As a princess, I had little room for regret.

To do so was to betray the expectations of all around me.

My conviction needed to be as unyielding as the way I slept, able only to be broken by a tug of my duvet, a swishing of the curtains and a blast of sunlight melting my face.

Indeed, if the maids who delivered me tea and snacks in the middle of the afternoon saw I was flopping around with indecision, that would just look sloppy.

However, that hardly meant I made no mistakes.

The time I secretly consumed several punnets of strawberries freshly imported from the Summer Kingdoms? … That wasn’t one of them. But my time spent doubled over during the mandatory tea party which followed was.

The tummy ache was so debilitating I was unable to fall asleep. There have been many trials I’ve experienced. Remaining conscious while the daughters of mere barons poorly lied to one another was amongst the worst of them.

Up until now, this was my most recent cause for introspection. Eating enough strawberries to result in an upset stomach. A lapse of judgement so unforeseeable that I couldn’t bear the sight of them until dessert later that day.

That memory had now been replaced.

“–Hieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!”

Yes.

I’d made another blameless mistake.

… Forgetting to prepare a wardrobe.

I couldn’t hear whatever delicate groans I was making. And neither could the very large dragon beating its wings. If it could, it’d cease propelling itself and my innocent figure wrapped in its claws to instead offer a chance to make amends.

Instead, off it went.

A colossal figure which flew with elegance and grace as it navigated the slim fissure overhead. Yet as the wind swept past my ears and all the world blurred into a passing sludge, all I could think of was the tragedy ahead.

I’d need to accept whatever amenities had been prepared by a dragon.

A troubling thought. As proficient as they were with stealing away princesses, the accommodation process afterwards was rarely up to standards.

Indeed, as the dragon broke free from the confines of its brief captivity, it was more than the moon shining closer than I’d ever seen that earned my attention.

It was the ruins hiding away the fissure beneath.

Perhaps it was once a castle. Now it was little more than vines and regret clinging to the side of a mountain like cobwebs in a forgotten corner. Shorn of both a rooftop and any sense of privacy, the dragon offered a view of the only thing worse than an inn before the beating of its wings slowed.

Then, I was given a glimpse of the service I could expect ahead.

Pwoooomph!

What remained of a floor was sent in every direction as the dragon landed.

Tiles overrun with nature cracked to reveal the roots underneath. A brave sapling which had hoped to become a tree was felled as the remains of a wall came crumbling down, wooden beams snapping in two and stone blocks practically rolling like a mound of snowballs.

It almost went unseen as the dragon’s shadow encompassed it all–myself included.

With less fanfare than when I exited my bathtub, the dragon released its hold.

I dropped enough to stumble as I fell, arms raised outwards as I skipped over a gnarled root which sought to claim my ankle where all its forest brethren had failed.

Then, I sucked in a deep breath.

A fix of my hair and a tug of my cheeks later, I turned my appalled expression towards the dragon, ready to unleash a torrent of flames it could never hope to match.

Clink.

Instead … my knee struck against a small circular table adorned with a red and white checkered tablecloth. One I was reasonably certain could not have survived a dragon landing given the tea set it bore. White porcelain, bisque with a matte finish, inoffensive enough to earn only a wrinkling of my nose. Usually.

Instead, mine was drawn to the steam rising from a pair of tea cups. An exotic aroma boasting of a faraway land, bold and without apology.

Just like the dragon which sat behind it.

“... Tea?”

With a regal voice which shook everything other than the surface of the liquid, the dragon loomed high overhead. Eyes as deep and ancient as the Emerald Sea peered down at me. And then the tea cup sat on my side of the table.

I offered no response other than a frown.

Then, just before the coughing could begin filling the silence, I idly lifted the offered tea cup, examining the scent before taking a sip.

“Hmm.”

“What do you think?”

I took in the aroma once more, then gave it a moment’s thought.

“The leaves are exceptionally high quality. There is a sweetness which follows the astringency of the first notes, like spring after winter. It is rich, yet unobtrusive. A flavour which yearns to be brash, yet has been tempered and made mellow. There are other ingredients here, small in quantity and finely ground. Flowering buds and hulled seeds. Some I recognise. A few I do not.”

I eyed the contents of the liquid.

“... Am I correct in thinking they are not from this continent?”

“You would. This is a blend consisting of 47 varieties of rare flora, some of which began only to mature when I was still an egg. Many of the ingredients can only be sourced from the Fae Realm. You may recognise the touch of who made it.”

“Oh? And who would that be?”

“The Spring Queen. This is her favoured tea.”

“I see.” I took another sip, nodded, then tossed the rest behind my shoulder. “1.5/10.”

The dragon watched the flying trail of liquid.

After a moment, a claw was raised. And a tea pot filled with a brew hundreds of years in the making shifted slightly away from me.

“How curious. I would have thought one who bore the boon of the maiden of leaves would be more receptive to her memory. You’ve a tale woven upon that ring. One I would like to hear.”

“I’m certain you do. It is a tale of my patience in the face of overwhelming shamelessness. Far from any gifts of tea, the fae have offered nothing but bricks and audacity so far.”

“A high honour. Bricks are far rarer than their tea. Did you try it?”

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

“No.”

“A shame. It’s considered quite the delicacy. You should consider partaking the next time you visit the Fae Realm.”

“Nothing fills me with more horror. There is no next. I am loath to be kidnapped by the fae. Just as I am by dragons.”

A single note of amusement filled the air.

The shortest chuckle. Yet one which could lift wilted flowers from the dirt.

“You are right to be. I have read the tales of dragons. I have even written some myself, albeit under alias. We make for fine villains. Doubly so as far as princesses are concerned. A fortunate thing that I prefer books to princesses, if still princesses to gold.”

The dragon offered a dip of its head. A note of gratitude which would be better received had the liquid in the opposing tea cup not vanish as though sipped.

“I noted your presence through the mire, Princess Juliette Contzen. And for your assistance, I offer my appreciation.”

“Your appreciation is accepted. So long as it takes a form other than words. As far as I’m aware, I have prevented a future where Ouzelia is now deeply unpopular.”

“So it might be. But there are many futures, and Virudaax the Venomous is a title which poorly holds to my scales. One should not allow peer pressure to denote one’s path in life. A thought I see you abide by.”

“I am a Contzen. And the only path I walk is the one which best suits my kingdom.”

The dragon paused, thoughts visibly swirling behind those eyes of jade.

“... Contzen, yes. I have heard much of your family. Many dynasties and kingdoms have risen and fallen, yet yours has remained despite its small–”

“Ahem.”

“–despite the many challenges which surround it.”

I placed a hand to my chest and proudly nodded.

“Indeed, we are known for our perseverance–just as much as our virtue. Hence why a dragon may be rescued from the throes of an overly proactive subject by my hand.”

“Yet in my dreams, I also heard a distant voice. I believe the word … ‘extortion’ was repeated.”

“A side effect of the terrible ordeal you have endured. One you can be rid of by providing an appropriate reward so that I can return to my kingdom. You’ll understand, I hope, that there is a difference between virtue and charity?”

The dragon prevented a snort from appearing.

Almost.

The smoke which came out was somehow flung back into its own eyes.

I found it quite amusing.

“I do. More than you would know. Yet I’m afraid I cannot reward charity with fire. Though Fleur did not care for the Queensholme Accords, I do. And I risk a wrath greater than dragons should I burn the towers which look upon your kingdom.”

“Good. Because I do not need fire for that. Only time. It’s as you say, my family perseveres above all. Fortunately, I’m nothing if not reasonable. And so for my aid as well as time currently accruing, I have a simple request.”

I brought my hands together and offered a smile. Something worth more than all the rescuing I could perform. But in this matter, I would allow it as a bonus service.

“I’d like to borrow Coppelia.”

The dragon stilled.

It didn’t prevent the tea cup from magically draining or refilling again.

“... Is that so? How long for?”

“Not long. Only permanently.”

I waited for the immediate agreement.

Oddly, it came in the form of silence.

“I see my librarian has made a reasonable impression on you. I find this curious, considering her job does not require endearing herself to those residing where she goes. Yet while there is much I can offer for politeness, if not obligation’s sake, I'm afraid this does not include loaning out my staff.”

“Then rejoice, for the task I have in mind is little different to the one she has now.”

“Her task involves the procurement of overdue books.”

“Overdue forbidden books,” I corrected the dragon, while possibly pointing towards my kingdom. “And by wasting her talents elsewhere, you’d be actively depriving yourself of all the darkest texts which remain in my realm. Ones so foul you would never leave the sanctuary of slumber again. And I would be willing to discuss a loan agreement for them all … providing my fair and reasonable stipulations are met.”

A moment of silence passed.

And then–any tiles yet to be broken finally cracked.

The dragon rose.

Like a receptionist snapping to attention, it lifted itself upon its hind legs, pouring its shadow over all the ruins. Moonlight bathed its emerald scales. Yet nothing gleamed more than the curiosity a dragon could neither pretend to not possess, nor adhere to.

“I am aware of every book held in your castles, your dungeons, your cathedral and your house of mages. I know of those written and those half-written. Those lost and those which should be lost. All I desire, I have long since come to possess or destroy.”

I strained my neck as I looked up.

Then, ignoring the discomfort and the mildly concerning creak … I raised a hand to my lips and smiled.

“Ohohoho … is that what you believe?”

A pair of jade eyes blinked at me. No answer came.

I decided to offer one instead.

“That is a very poor showing,” I said simply. “To think you would name my castles and my dungeons, yet you fail to name my libraries.”

“Your libraries are unimpressive,” came the immediate reply. “I do not mean this as an insult. Most public libraries do not concern themselves with dangerous texts. And those of any worth have long been claimed.”

“Then you’ve no knowledge of the greatest library which exists in my kingdom.”

“I know of that in Reitzlake and Aquina.”

“Meaning you’ve no knowledge of that which is found in the Royal Villa. A library which holds the private collection of my family … including forbidden texts so beyond equal, that neither swords nor flames can avail them.”

The dragon leaned down slightly.

All of a sudden, its eyes shone with a light more dazzling than any of the stars overhead. A gaze which pierced both darkness and deceit.

And then–

I was met with a blink of disbelief.

“You do not lie.”

“Ohohohoo … indeed, I do not. For in the library of the Royal Villa is held the darkest collection of books the world had ever known. And not just a handful. But hundreds.”

“... Hundreds? What are they? What is this collection?”

A dragon opened its maws before me. And yet no hint of a flame could be seen.

Only incredulity at the revelation that in my kingdom, forbidden texts which had never known the joy of being read in daylight spanned one bookshelf to the next.

Those which had been written under a veil of darkness, so foul that no matter if I tossed them in a hearth, through a window or down a trapped door, they would always find themselves back upon our shelves.

Yes … they were the root of all evil.

My poetry anthologies!

Everything I’d written before the age of 7 … no, 8 … they were a blot! A stain on my history! … Literally! I had no idea what I wrote!

Naturally, things were different now. My poetry was like the dancing of a swan. But before I’d learned to be graceful, I could only stumble.

If I could off-load them to a dragon … at worst, he’ll be so annoyed that he’ll set them all aflame, and at best, they’ll be locked away in Ouzelia, somewhere so far away even my father could not salvage them!

Oho … ohohooho!

It … It was a perfect plan!

“I have offered enough tidbits,” I said, idly brushing nothing from my sleeves. “Know only that the works held in the Royal Villa are those I have privileged access to–as well as any handmaiden in my employ. Should you be interested, I can arrange for Coppelia to send the worst for your consideration. Permanently. In fact, I would refuse to take them back.”

The dragon appeared stunned.

Even so, the answer to my generosity was clear.

For a self-professed collector of forbidden works to spurn a private collection accessible only to royalty was unfathomable. And so I presented an amicable smile as the dragon slowly lowered itself.

“You are most curious. Even amongst those of your family.”

A pause.

“Was that a–”

“It was a compliment, yes.”

The dragon offered a nod, pretending at hesitancy.

“It is a very rare thing for a dragon to part with anything theirs, even in gratitude. Yet in recognition of your aid, I would be willing to allow Coppelia to see to the Hidden Library’s interests in your kingdom, providing that is her wish. Despite her assertions, I am not wholly unreasonable … or grumpy.”

I clapped my hands in delight.

“Excellent! That is half the payment.”

The dragon blinked.

“Half? What do you mean half?”

I pointed to the side with one hand and downwards with the other.

There, a great fissure lay in the centre of the ruins. And leading down from it, a significant pile of gold serving as a dragon’s hoard now waiting to be claimed.

Hmm. How curious.

Dragons could do expressions, after all.

Why, their galled face looked remarkably similar to everyone else’s.