The Dragon King's Prize

Don't Stand So Close To Me

I was raised a princess, therefore I knew my role to a tee. Smile politely, make small talk with your dinner companions, compliment the hostess on the food and table settings, and never directly engage the help. 

By the end of the meal, I had broken every rule and failed miserably at all attempts to prove my upbringing.

To be fair, I don’t think any of the other princesses would have done better in the same set of circumstances. 

We all sat down and although I started with a smile on my face, it faltered when I caught the queen staring at me as if there was a cockroach at her dinner table. She is not a fan of me; this much is clear. Why, though, is a mystery to me. 

“Won’t you have some wine, Princess Renata?” she asked smoothly. 

I agreed, because frankly I could use a little social lubrication, but my answer made her curl her lip in distaste. I took a small sip and set the glass back down, determined to show that I wasn’t a lush. 

I turned to Francesca and asked her how her studies were going. She started to tell me about a book she was reading, but again the queen spoiled my efforts. 

“Francesca needs to apply herself better and get her nose out of those silly books,” the queen scoffs. 

I could see that it made Francesca self-conscious to be called out in front of me, so I tried to smooth things over. 

“I loved books as well when I was your age, in fact I still do. Of course the ones I liked best were full of romance and adventure, but I also enjoyed some texts that were about science, astronomy and philosophy,” I said to her and then added, “Maybe I can have some of them brought over, with your mother’s approval of course.”

I thought I handled that beautifully. I made Francesca feel like she had an ally while also acknowledging that more serious books were important too. I even went so far as to respectfully add the queen into the equation. 

“That won’t be necessary. We have the most comprehensive library in all the kingdoms,” the queen replies, looking down her nose at me.

“Mother, shall we discuss the guest list for the wedding? I had some ideas about seating placement, so we can include everyone and don’t have any incidents like we did at mine,” Faye interjects and adds with a smile, “Although it was rather funny to see Father’s face smeared with cake.” 

For a moment I see the queen’s gaze soften and I wonder about her husband. Obviously he had to have passed if Drake was now king, but I’m curious how. If Faye and I become a little closer, then maybe I could ask her one day.

I sneak a glance at my future husband and almost fall out of my chair from the intense heat coming from his eyes. He doesn’t look away but continues to stare at me as though he’d like to eat me for dinner instead of the venison being served. I blush under his gaze and look away quickly. 

“This venison is cooked perfectly and the sauce is divine,” I say to the queen, as if she cooked it herself. 

“I choose to eat mine without the sauce. I prefer not to give my seamstress a reason to let out the bodice of my dress,” she replies with a raised eyebrow and a marked look towards my hips. 

My cheeks heat with embarrassment and I go back to eating in silence. As it stands, she is winning this game of wits. 

The queen = 3.

Me = 0. 

Then again, I’m making it a point not to play. Maybe to earn her respect, I need to level the playing field a little. I take a nice long gulp of my wine and gracefully put it back down. 

“I have many years to worry about such things. Being young does have it’s advantages,” I say sweetly, then slowly and deliberately take another succulent bite of meat. 

The queen narrows her eyes at me, but I could swear I saw a gleam of respect in her eyes. I notice King Drake watching me eat and I nearly drop my fork when he licks his lips. I avert my stare elsewhere, and that’s when I notice a familiar face. 

“So good to see you again, Eddie! I almost didn’t recognize you, it’s been so long,” I smile warmly at the young gentlemen serving another course to the queen. 

“Thank you, Princess. Nice to see you too,” he mumbles quietly and then continues his task. The queen looks up at him with a judgy squint and he mumbles again, this time an apology for speaking out of turn in front of her. 

As soon as the queen looks back in my direction, he gives me a wink and I grin. Then he immediately makes his exit when he sees the look the king is giving him. That’s interesting, I think. It’s almost as if King Drake is acting jealous. 

“What is your relation to Edward?” Faye asks politely. 

“He was a stable boy at my home long ago. We shared the love and respect of my mare, Cleo. I would sneak her apples from the kitchen, but she never whinnied for me like she did when Eddie was around. She had a crush on him, I think,” I say with a chuckle. 

“That’s preposterous,” the queen mutters under her breath. I choose to ignore her and continue with my tale. 

“I’m glad he’s moved up in the world. He was always so kind to-” I start to say, but I’m interrupted by a loud clattering sound coming from the king’s end of the table.

He seems to be enraged for some reason. He stands up with an angry glare and the whole table goes silent, waiting for his command. 

“I’ve work to do,” he says curtly. With a short bow to his mother, he takes his leave and we all sit, stunned. 

“I wonder what set him off,” Faye says with a cheeky smile. 

“He is the king. He has many responsibilities. His shoulders bear the weight of it for us all,” the queen reprimands. 

The rest of the evening is mundane as Faye and the queen quietly discuss the guest list ad nauseum. I drink more wine and eat a little of everything that’s put in front of me. The food truly was remarkable and after seven courses, I could barely eat dessert. Plus, I want to save room for the hot chocolate. 

The queen and Francesca retire to their rooms and Faye leads me down a long hallway to the kitchens, where there is a robust man with silver hair puttering around the kitchen. He seemed to be cataloging his supplies and planning out the next day’s meals, muttering to himself and lost in his thoughts. 

“Chef Roberto?” Faye calls to him. 

“Yes?” he answers in a grumpy tone, but then he turns around and a huge grin splits his face, making his mustache look comical. 

“Ah! Princess Faye! What can I do for you?” he asks jovially. 

“I was hoping you could prepare some hot chocolate for myself and the future queen, Princess Wren,” she says by way of introduction. I like that she gave him my nickname instead of the more formal one. 

“Future queen? I had heard something about that. Can’t believe that rascal is getting married...bout time though, no doubt about that,” he replies and then turns to me, “I hope you are as strong willed as you are beautiful, milady. The king will need someone to keep him in check now and again.”

I can’t help but be besotted with his personality. He’s like the grandfather I never had, so warm and yet feisty at the same time. I am immediately endeared to him and I have a feeling this kitchen will become a safe place for me when the king or his family get me out of sorts. 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Chef Roberto,” I say and hold my hand out. After a beat I add, “And I promise to give the king a run for his money in your honor.” 

Instead of kissing it, he shakes it heartily and his booming laughter carries across the room. It’s infectious and Faye and I find ourselves giggling along with him. 

“I like her already,” he remarks. 

“Can you have someone bring the chocolate up to Wren’s room for us?” Faye asks and then kisses him on the cheek, making him blush. 

“Anything for you, dear Faye,” he replies, then gives me a jaunty wink before turning around. 

As we make our way up the stairs, I get another case of the giggles. I think the wine is going to my head. 

“I can’t believe Chef Roberto called the king a rascal!” I exclaim delightedly as we step into my room.

“He’s the only one who would ever get away with it. He’s been with our family for years and my father considered him more of a friend than staff,” she says fondly. 

She goes quiet at the mention of her father and makes quick work of getting me sorted and into one of her borrowed night dresses. The knock at the door signals our treat has finally made it and my mouth waters at the smell when Faye hands me a cup of the dark and sweet liquid. 

“I’ve never tasted anything so incredible in my life,” I moan. 

“Agreed,” she sighs. 

We sit in companionable silence, the fire crackling and lending a warm glow to the room. She looks a little sad all of the sudden and I feel the need to comfort her. I start to put my hand on her shoulder and she stands abruptly, placing her cup on a nearby table. 

“I’m pretty tired from the day, so I will leave you to get some rest,” she announces in a too bright voice. 

“Ok. Thank you, Faye, for helping me get through today. And for everything you’ve done for me. I hope we can become friends,” I say shyly. 

“We already are, Wren,” she says with a genuine smile. 

After she leaves, I finish my chocolate and lay back on the fluffy down pillows and silky sheets, contemplating my fate. I try to get comfortable, but sleep eludes me. I’m not sure if it’s the wine or the chocolate that is making me so wired.

Or perhaps it’s the idea that somewhere, nearby, the king is laying in his bed. He probably took off his formal clothing and only has a sleeping shirt on. Or maybe he sleeps in the nude? My body warms at the thought, a pleasant tingling sensation affecting my breasts. 

Will he sleep that way when we are wed? Will he share a bed with me at all? It is common for most royal couples to have their own bedrooms, connected by a door so the queen can perform her wifely duties when called upon. But the king might have different ideas.

I shake my head and sit up. That wine must have addled my brain if I’m thinking of King Drake in this way. I will never fall asleep if these thoughts keep running through my mind. I throw the covers back and grab a shawl to keep warm in the drafty hallways. 

I make my way back downstairs. I wish I could remember where the kitchen is and get some more of that chocolate, but instead I opt to step out onto the balcony off one of the main rooms. Fresh air should clear my mind and help me get to sleep faster. I walk to the end and lean against the railing, admiring how bright and big the moon is tonight. 

I don’t hear him approach, but I sense that I’m not alone. The breeze carries a masculine, woodsy smell to my nostrils. It smells like an open fire in the middle of a pine forest, with hints of frankincense. I feel his breath on the back of my neck when he speaks. 

“You shouldn’t be running around the castle in the middle of the night wearing nothing but a night dress, princess,” he grumbles. 

“You shouldn’t sneak up on people enjoying their solitude in the evening air,” I retort. 

“Not everyone in this castle shares the same code of honor,” he replies evenly. 

“Funny, you said something similar about the ruffians in the woods when we first met. I wonder, can everyone be that bad or is it your own paranoia?” I ask.

“It’s not paranoia, it’s experience. I’ve been around longer than you, and I’m a man, so I know a thing or two of men’s motivations,” he says bitterly. 

I turn around to face him and I know instantly I’ve made a mistake. My knees nearly buckle at the sight of him. He is wearing breeches and a tunic, his chest exposed to the moonlight, making my fingers itch to touch him. His dark hair is tousled and falling over one eye, and I notice his irises are flecked with green and gold, like tiny magic flames come to life. I look down to avoid his gaze and I see he is barefoot.

“What are your motivations, your highness?” I ask boldly when I look up again. His stare doesn’t break and I find myself feeling the urge to squirm under it. 

“To protect my family and this kingdom’s people from all who mean them harm. At all costs,” he replies. 

“That’s...admirable,” I say lamely. 

“There is no cause to admire me, princess. I am a ruthless and covetous man. I take what I want, when I want, and I don’t apologize for it. Land, gold...women,” he replies in a sultry tone. 

He takes a step closer to me and my back hits the railing, trapping me between it and his body. My breath gets heavier and I look up at him from under my eyelashes. 

“Are you going to take me?” I whisper, and I hate how desperate my voice sounds. 

His eyes smolder with desire and he leans his face closer to mine so that our noses are almost touching. 

“One day soon, you are going to beg me to take you,” he whispers back. 

That word breaks into my haze of lust and I give him a sharp look. 

“I don’t beg,” I tell him with an edge. 

He just barely brushes my neck with his nose, then up my jaw and next to my ear. I clench my thighs together to try and quelch the throbbing feeling in my core. 

“You will,” he says.