“If you persist in refusing to shift to your flying form, I do have ways to force you,” he said pleasantly, pouring himself some tea and not offering any to her.

She twisted her hands together behind her back and pulled on the same fear-born strength that had carried her through spying on her husband for three treacherous years. Her life was on the line again, in a different way, but she would not meet it cowering.

“I personally do not need you to shift, you understand. I will make you my queen and Empress of Iskaryyva, either way. Unfortunately, the people of Watt will not believe your claim to their land unless you do. The magical connection needs to be formed, and for that, you need to shift. You need to fly.”

She took a deep breath. “Are you not worried I will just fly away?”

His smile grew even colder. “That’s what harpoons are for,” he said calmly.

She managed not to flinch.

He sat back with his tea held in both hands and studied her intently for a long moment. “Once I have mated with the queen of Watt, you will be queen of Iskaryyva as well.” He waved a hand around, indicating the opulence of the room and it’s priceless treasures. “Perhaps even Kaaltendt as well, eventually.” He sipped his tea. “Have you no ambition?”

She shook her head once and kept her mouth shut.

He sighed, setting down the tea and calling out for one of the guards. Agadart was not surprised when she was hauled out of the emperor’s quarters and thrown into a small room below decks. It was small and incredibly dark, and she could tell by the sounds of the ship around her that she was below the waterline. It was disconcerting and felt unnatural. Every trip she had ever taken by water had been on a vessel where she could stay well above the waterline.

The ship lurched into movement, sails obviously catching a strong wind. She lost her footing and found a small chair by dint of falling over it and smashing her face into the wall in the darkness. Snarling in frustration, she aggressively righted the chair and sat down in it, not that anybody cared.

She took a deep breath. It was not the time to panic or wallow in feelings of despair.

Why was the emperor himself there to lead the armada she had glimpsed sailing around them?

There was only one logical reason, and it was that the emperor was in the midst of making his long-awaited, entirely expected frontal assault on the Isle of Watt.

She held back a keening wail as the full force of what was going to happen hit her. Everyone she knew would likely die, and the Isle of Watt would fall, and she would never see her father again. She would never see Mani again, or Rodgardae. If she lived long enough to gaze on the shores of Kaaltendt once more, it would be to watch her country be overrun.

Biting down on her hand to quiet herself, she took several deep breaths and considered her options. None were good, and none allowed for her survival. She closed her eyes.

The duke had not resorted to torturing her to try and force her to shift, but there was no guarantee that the emperor would be so generous. There were simply not a lot of ways to force a dragon to shift to either form, though. A dragon might shift involuntarily if their mate or children were in danger, and there were a couple of drugs rumored to instigate a shift, but they were outlawed everywhere for a reason.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Of course, if one was an emperor, such matters were not a big concern.

She waited for her fate to come to her.

Yet for the next few days, nothing happened. She was fed and given a chamber pot, at least, but otherwise simply kept in the dark like a piece of luggage. No one talked to her or even looked at her. From what she could tell she knew the ship was moving fast through the waters at an unbroken pace, and suspected that some dragons had been put in harnesses to pull it along, as she had read that was a common thing that the Iskaryyvan navy did simply because they had the numbers to spare. She tried to do some simple calisthenics just to keep from atrophying, but there wasn’t much she could do when she did not have enough room to spread both arms out at the same time. Sleep was difficult as the floor was slightly damp and the one blanket she had been provided with did not do much, but eventually exhaustion won out and she slept fitfully, sitting up in the chair until she fell out of it.

Worse, though, was the day the explosions started. She had no idea what time it was, just that it was some point during the day due to the cacophony of noise from the upper decks. The explosions were far in the distance from the ship she was on, which made sense given the presence of the emperor on board, but unmistakable. There were multiple shots of what she assumed were cannons being fired, and then occasionally singular explosions that she assumed were bombs dropped by high fliers.

Still, no one came to let her out. She got food later which she presumed was dinner, another plate overflowing with too much for one non-dragon human to eat, accompanied by the glares of the sailors who delivered it and the marines who protected them. Agadart figured that they were all angry at her for not shifting into a full dragon form to please their emperor.

She kept reminding herself that it was not her problem.

The ship sailed nonstop, with the explosions getting sometimes closer, sometimes further away. She had finally been reduced to sleeping on the damp floor, and the blanket was not enough to keep her warm, so by the third, or possibly fourth day, she was chilled to her bones and felt like a fever was creeping up on her. She was glad she wasn’t a dragon because the temptation to shift, if only to keep warm, would have been too great for her to deny.

Instead she was shivering on the floor, sniveling with snot all over her face, when one of the emperor’s guards opened the door, gave a look of pure disgust, then grabbed her arm to yank her to her feet. Slightly dizzy and numb, she stumbled face-first into him. He shoved her off, grabbed her arm again, and started walking down the narrow hallway. He did not let go of her as they went up very steep stairwells that were more like ladders. If it was the same route she took days before down into the bowels of the ship, she did not recognize it.

She could barely feel her feet, though, so if the guard had not kept a tight hold of her, she was sure she would have tripped a dozen times already. Instead, she was hauled out into the open and had to close her eyes for a moment due to the brightness. She blinked them open to clear blue skies, but no sails. The heavy canvas was all rolled up tight except for a few smaller sails toward the aft. She kept blinking as the guard shoved her to stand in place, and as she blinked again, the emperor came into focus. He was standing in the middle of what was, she realized, the captain’s deck, the highest deck on the ship. Once again he was wearing a sumptuous double-breasted long coat with golden dragons and roses embroidered all over it, although the coat itself was bright blue instead of red.

“Here we are,” he said, motioning out to the water beyond.

Squinting, Agadart stepped closer to the railing. One of the guards kept a heavy hand on her shoulder, probably assuming she might jump overboard. Instead, she was staring out at the stunning view in front of her.

Hundreds of ships, possibly thousands, most flying the emperor’s colors, stretched as far as she could see, and flying above them were twice as many dragons. It was a full invasion force, all of the emperor’s reserves coming out to play. It was breathtaking in the worst, most ominous way, but what grabbed her attention was what laid beyond.

Just past the armada by a few miles were the glittery, glistening, deep green crystals of the Peveillin Cliffs of Watt.