

“You came into this palace wearing a mask. But underneath is someone else. A name tied to broken oaths and buried secrets. A name the Dragon King hoped to erase.”

I stared at it, stunned.

“My name is Lira Vale.”

It tilted its head.

“No. That is the name you chose for yourself. But it is not the one you were born with.”

The torches flickered. Something shifted beneath my skin, a strange heat blooming in my chest.

“You know the truth,” the dragon said. “Even if you’ve never spoken it aloud. You know why you are here. I can see it in your eyes, the anger and hatred you hold for this place, these people."

My throat felt tight.

“I came here for revenge,” I whispered. “For my father. For what they did to him.”

“Yes,” the dragon said. “But revenge is only the beginning. The palace rots from within, and the true war has not yet begun. But you, you are the flame that will light this place."

I looked into its eyes. They were ancient. Sad.

“Why me?” I asked.

“Because you are the storm,” it said. “And the storm is waking.”

Then the dragon lowered its massive claw and pressed it against the cavern floor.

A spark pulsed beneath my feet, golden and alive. The cave lit up for a second, revealing carvings I hadn’t seen before.

A girl. With a crown on her head made of flame.

A serpent curled around her feet.

A throne split down the middle.

I stepped back, shaking. “What is this?”

“Your future,” the dragon said. “Unless you choose to change it.”

Then everything went still. The torches died. The cave went dark again.

And the dragon disappeared deep into the cave.

I stood alone in the silence, my heart racing, my body trembling.

I didn’t know what any of it meant.

But I knew one thing for certain.

I wasn’t just fighting to stay in this competition anymore.

I was part of something bigger, something older than the throne itself.

....................

The morning sun was far too bright for someone carrying the weight of a dragon’s prophecy.

I walked along the gravel path toward the garden where the other girls were already gathering for tea. My slippers crunched softly beneath me, but in my head, all I could hear was the dragon’s voice.

You are the storm.

My fingers trembled around the silk fan tucked into my sash. I hadn’t slept. Not really. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw fire curling up the palace walls and a crown of flame sitting on my own head.

It was madness.

Wasn’t it?

The wind tugged gently at my skirts, and I let out a long breath, trying to pull myself together before I reached the others. I couldn’t afford to look shaken. Not when the girls already saw me as the weakest link.

I rounded a corner near the rose trellis, head down, lost in my thoughts and nearly collided with someone.

“Oh!” I gasped, stumbling back.

A strong hand reached out and steadied me.

“My apologies, Lady Lira,” came the warm voice I’d come to recognise instantly. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

I looked up, and there he was.

Prince Evander.

Wearing no crown, no formal coat, just a pale ivory shirt rolled at the sleeves and an amused smile that dimpled one cheek. His eyes, always brighter in the sunlight, crinkled at the corners.

“It's, It's fine,” I stammered, brushing back a strand of hair. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

He tilted his head.

“That much is clear. You looked like you were walking straight through a battlefield.”

If only he knew.

“I was thinking,” I said quickly. “About... floral arrangements.”

Evander chuckled, his lips quirking.

“Floral arrangements. Of course.” He fell into step beside me as I turned toward the garden again.

I didn’t know why he kept doing that, showing up when I least expected it. But somehow, every time I crossed paths with Prince Evander, my shoulders loosened just a little.

“So tell me,” he said with mock seriousness, “was the rose plotting rebellion against the peony again?”

I blinked at him, then laughed. Really laughed. The sound startled even me.

He grinned.

“There. That’s better.”

“What is?”

“You,” he said simply. “Smiling.”

I looked away, cheeks flushing. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” I shook my head. “People are watching.”

“I don’t see anyone here but you and me,” he said. “And I don’t particularly care what the hedges think.”

I snorted.

He stepped in front of me then, stopping me gently with a hand at my elbow.

And then, before I could react, he reached up and brushed his fingers across my cheek.

It was a soft, lingering touch. The kind you didn’t expect from a prince, especially not one surrounded by rules and titles and a throne in the distance.

The warmth of his hand on my skin sent a jolt down my spine.

I blinked up at him.