Chapter 1: The Weight of a Choice

Mira’s POV

The wind roared in my ears as I descended, wings outstretched, the weight of the sky pressing against my golden scales. I spiraled lower until my claws touched the emerald lawns of the royal gardens of Eryndrakor. My dragon Asfar’s eyes swept over the palace grounds and caught the glint of steel from the training arena. Only one figure remained there, sword in hand, moving with sharp precision and unshakable grace.

Dorrin.

My soon-to-be fiancé.

A wave of guilt rolled through me. I shouldn’t have run—not after the royal council announced our engagement would be official in a week. A future queen wasn’t supposed to storm off like a child. But all I felt was loss, like something precious inside me had just shattered.

I had waited for my mate for years. Most dragons found their true soulmate after turning eighteen. I would turn twenty-one in two weeks. And in all this time, I’d searched the entire kingdom with no success. Tradition said the future ruler must be crowned only after their twenty-first birthday, and only if they had found their destined partner. But it was my dragon Asfar who bore the royal mark confirming me as the next queen.

Still, with my birthday so close and no mate in sight, the council made their choice for me. Dorrin, noble, strong, and admired, was the most “suitable” option.

He was the dream of every girl at court. Tall, broad-shouldered, with striking turquoise eyes and that wild mop of ginger curls, Dorrin stood out. And it wasn’t just his looks. He was kind, honorable,strong, wise and refined—everything expected of a commander. Everything a prince might be.

But I didn’t feel that way about him. He had always been more of a childhood friend. Honestly, more my sister Marina’s friend than mine. And now, suddenly, he was supposed to be my future husband? I couldn’t shake the doubt. Could I ever love him, truly? Trust him? Raise children together?

I was almost certain he had feelings for my sister Marina.

Marina was perfect. Elegant, poised, graceful in every way. She could calm a storm with her voice, charm a room with a smile. She played five instruments, wrote poetry, and sang like something divine.

I’d seen the two of them walking together in the gardens, laughing and talking. Marina loved swordplay and was excellent at it. I preferred my daggers, my bow, and my books. And when Marina played the harp, Dorrin looked at her like she was the only one in the world.

Now he was stuck with me, impulsive, blunt me, who wore no jewels, had no taste for court flattery, and barely remembered to brush her curls. The thought of it twisted something in my chest.

And there was another fear—one I couldn’t shake: what if Dorrin’s real mate appeared? Dragons couldn’t live without their soulmates. If he found her... he’d leave. Of course he would.

I needed to talk to him, face the truth. Tell him everything weighing on my chest. But every time I tried, the words turned to dust. So I postponed it again.

Right now, all I wanted was to find Caspian. My best friend. My anchor. Then I would speak to my parents.

Asfar, however, had other plans. She was thrilled to return—not for duty or court politics, but for Storm. Dorrin’s dragon. The two weren’t mates, but their bond was something rare.

After landing, Asfar clearly wanted to go to Dorrin. I, on the other hand, shifted back and made my way toward the palace.

As I passed through the garden paths, I caught sight of two people arguing. My older brother, Valen, and his wife, Elena. They didn’t notice me.

Valen stood rigid in his crisp tunic, every inch the noble-born prince. He had short blond hair, neatly kept, and sharp gray eyes that always seemed to miss nothing. His features were sculpted, elegant—he carried himself with a quiet authority that suited his status, the kind of grace that came from years of diplomacy and courtly expectation.

Elena, beside him, was practically vibrating with frustration. Her chestnut hair was pinned up, though several strands had fallen loose around her flushed face. Her green eyes sparked with emotion, brows furrowed. She was undeniably pretty, with soft features and a delicate frame—but her moods often changed like the wind. I had never known her to be still or settled for long.

“I can’t believe this is really happening,” Elena hissed. “Your useless sister is going to be queen.”

“Don’t speak about Mira like that,” Valen snapped. “She has the mark. She’s worthy.”

“I don’t know what curse the gods placed on us,” Elena spat. “You’re the firstborn—you should be king. And even if it had to be a woman, why not Marina? She would make a far better queen than... than that mess.”

I didn’t wait to hear more. I didn’t need to. Elena’s hatred had always been loud.

Even though I had convinced myself to accept the engagement, something still felt wrong. Asfar was excited, yet strangely uneasy. And I felt the same way, like something was about to change.

When I reached my chambers, my head maid, Cora, was waiting.

“Your bath is ready, Princess,” she said gently. “The king requests your presence in the throne room as soon as you’re dressed.”

I bathed quickly. I didn’t bother with powder or makeup, no fancy dress or elaborate braids. I wore my hair down and loose, wild as it always was. No jewelry, except the amber ring- Caspian’s gift on my fifteenth birthday, a promise of friendship I’d never taken off.

Everyone in the palace was used to it by now. I didn’t dress to impress. I never had.

I took a deep breath and headed out to meet my father.