The Dragon Queen

Eight: Prince George

Eight

Prince George

Mother has gone all out in planning Ashden’s eighteenth. We were told the theme in advance and expected to dress accordingly. The theme was Versailles, and everyone was dressed as eighteenth-century nobles. The ball room was full of ribbons, white, powdered wigs, women in large, luminous dresses and men wearing stockings, and frilly shirts. There were towers of champagne in between, and candelabra’s lighting the room. An orchestra played Coldplay’s Viva La Vida and the lords and ladies of the Vincian court danced to celebrate Ashden.

On the back of the ballroom wall, hung a portrait of Ashden that had been done that year to celebrate her becoming my fiancé. She wore a long, ball gown style dress with flowing sleeves making her look like she was Anastasia’s sister or something.

I stood off to the side with my Mother, and Father, greeting our guests as they arrived.

“I saw Ashden’s dress earlier,” commented my Mother, Queen Helene, “she looks stunning. Make certain that you tell her so.”

“Of course,” I said, “you know I always appreciate her beauty.”

“She kissed you,” my Mother whispered, as though it were a secret. In fact, it had been on the front page of the newspaper and was now one of the most liked photos on i********:. “That means something. If she has feelings for you, or is showing interest, you must act on it. Perhaps, if you impregnate her, we can push the marriage through sooner.”

I smirked. “You won’t mind the scandal?”

There were worse things, I supposed. Like word getting out that I was almost certain that Ashden was secretly in love with her guard. And that they communicated in the secret language of love songs which they thought no one but them knew. I saw the album in her room, I heard her playing the song in the afternoon as she dressed for the party. I wanted to destroy the record player, and burn the albums until they were a melted mess on the floor. But none of that would matter after tonight. I was certain about that.

Mother rolled her eyes. “Nonsense. As long as there’s an heir, no one will mind, and we can always lie about the child’s age to make it suit. I want grandchildren, and I feel that it’s important that we secure this alliance.”

“Have there been threats made?” I asked. “Anu apparently started training Ashden.”

“No, no direct threats,” whispered Queen Helene, “but you know with those dragon’s eggs arriving, it’s put everyone on edge. Anu takes her duty to the Dragon Slayers very seriously, as well she should.”

I frowned. “As well she should? What does that mean?”

“Well, of course, everyone knows that we deny dragons existed for as long as they did. But Anu’s family was killed by dragons. Her mother, her sister. They went to Continuar because her father was looking into some trade business with some dwarves, something about diamonds. While they were traveling, their car was ripped into by dragons. Her sister and Mother were burned alive, and somehow, her father managed to escape to get them both out. Why do you think Sir Morgan never leaves his house anymore? It’s because his face was horribly melted off trying to save his family.”

“But the dragons….they’re not….I mean, they can’t shapeshift or something, right?”

Queen Helene rolled her eyes. “You’ve heard that silly myth about Brantley, haven’t you?”

I nodded.

“Dragons are monsters. Creatures. There’s not a bit of human about them. I mean, what human would give birth to an egg?” Queen Helene said. “No, any nonsense you’ve heard about dragons being shapeshifters you can put out of your head. Dragons are filthy, disgusting beasts. If you’re worried about Ashden, she’s a lovely girl, nothing more. Those rumors were started by those who oppose the alliance.”

Those who appose the alliance. Like a witch doctor, who lived on the fringes of society in an old abandoned plantation house that had once been owned by Vincian slave owners. A mad man with a crocodile as a pet. Of course, someone like him would want to put that idea into my head.

I needed to find Lancelot, and we needed to stop the plan immediately.

Just then, I saw Ashden coming down the gold and marble palace staircase. She too wore an eighteenth-century dress, one that would have made Marie Antoinette jealous. The dress was golden, and she had opted not to wear a white wig although her blond hair was curled in the manor of an eighteenth-century noblewoman.

Mother had timed the orchestra perfectly, having Taylor Swifts “Enchanted” playing in the background as she came down. The song she’d played on repeat the summer that it first came out when she was nine.

Around Ashden’s neck was the rose necklace I’d given her, the charm nestled in between the crevice of those perfect breasts of hers. I’d never been more envious of a piece of jewelry in my life then I was at that moment.

She took my breath away, and I walked towards her and offered her my arm. “You’re perfect,” I said.

She blushed. “I can’t breathe,” she confessed.

I smirked. “We’ll fix that later, once we retire to my chambers and that dress on my floor.”

At that exact moment, Lancelot came down the stairs following her. He too, was dressed as an eighteenth-century nobleman. Except, his outfit was completely black, excluding the ruffles and tights that he wore.

He came up to Ashden. “Little Princess,” he said, “I’ve gotten you a gift.”

She bit her lip. “Lance, you didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Of course, I did. You always knit me those lovely sweaters every year, I am simply returning the favor.” He pulled out a box that he’d been hiding behind his back. He pulled out a blue Tiffany’s box, almost as long as mine. I scowled, hoping it wasn’t another necklace and that I’d have to kill him later.

Hesitantly, Ashden opened it as though expecting to find a snake in there. Inside, there was a bracelet. It was silver, I noted, which seemed a strange choice and there was a little cross charm dangling from it.

“Give me your wrist, darling, and I’ll help put it on.” He took her right hand in his, and he placed the bracelet on there. Then, he kissed her hand and I wanted a blush spread across her cheeks.

Knowing what she knew I wanted, I waited for her reaction. For her to storm off angrily, or to retreat into herself. Instead, Ashden smiled and kissed Lancelot on the cheek. “Thank you, Lance. It’s lovely.” She glanced toward the ballroom, a flicker of fear in her eyes. Then she took a deep breath. “Let’s go, shall we?”  

She looped her arms through both of ours, the meaning clear. She was allowing us both to be her escorts, which meant she was accepting what I wanted. I looked to Lancelot, who grinned, and the two of us walked into the ballroom.

There was a hush over the lords and ladies of the court, and then the orchestra struck up with “Golden Years” playing in the background. We spent the night dancing together, the three of us. All thoughts of Haven and Samael out of my head.

We drank champagne, and ate cake, and I watched her face light up in delight as she opened the presents given to her. In the early hours of the morning, between night and dawn, we drunkenly stumbled into my chambers.

It was there Lancelot and I undressed her together. And in my bed, we shook the stars until they fell. Then, in the morning, the world crumbled in on us.