Part 8: Wedding of Fire and Forever
Six months later, the kingdom celebrated the wedding of King Tairn Draven and Freya Vex.
The former poison-taster who had once been sentenced to death walked down the aisle wearing black silk embroidered with gold.
The Dragon King waited beneath an arch of winter roses.
He looked at her as though she were the only person in the world.
Which was fortunate.
Because Freya had already informed him that if he looked at anyone else like that, she’d steal his remaining magic and turn him into a decorative teapot.
The ceremony was beautiful.
The food was excellent.
The royal cook received her medal.
And the tiny dragon ate the wedding cake.
All of it.
Before anyone else got a slice.
Freya looked at the empty table.
Then at Tairn.
“I want a divorce.”
He laughed.
And kissed her.
Far beneath the palace, in a chamber no one had entered for centuries, a single golden flame flickered to life.
It burned for a moment.
Then vanished.
But high above, in the royal gardens, a tiny black dragon lifted its head.
Its golden eyes narrowed.
And somewhere deep inside its ancient little heart, a memory stirred.
A memory that did not belong to Tairn.
A memory of a throne older than dragons.
And a woman wearing a crown of fire.
The creature blinked.
Then curled up beside the sleeping queen.
Some secrets, after all, could wait.
THE END
