The Dragon King's Prize

Plan of Action

After my encounter with the gorgeous mystery man, I take my time getting back home, contemplating his presence on my father’s land and his bossy attitude. Other than my father’s staff and the creepy King Luther, I haven’t really been around many men before. But he has to be a top specimen of his gender, a standard for all other men to aspire to. If all men looked like him, women would never leave their bedrooms.

I can’t help but blush at my own thoughts but there’s a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. I am inexperienced, but Margaret recently sat me down and explained the way it was between a man and a woman once they are married. She wanted me to be prepared for my wedding night. After our talk, I felt sick to my stomach at the thought of doing that with King Luther. 

But with the mystery man? 

That idea made me feel warm all over, and not because the sun was so high in the sky. 

Oh, crap, the sun is high in the sky. Which means it’s noon and I am already late for lunch with my father. He was going to tell me something, a surprise he said. I put Cleo into a full gallop and race towards the stables, careful not to lose control this time. 

When I arrive, Margaret is already there, pacing back and forth impatiently. As soon as I dismount, she rounds on me in a panic.

“Renata, what were you thinking? I had to tell your father you were temporarily indisposed with delicate lady issues and it was delaying your arrival. I can’t believe I had to even utter those words to your father! And look at you! You have twigs and leaves in your hair and your dress is streaked with dirt,” Margaret proclaims gruffly. 

“I’m so sorry Margaret, Cleo got the best of me and I ended up falling. I didn’t mean to be late or upset you,” I said contritely. 

“Are you hurt? Do I need to fetch the doctor?” she asks with alarm as she looks me over from head to toe. 

“No, I’m perfectly fine, just a sore bottom and embarrassment,” I reply. 

“Let’s get you changed quickly and get you to your father. You know he is not a very patient man,” she says. 

Margaret helps me change into a new dress and fixes my face and hair in record time and my father is none the wiser as I enter the sunroom to kiss his cheek in greeting. He gives me a smile but then his nose screws up and his face pinches. 

“Is that horse I smell? Renata, you know I don’t want you going near the stables,” he warns. 

“Of course I do, Father. I would never disobey you. It’s just a new perfume I ordered, but I think it must have gone bad before it arrived,” I lie easily.

Since my father is not the brightest and he still thinks of me as a sweet and dutiful daughter, he believes me. 

“You must get rid of it at once. King Luther would not be happy with his bride smelling of livestock,” he grumbles. 

“Yes, Father,” I say obediently. 

As we begin to eat, my father starts talking with his mouth full, which ruins my appetite. I push the food around on my plate and take a few small bites but otherwise leave my lunch untouched. 

“You eat like a bird, daughter. I worry that you are getting enough nutrition, but I guess you are watching your figure. King Luther would not want to have a fat wife,” he says around a mouthful of food. 

Everything he said always had to come back to King Luther. I had to stop myself from rolling my eyes every time we had a conversation.

“You mentioned you had a surprise, Father?” I ask sweetly.

“Oh yes! I almost forgot!” he exclaims, food spraying every which way. 

Thank god this table is so long and I’m at the opposite end, else I would be showered in it. I shudder at the thought. 

“The kingdom to the left of us is having a festival. The kingdom of Ulysto, King Luther’s kingdom, being on the right side...what is the name...I know it but I just can’t remember…” he says, scratching his beard.

My father often has trouble remembering most things. Except for my birthday, he never forgets that. 

“Is it the kingdom of Tarragon?” I ask. 

I always pose my answers to Father as a question so as not to make it obvious that I know more than him. I assume I will have to do that with all men since their egos are so fragile. 

“Yes! I knew I would remember it. Their king is choosing a bride and they are having the festival to celebrate. All the most important kings will be there with their eligible princesses. I received an invitation, but of course you won’t be participating as you are already betrothed to King Luther,” he explains. 

My father loves to be thought of as important. I honestly wonder, even if he had no debts, would I still have to marry King Luther anyway? His kingdom is probably the richest of the six major kingdoms, second only to the King of Tarragon. He has less land than Luther, however, so I imagine his search for a bride is politically motivated. 

Men and their lust for power. Give me a small farmhouse and a horse to ride every day and I would be content. Then again, as I grow older and I learn the ways of men, I know that having the power of a queen could be to my benefit. Maybe I could help to change things, little by little, so that women are seen for more than just their looks and ability to produce heirs. 

I snort in laughter at my wishful thinking and my father glares at me. 

“What is so funny?” he asks me in an irritated tone. 

I smile brightly while I quickly think of something to say to soothe his ire.

“I was just thinking that this king doesn’t have nearly as much land as King Luther, so he must be desperate for a bride to be able to compete with him. Of course he will never be as powerful as King Luther and I think it’s funny that he would try,” I reply. 

My father’s face relaxes and his expression becomes prideful at my compliments to his ally. It’s pathetic how easy it is to manipulate him. If he wasn’t selling me to the highest bidder because of his own foolish mistakes, I would almost feel sorry for him. 

“I believe King Luther will be at the festival. He’s very anxious to see you since he hasn’t been able to for almost a year now. So many issues in his kingdom with his noblemen...but nothing for you to be concerned about. Women don’t have the minds for politics anyway,” he remarks. 

His comments make me want to pinch his nostrils so he chokes on all the food he’s shoveling into his gullet. I make my excuses and leave him to his gluttony. As I pass through the great hall and head towards my room, I avoid the stares of all the animal heads on the walls. There is nothing my father loves more than to see his trophies displayed for all to see. 

As I lay in bed my thoughts drift back to the mystery man. If only I could marry someone like him. Arrogant though he may be, at least he was young and exciting. And I had the distinct feeling that he wasn’t the kind of man who would be violent towards a woman. He certainly had an element of danger to him, but my gut was telling me that he was dangerous out of necessity and not choice. 

I know now that I must do everything in my power to get out of this marriage with King Luther. I could very well be at risk for losing my life if the rumors I heard years ago were true. Suddenly, an idea pops into my head. I sit straight up and a huge smile spreads across my face. 

The festival. 

There will probably be thousands of people and my father will no doubt be distracted by drinking and finding the nearest gambling hall. I could make my escape then. 

I could disappear amongst the crowd and no one would notice until it was too late, until I was far away from these lands. I could even change my clothing to make myself look like a boy and get a job as a stable hand in a neighboring kingdom.

Then I could spend the rest of my days working with horses and never have to see that awful King Luther again.

That’s it, I had a plan. 

Tomorrow, I would finally be free.