SERA'S POV
"Don't move," Jonathan hisses, holding up the dragon scale. It pulses with eerie silver light. "And don't scream."
My back presses against the wall. "What do you want?"
"To save your life." He kneels down, keeping his distance. The knife isn't pointed at me—it's pointed at the door. "Vivienne didn't just pay me to lie about you. She paid me to kill you. Tonight. Make it look like you ran away."
My heart stops. "What?"
"She can't risk you talking to the Dragon King's emissaries. Can't risk you telling them the truth about what she did." His hands shake. "She gave me enough gold to disappear forever. All I had to do was slit your throat and dump your body in the river."
I can't breathe. "Then why are you telling me this?"
"Because I have a sister your age." His voice cracks. "And I'm not a murderer, no matter how much gold she offers." He holds out the dragon scale. "Take this. Hide it. When the emissaries come in three days, show it to them. Tell them you found it in Lady Vivienne's chambers."
"I don't understand—"
"This scale is from a dragon that was killed twenty years ago. Murdered by dragon-slayers." Jonathan's eyes are desperate. "It's illegal for humans to possess them. If the Dragon King finds out Vivienne has one, he'll investigate. He'll discover her crimes. Maybe even save you."
"Maybe?" I almost laugh. It comes out broken. "You want me to bet my life on maybe?"
"It's better than definitely dying tonight." He sets the scale on the floor between us. "I'm leaving. Tonight. Vivienne will think I completed the job. By the time she realizes you're alive, I'll be gone." He stands. "I'm sorry for what I did to you. The lies. I needed the money for my sister's medicine, but that doesn't make it right."
He unlocks the door and pauses. "Don't trust anyone in this house. Not even the servants who seem kind. Vivienne owns them all."
Then he's gone.
I stare at the dragon scale on the floor. It's warm when I pick it up, like it's alive. I hide it in the torn hem of Mother's dress and shove the dress back under my mattress.
Three days. I have three days to survive.
I don't sleep that night either.
THREE MONTHS LATER
I dump the bucket of dirty water into the gutter and straighten my aching back.
Three months.
I've been a servant for three months now, and I'm still alive. Barely.
My hands are covered in scars from lye soap and hot water. My knees are permanently bruised from scrubbing floors. I've lost weight because servants only eat leftovers—and Beatrice makes sure I get the smallest portions.
But I'm alive.
The Dragon King's emissaries never came. No one mentioned the treaty again. At first, I thought maybe Jonathan was wrong. Maybe there was no plan.
Then I realized the truth: they're waiting. Watching. Making sure I'm completely broken before they take me.
"Move, trash." Celeste's voice makes me look up. She stands at the top of the stairs in a green silk dress, Marcus beside her. They're going to the market. They go every week to be seen together. The perfect happy couple.
I step aside, eyes down. I've learned not to look at them.
"She's gotten so thin," Celeste says to Marcus, loud enough for me to hear. "Do you think she's sick?"
"Who cares?" Marcus replies. "She brought this on herself."
They walk past, laughing.
I used to cry when they did this. Used to run to my room and sob into my mattress.
Not anymore.
Now, I just feel cold. Empty. And angry.
So, so angry.
That night, I don't go straight to my room after finishing my chores. Instead, I slip through the shadows to Father's study. The door is locked, but I learned how to pick locks from watching the groundskeeper. It takes me three tries, but it opens.
Inside, I search through his papers by candlelight. I'm looking for something—anything—I can use. Proof of Vivienne's crimes. Records of the payments to the servants. The truth about the dragon scale.
I find something better.
A letter. Sealed with the Dragon King's mark—a black dragon breathing silver fire.
My hands shake as I break the seal and read.
Duke Ashwood,
The treaty date has passed. We expected delivery of the promised bride three months ago. This delay is unacceptable. Our emissaries will arrive on the next full moon to collect what is owed.
If you do not provide a suitable bride, we will consider it an act of war.
You have five days.
—Lyria Emberwing, Advisor to King Dravyx Nightflame
Five days.
The full moon is in five days.
I look at the date on the letter. It arrived this morning.
They've been planning this for three months. Waiting for me to be weak. Broken. Easy to control.
Well, I'm broken. But not in the way they think.
I hear footsteps in the hallway. I shove the letter back and slip out the window onto the garden ledge. I learned all the secret routes through this house as a child. Now they're saving my life.
Back in my room, I pull out Mother's dress and the dragon scale. I stare at it in the moonlight.
Five days until the emissaries come.
Five days until they take me to my death.
Unless I run. Tonight. Right now.
I could steal food from the kitchen. Take a cloak. Slip out through the servant's entrance. I know the guard schedules now. There's a two-minute gap at midnight when the east gate is unwatched.
I could be miles away by morning.
But then what? Live on the streets? Starve? Get caught and executed for breaking the treaty?
At least if I go to the Dragon King, I die with dignity. And maybe—just maybe—I can show someone the dragon scale. Tell someone the truth about Vivienne before I die.
It's not much of a plan.
But it's all I have.
A sound makes me freeze. Voices outside my door. I blow out my candle and press my ear to the wood.
"—sure she's asleep?" That's Vivienne.
"Beatrice gave her the sleeping herbs in her dinner. She won't wake for hours." Marissa.
My blood turns to ice. I didn't eat dinner tonight. I was too busy in Father's study.
The door handle turns.
They think I'm drugged. Unconscious.
They're coming to do something to me while I can't fight back.
I look around frantically. The window's too small. The door's the only way out, and they're right there.
I'm trapped.
The door opens slowly. Vivienne enters first, carrying a candle. Marissa follows with something in her hands. Something that glints in the light.
Chains.
"Let's get her ready for transport," Vivienne says softly. "The emissaries want her docile. Broken. We'll keep her chained in the cellar until they arrive. Can't risk her trying to run now."
They move toward my bed.
I press myself against the wall in the shadows, holding my breath.
Vivienne reaches the bed. Pulls back the blanket.
Empty.
"Where is she?" Vivienne spins around, candle raised.
And sees me.
For a heartbeat, we just stare at each other.
Then I bolt.
I shove past Marissa, hearing her scream. I run down the hallway, bare feet slapping stone. Behind me, Vivienne is shouting for guards.
I take the servants' stairs two at a time. My only chance is the east gate. The two-minute gap.
I burst through the kitchen door into the night air. The east gate is fifty yards away.
I can make it. I can—
Guards round the corner ahead of me.
I skid to a stop.
More guards behind me. I'm surrounded.
Vivienne appears, breathing hard, her face twisted with rage. "Thought you could run?"
"You tried to drug me," I gasp. "You were going to chain me—"
"I'm preparing you for your destiny." She signals the guards. "Take her to the cellar. Chain her properly this time. And don't feed her. I want her weak."
The guards grab my arms. I fight, kicking and screaming, but there are too many.
They drag me across the courtyard. Down stone steps I've never seen before. Into a cellar that smells of mold and rot.
They chain my wrists to the wall.
Vivienne stands in the doorway. "Five days, Sera. Then the Dragon King takes you, and I never have to see your face again."
The door slams. A lock turns.
Darkness swallows me.