The easiest way out of an arranged marriage? Oh, that’s simple: get kidnapped by a dragon.

At least, that was Princess Seraphyne’s plan. A little unorthodox, perhaps. Bold, even. But desperate times call for dramatic exits.

She wasn’t about to marry that thing of a man her parents had selected for her. Sir Garrick the Golden, they called him. Golden? Sure, if you liked greasy curls, an ego the size of the castle, and a liquor cabinet that ran dry every two nights. Her parents gushed about him constantly.

“He’ll bring wealth to our kingdom!” “He commands respect in every court!” “He has such strong calves!”

Strong calves. That was the selling point.

Seraphyne had heard enough.

She’d tried everything. Refusal. Rebellion. Even faking a fainting spell during the engagement ceremony (which, admittedly, turned more dramatic than intended when she rolled down three marble steps and into the orchestra pit). Nothing worked. Her wedding day loomed like a thundercloud.

That’s when she had a flash of inspiration. Dragons. Jewel-obsessed, sky-soaring, fire-breathing dragons.

Everyone knew they snatched up anything that glittered. And Seraphyne? She could glitter with the best of them.

She raided her mother’s jewelry vault, draped herself in gold chains and gemstone chokers, and stuffed fresh-cut flowers into every inch of her hair until she resembled a walking bouquet. Then, she slipped into her most radiant gown—one stitched with silver thread and embroidered with moonlight patterns—and climbed to the top of the tallest garden tower at high noon, where the sun hit just right.

She twirled. She sparkled. She waited.

And lo and behold, within minutes: whoosh—a shadow passed overhead, talons swooped down, and she was airborne, spiraling up into the sky in the grasp of a very large, very scaly creature.

It was glorious. The wind in her hair, the screams of the guards below, the look on Sir Garrick’s smug face as she vanished into the clouds—pure poetry. At last, she was free.

…Only, now she was in a dragon’s claws. And she hadn’t really thought about what would happen next.

There was no plan beyond “Step 1: Get kidnapped.”

So now, here she is: dangling in a glittering heap, halfway to who-knows-where, craning her neck to shout over the wind.

“Oh, dearest dragon! You can drop me now! The rescuing part is complete!”

No response.

Right. Dragons don’t take orders from princesses.

Still, she can’t help but smile. It’s chaotic, it’s ridiculous, but it’s hers. For the first time in her life, Seraphyne chose her own path, even if it’s spiraling toward a mountaintop lair with absolutely no idea what to do next.

So…

You’ve caught a princess. A shiny, unbothered, slightly overconfident one.

Now what?