“Pardon?” my father asked, making the same mistake I did and looked up to meet the dragon’s eyes. He maintained eye contact longer than I did, but even he had to look away.

“Is there something wrong with you now? Are you dying? Are you worried about her safety? Surely you do not think we would allow a child to run about unsupervised?” the dragon asked, sounding more interested in my father’s answer than in the one he was given.

“No, my lord. Nothing of the sort,” he answered.

“Then you can continue your post for several centuries more. With as many families in Europe, surely they can do without one girl,” the dragon reasoned in a tone that threatened against descent.

“Of course, I am just confused, Master Harok. I am sure she will be of great use to you when she comes of age, but I do not understand why my daughter specifically,” my father elaborated.

“You do not even know what I want from her, and you think she will do well. Where did this confidence come from, Medvedev?” Harok said, avoiding the questions posed to him.

My father was not sure how to answer the question, and right as he opened his mouth to give any answer at all, the dragon laughed. The room itself shook; dust and pebbles fell from the ceiling, and his laugh boomed off the walls.

“I am sure she will do well enough. I won’t be asking anything too grand of her. As to her in particular, she wasn’t chosen alone. The Nest is creating a plan, and she will be one of many gears in place,” Harok explained.

When the dragon first said he wanted me, I was excited. The conversation between the two made me feel as if I was missing context, but the fact a dragon wanted me for something personal kindled a sense of pride within me. At once, my mind wondered why he chose me. I wondered if it was because I was making more progress in my magic training than Griste made me feel. Perhaps it was something special I possessed that I was unaware of. To hear I was one of many and not because of anything in particular drained such feelings in an instant, and my head drooped.

“Medvedev, the little one, come here; let me see your face,” Harok ordered.

Not expecting to be called on, I stumbled to my feet, nearly falling over as I moved next to my father in front of the orb. Harok's face twisted into the closest thing a dragon could have to a smile as he watched me.

“Yes Har-” I started, only to be cut off when my father jabbed me in the ribs to silence me. A glance over at him for comfort or what to do resulted in him shaking his head.

“Look me in the eye, child.”

Despite the direct order, I was hesitant to follow it. I wanted to do everything in my power to avoid the sensation that came from meeting his eyes. Yet I knew refusing was not an option for me. Even ignoring what my father would do, it was not out of the question that Harok could force me through his magic.

The constriction of everything once more took hold as I followed the dragon’s order, and it perplexed me that I could do so at all. In silence, the two of us looked at each other, both passing judgment on one another’s appearance.

I could only imagine what he thought of me, but I knew that what I felt toward him was fear. Everything about his face seemed designed to invoke fear in those who looked at him. His scales were ashy, as if the victims of his fiery breath clung to them, and his frame loomed over everything in the room despite only his face showing through the orb. His eyes contributed to the fear mongering and did not differ from a wolf stalking its prey.

It was that glare that made every instinct tell me I needed to run. No matter what my instincts told me, the constriction prevented me from pursuing them, forcing me to remain planted against my will. The best I could do was shift in place, something Harok took pleasure in.

I lasted longer than I thought I would—a few minutes at least—but before long, it became too much, and my body forced my head away. In the back of my head, I could feel a sense of victory that was not my own.

“I believe you will do nicely indeed,” he mused, a laugh hidden within his tone.

“May I ask what you want me for?” I inquired, finding it hard to make my voice audible.

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“Is your daughter needed for any public relations? How long can she disappear for without drawing suspicion?” Harok asked instead.

“There are a few social gatherings in the coming months, but it would not be difficult to say she’s preoccupied,” my father answered.

In an instant, a look of understanding spread across his face as he realized why Harok was asking.

“You wish to take her?”

“Just for a short while, a short while by your standards, that is. If everything goes well, she will be back within a few days, though you should prepare for her to be gone for longer,” the dragon explained.

I’m going to be taken somewhere? Where? I wondered, knowing I wouldn’t get an answer if I vocalized my question.

“When will she be leaving?” my father asked.

“Today, preferably, but I’ll understand if you must take time to get her business in order,” the dragon replied.

“I understand. And what of the magic tutor we hired for her? What shall we do with him?”

“The skinwalker? He was the only one who would take up the job, correct? Fire him. You will have no need for him any longer. While you will not be receiving another dragonoid, I believe you have redeemed yourself enough to recruit someone of more…reputable standing,” Harok dismissed.

The look on my father’s face told me he wanted to protest the issue further, but either out of an unwillingness to bring it up or because he saw the merits of the argument, he remained silent.

“Of course, my lord. There will be a few things we must get in order, so I must apologize for not being able to send her off right away,” he said.

“Do what you must.”

Without waiting for a response, the face of the dragon dissipated into the sphere as it returned to its original image. The moment it did, I found I could breathe once again, and I started gasping for air as my bodily functions returned to normal. My father was better off than I was, but I still noticed him let out a sigh as his own breath normalized.

“Are dragons normally that aloof?” I asked between gasps of air.

“They are beings beyond our understanding, Guinevere. What you perceive as aloofness is a mind working on a higher scale than we will ever achieve,” he answered, “Now come. We must get you ready. If we work fast enough, we can send you off by nightfall.”

—

When my father told my mother what Harok wanted from me, her face was a mix of pride and sadness. Before I could ask her why she felt that way, the preparations swept me off my feet.

Because Harok did not give us the exact amount of time I would be away for, we packed a few changes of clothes, all of which had self-cleaning enchantments, in case my time ran longer than expected.

Aside from clothes, I could bring along a few trinkets for the sake of comfort and entertainment. I was forbidden from taking certain things, which I now know was to safeguard anything of true value, but at the time I was annoyed all I could bring was a few books, one of which was the French book Griste threw at me.

Contrary to what I was expecting, there wasn’t any food added to my supplies. I found it hard to believe there would be food available for me to eat. I did not know what dragons ate, but I was not confident I could digest what they did.

When I asked why, I was told the dragons—or rather, their servants—would provide me with any energy I needed through magic supplements.

Only after things calmed down and the packing wrapped up could the emotions of the situation sink in. For the first time in my life, I was heading somewhere far away. Not only was it beyond the bounds of Russia, it was somewhere I knew of but did not have a full understanding of, somewhere where I would no longer be royalty. I did not know what would wait for me, let alone how to act among those I had been told were my betters. If my interaction with Harok was anything to go by, I wasn’t sure if I could survive, let alone be of any use.

There was also the question of who else would be there. The mention of servants to the dragons intrigued me, but I did not know who they would be. I found it laughable that they could be other humans, but I was not sure if that meant there would be other creatures or smaller dragons.

It was a relief to know I was not alone in my worries. My mother was the most vocal of my parents, wrapping her arms around me in a hug at every opportunity. She would repeat how proud she was of me and how my trip meant great things for my future, but I soon realized she wasn’t saying those things to convince me.

If not for the circumstances, I would have found her clinginess to be annoying and would have pushed her away at every opportunity. All things considered, however, I let her hold me and felt no urge to free myself.

Father was better, leaning toward the congratulatory side of things, but I saw cracks in his facade. He paced around whatever room I was in, as if looking for something to do to give off the appearance he was busy despite doing little. I caught him staring at me numerous times, only for him to break away when he realized I knew. He would open his mouth to say something, only to veer off to repeat one of the many things he said before as the words he wanted to say evaded him.

Dragoslava was the one I could not get an exact read on. I knew from the start she would not wear her emotions on her sleeve like my parents. Even though she had softened since I asked her about her origins, I would still describe her as cold. However, through her stoicism, I noticed she was slow when packing up my luggage. What should have been a five-minute job stretched out to twenty minutes.

As much as I appreciated the sentiments, everyone’s behavior made me feel like I was going to be gone for longer than I thought, and all of it added to my own sense of nervousness about the situation. For a moment, I confused it with dread.