The Dragon Queen Selection Chapter 72

LIRA

I held my breath. I was perfectly still. Waiting for the next statement. For the words that would come out of Evander's mouth.

Evander inhaled sharply. “Aveline... I think you should leave. I have something very important I need to do."

Aveline paused. “You’re deflecting. What's wrong?"

“I’m just tired,” Evander said firmly. “I don't want to talk about any of this."

That stopped her.

“Fine,” Aveline replied quietly. “Pretend you're not interested.”

I held my breath.

"I'm not. It's been a long day."

Finally, Aveline exhaled. “You’re acting strange.”

She turned toward the door.

“I’ll see you later,” she said. “And stop pacing.”

The door opened. Closed.

Silence fell like a held breath.

For several heartbeats, nothing moved.

Then the wardrobe door creaked open.

Light flooded in, and Evander’s face appeared before me, pale, tense, eyes searching mine urgently.

“Sorry about that,” he said softly.

“It's alright,” I whispered.

He reached out as if to steady me, but I stepped past him instead, my legs trembling.

“I need to go,” I said quickly. “There’s...there’s something I need to do.”

“Lira..."

“If it's about what you mentioned earlier, I can’t talk about this now,” I said, already moving toward the door. “Please. Not now.”

He didn’t stop me.

I barely remembered the walk back to my chambers. My mind was a storm of fragments, the way they had casually mentioned my father, Aveline implying that my father wasn't a traitor, my father opening the vault, it was all a bit too much.

One thing was clear, the crown had lied.

And my father had died because of it.

When I reached my room, I brought out a pen and paper, eager to write a letter to my brother. I thought of what I would write, I still didn't have the full information.

I needed to find out what Princess Aveline meant.

If she knew my father wasn't a traitor. I barely write a word when there was a knock on my door.

I quickly hid the papers underneath my bed and went towards the door.

Elora burst in, breathless. “You will not believe what I just heard!!!"

I looked up slowly. “Try me.”

She crossed the room, eyes bright with gossip. “Selene remember Lady Selene?”

“Yes,” I said absently. “The one who left early.”

“She’s married,” Elora said. “Already. To a merchant. Young, wealthy, apparently madly in love.”

I blinked. “That was fast. Didn't she just leave a few weeks ago?"

“Apparently,” Elora said. “It was love at first sight. They're perfect for each other."

I nodded faintly.

“And I've got another need too.,” Elora continued, lowering her voice. “It's about Saphira. They say she’s in talks to be engaged too.”

My heart skipped. “To whom?”

“Some foreign ambassador,” Elora said. “Respected. Kind, from what people are saying. It seems… rushed.”

Relief washed over me so sharply it almost hurt.

“I’m happy for her,” I murmured. “She deserves that."

Elora studied me. “You sound like you know more than you’re saying.”

I met her gaze. “After all the nasty rumours about her, doesn't she deserve some peace?"

She didn’t press.

"You're right. Saphira was a mean girl, but she didn't deserve that."

After, she sat beside me. “Don't forget tomorrow's lessons. We have assessments because of it. Have you been reading?"

I stiffened.

“Apparently it’s important,” Elora said lightly. “They’re emphasizing dragons. And this assessment will be tougher than the rest."

“Of course they are,” I murmured.

After a while, Elora stood. “I should study. You should do the same."

“I’ll try.”

She left.

The silence returned.

Then, she stirred.

"Lira."

The voice brushed the edge of my thoughts, low and insistent.

Not now, I pleaded silently.

The pressure increased.

I squeezed my eyes shut. Please. Not now.

I stood abruptly and slipped out of my room, needing air, space, anything to quiet the dragon in my head.

Far away from the palace and out in the cool open space, the dragon's voice was nothing but a whisper in my mind, drowned by the sound of the cool breeze. I took a walk to the secluded gardens.

The garden was cool and dim, lanterns casting soft gold light over hedges and stone paths.

I walked without direction until a familiar figure stepped from the shadows.

He looked wrecked. All anger and sharp edges, worn thin in a way that made my breath catch. He was a storm barely contained. He was wearing a plain white shirt and dark breeches, his dark hair was wild like he had been running his hand in it for hours. When his electric blue eyes landed on me, he stopped dead when he saw me, the air between us snapping taut.

"Lady Lira." His voice was gravel, a low scrape against the silence. "What are you doing here?"

"I could be asking you the same thing your highness," I breathed back, the challenge clear.

Something shifted in his eyes, a flicker of heat, a surrender. His gaze dropped to my mouth.

"Are you all right?" he asked, the he asked, the question rough. There was a look in his eyes, a type of hunger I'd only seen once, that night when we danced in the fields to no music.

"I should be asking you that question."

He closed the distance in one fluid, predatory stride, until the heat of him bled through my clothes. "Tell me what yoh think. Do I look alright?"

He didn't. I took a step back.

"I don't know." I murmured.

"We didn't finish our dance last time." He said as he reached for me, pulling me closer to him in one swift motion. I didn't resist him, my fingers curling into the hard muscle of his tunic.

Our eyes met. I couldn't tear my eyes off his. His electric blue eyes travelled to my mouth.

Before I knew it, his mouth was on mine, and it was not careful. It was conquest and surrender fused into one hot, searing brand. He kissed like he fought, all consuming, relentless, swallowing my gasp as his tongue claimed mine. His hands were everywhere, one tangling in my hair, tipping my head back to deepen the angle, the other splaying possessively against the arch of my spine, crushing me to him.

I didn't know what came over me, but I met him thrust for thrust, taste for taste, my hands clawing at his shoulders, needing to touch the strength l'd only ever seen from afar, only ever admired from the sidelines was something I could now touch.

He tasted of night air and something darkly, dangerously male. The hard planes of his body pinned me, and I felt the powerful, unmistakable evidence of his desire press against me, that made my knees buckle.

He broke the kiss only to trail his mouth down the frantic pulse in my throat, his teeth scraping a path that made me cry out. "Cassian..."

"Say it again," he growled against my skin, his breath a scalding brand. "I want to hear your name on my lips."

The words were a lightning strike. Heat pooled low in my belly, molten and urgent.

We were both breathing in ragged, shattered gasps when he finally pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were pure fire, pupils blown wide with a hunger that mirrored the ache deep within me.

"This is a very, very bad idea," he whispered, his thumb tracing my swollen lower lip.

"The worst," I agreed, and surged up to recapture his mouth, pouring every ounce of my own hunger into the kiss.