The Dragon King's Breeder

The Castle

The carriage ride takes hours. Both Jessa and I feel sick to our stomachs. We’ve never traveled this far in our lives. We never even left our village.

I stare out the window and watch the landscapes change, each one unfamiliar. Forests, rolling hills, stretches of open plains. I keep hoping we aren’t too far from the sea. I’ve always needed the sound of waves to feel steady.

Jessa talks the entire ride. She’s nervous, excited, curious, all at once. I try to nod and say “Mm hmm” in the right places, but my mind keeps drifting.

I realize I’ve failed when she suddenly asks, “I said, what do you think the king looks like?”

“Oh. I don’t even know how old he is. I have no idea what he looks like. All I’ve heard are the rumors that he’s terrifying and cruel.”

The carriage crests the final hill, and the castle comes into view.

It’s enormous, built from black stone that gleams like obsidian under the fading light. Vines twist up its sides, thick and green, clinging to the walls as if trying to tame the darkness. Moss glows where the sun catches it, a strange, living contrast against the cold stone. Towers rise high enough to pierce the clouds, their tips crowned with gold that flashes like fire.

The property stretches for miles, surrounded by a wrought iron fence so tall it could keep dragons out or in. Each picket ends in a sharp gold point, catching the light like a warning. Carriages line the drive, their wheels crunching over gravel as guards in black armor move with silent precision.

I press my hand to the window, my breath fogging the glass. The castle feels alive, ancient, watching me approach. It’s beautiful and terrible at the same time, the kind of place that promises power and demands obedience.

We finally come to a stop, and Captain Corren opens our carriage door without hesitation.

I study him when he isn’t looking. He’s an older man, probably in his late fifties, with a face carved by years of wind, sun, and responsibility. His hair is mostly gray, cut short enough that it never dares fall out of place. His jaw is square, his mouth set in a line that rarely softens, and his eyes are a sharp steel blue that miss nothing.

He carries himself like someone who’s spent his entire life giving orders and having them followed. There’s no arrogance in it, just certainty. His armor is worn in places, polished in others, and he moves with the steady confidence of a man who’s seen danger enough times to stop fearing it.

He doesn’t waste words. When he speaks, it’s brief and direct, as if he expects people to listen the first time. He doesn’t smile, but he isn’t cruel. He’s simply a man with a job to do, and he intends to do it without fuss.

To me, he feels like a wall I can’t move and a storm I can’t outrun. Reliable, unshakable, and completely uninterested in my fear. He treats me with respect, but not gentleness.

“This way,” he says, gesturing toward the steps. His answers are always short.

Jessa and I follow him inside. The castle is just as dark and magnificent on the inside. A huge marble staircase rises in front of us, polished to a shine. Captain Corren leads us down a long hall and shows us to my room, letting us know Jessa’s is attached through a small side door.

The moment Captain Corren opens the door, I freeze.

The room is nothing like the rest of the castle. Everything outside is dark stone and shadow, but this space is bright and warm, almost glowing. Soft beige walls catch the light from a chandelier overhead, turning the whole room into something that feels gentle and safe. It looks like a place meant for a princess, not for someone like me.

A large bed sits against the far wall, covered in cream linens and embroidered pillows. A vanity stands near the window, carved from pale wood and polished to a shine. An armoire big enough to hold a lifetime of clothes rests beside it, its doors etched with delicate patterns. When I open the closet, I gasp. It’s enormous, bigger than my entire bedroom back home.

Everything smells faintly of lavender and fresh linen.

It’s beautiful. Too beautiful.

I turn slowly, my heart thudding in my chest. “Captain Corren… are you sure this is my room?”

He gives me a single, steady look. “It is.”

I don’t know what to say. The extravagance feels wrong, like I’ve stepped into someone else’s life by accident. I’m supposed to be here as a breeder, not a guest. Not royalty. Not anything worth silk sheets and warm light.

For a moment, I’m terrified they’ve made a mistake. For another, I’m terrified they haven’t.

Jessa slips past me, her eyes wide with awe. I stand in the doorway, unsure if I should step inside or run back down the hall

The captain lets us know that the head of the house staff, Ms. McCrae, will come by later today to meet us and give us our schedules. He delivers the information in that same clipped, steady tone, then turns and leaves without saying goodbye.

The door shuts behind him, and the room feels strangely quiet.

Jessa swings her legs and looks around the room again, already imagining what life here might be like. I’m still trying to understand how we ended up in a place that looks like it belongs to someone important. Someone wanted. Someone chosen.