The Wedding Knife

"Hold still, sweetheart. It will only hurt until the dragon dies."

Cedric said it with the same tenderness he had used when asking me to marry him.

His fingers tightened the ruby necklace at my throat. Below us, something dragged against stone. The sound traveled through the white marble altar into my knees.

"What will hurt?" I asked.

"The blessing." He smoothed a curl behind my ear. "Look at me, Elara."

I tried to lift my hands. The silk wound around my wrists pulled tight against the altar's golden rails.

Three hundred wedding guests watched from the pews. Nobody stood. Queen Isolde sat beneath the royal canopy, wearing the slender gold crown I had polished for her as a child. A red light moved inside its central stone.

The priest turned my left palm upward.

"Cedric."

"Be brave for me."

The ceremonial blade opened my skin.

I jerked against the silk. Blood fell into a narrow channel carved beneath the flowers, turning the lilies pink. My fiancé caught my shoulder before I could pull away.

"You said there would be no blood," I whispered.

"You weren't supposed to be frightened."

The priest resumed his prayer. I knew its language. For six years, I had copied treaties and funeral inscriptions in the queen's library, translating words men with hereditary titles could not read.

I had translated the wedding blessing myself.

This was a different one.

The vessel opens. The borrowed fire returns. The bride's heart shall sustain the blade until her final breath.

My gaze dropped to the words emerging beneath my blood.

"Until whose final breath?"

Cedric's hand grew heavier on my shoulder.

Across the aisle, the queen gave a small, encouraging nod.

For fourteen years, I had mistaken that gesture for love.

"Will I survive?" I asked him.

His blue eyes flickered toward the canopy.

"Your name will be remembered."

For a moment I could hear nothing at all.

Yesterday, he had complained that the wedding cake contained too much orange peel. This morning, he had kissed my forehead and promised me a garden. He had discussed the weather while knowing how my life would end.

I looked past him. Lady Hester, who had fastened the pearls in my hair, stared at her folded gloves. The captain of the guard watched the doors. None of them looked confused.

"Elara," the queen said. "Your family served this kingdom for generations. You have the opportunity to restore their honor."

My father had died owing her money. My mother had died owing her gratitude. Apparently, I owed her the rest.

"You raised me for this."

"I raised you to understand duty."

Heat gathered beneath the ruby. I smelled singed lace.

From somewhere below the altar came a low, humorless laugh.

Cedric turned toward it. "Be silent."

The laugh stopped. That was somehow worse.

I forced myself to look at the blade resting against Cedric's belt. The priest had returned it after cutting me. Gold lettering ran along its ivory handle.

What binds may open. What opens may sever.

I had copied those words in a manuscript about royal prisons. My fingers had cramped over them while Cedric brought me sugared almonds and asked whether I would finish work before supper.

I began to cry.

The tears required no effort. Making them look like surrender did.

"Please," I said. "One kiss. If you ever loved me, give me that."

His face changed. Relief softened the strain around his mouth.

He believed I had accepted it.

He bent close enough for me to smell the cedar oil on his collar. I kissed him, lifted my bound hands as far as the rail allowed, and curled my fingers around the knife.

The silk parted under the blade.

Cedric caught my wrist a heartbeat too late.

I pressed the point beneath my ribs.

"Let go."

"Elara, put that down."

The priest lunged. I pushed until pain bit through the wedding dress.

"Your Majesty," he said sharply. "The vessel must remain intact."

Everyone stopped.

My hand shook. I wanted very badly to live, which made threatening my own life a miserable strategy. It was also the only one they seemed prepared to respect.

"You need my heart beating," I said. "Tell your guards to move."

Isolde's smile vanished.

"You are upset."

"I am paying attention."

She raised two fingers. The guards at the altar steps moved apart.

"Move the blade an inch to the left," a man's voice said beneath me, "and you will save them considerable trouble."

I looked down.

The altar stood over an open stairwell, hidden from the congregation by hanging flowers. At its bottom, a man knelt inside a circle of black iron.

Chains passed through the stone and over his shoulders. One had disappeared beneath the torn fabric against his chest. His dark hair hung around a face too still to be peaceful.

Then he looked up.

His eyes were gold.

I had seen those eyes embroidered on battle standards, painted beneath saints' feet, carved into gargoyles above nursery doors.

The Dragon King.

"Don't listen to him," Cedric said.

I almost laughed. "Have you thought of giving me a better alternative?"

I backed toward the stairs, keeping the blade against my chest. Cedric followed until the queen ordered him to stop.

"There is nowhere you can go," she told me.

I descended anyway.

The prison smelled of iron and old smoke. Up close, the dragon was enormous even on his knees. His shirt had once been black. Blood had stiffened it to his ribs. The restraints had rubbed his wrists raw, but his hands rested open on his thighs.

He watched the knife.

"If you intend to stab me, do it properly. I have had enough amateurs."

"I was hoping we might discuss something else."

His gaze moved to my throat.

"They have given you the pretty collar."

My fingers touched the ruby. It burned.

"Can you remove it?"

"Yes."

Above us, boots scraped marble.

"If I free you, will you take me out of here alive?"

He studied my face long enough for me to feel every wet track on it.

"Alive," he repeated. "That is a more expensive request than you understand."

"I have had an expensive education. Tell me quickly."

One corner of his mouth moved.

He nodded toward the lock at his wrist. The same gold letters encircled it.

I lowered the knife from my chest. Immediately, a guard began down the stairs.

"Elara!" Cedric shouted.

I thrust the blade into the lock.

Nothing happened.

The guard's sword cleared its scabbard.

"Your blood," the dragon said.

I closed my wounded palm around the handle. Blood ran over the lettering. The lock opened with a sound like a breaking tooth.

The freed chain struck the guard across the legs. He fell hard, and the dragon caught his sword before it hit the floor.

He rose.

I stumbled backward against his chest. Heat poured through his ruined shirt. His arm moved around me, keeping the blade away from my skin without trapping me against him.

Cedric stood at the top of the stairs.

"She is my bride."

The dragon looked up at him.

"You should have remembered that before you put a leash around her throat."

The ruby flared. Pain drove me to my knees.

He crouched with me, sword still lifted toward the stairs.

"Listen carefully. I can break this prison. I cannot break that claim while you remain under their protection. You must enter mine."

"How?"

His golden eyes held mine.

"Dragon marriage. A spoken oath, freely accepted. It will make their sacrifice impossible. It will also make you my wife."

Above us, the queen ordered the doors sealed.

I looked at the man who had promised me a garden, then at the creature my bedtime stories had taught me to fear.

"Tell me what I have to say."