This was not how he envisioned things. Never did Elaera want to see fear in your eyes when you look at him. But you’ve left him with no other choice—you were supposed to be his. You’ve always been his. How could your father even think of marrying you off to someone else?

What a shameful man, he thinks. Marrying off his only daughter to that hideous prince in Aurelier just so they could receive more allies? Ridiculous.

King Baelzar had declared an all-out war on your land. The power-hungry ruler wanting to conquer, and he hated that he was forcefully drafted into this war for Baelzar’s own selfish gain. Elaera never wanted to hurt you.

He’s spent centuries loving you. Elaera remembers the laughter that echoed in the forest as you chased him, your tiny hands reaching out to touch his scales, back when you were just a child and he, nothing more than a harmless “giant lizard” in your eyes. He had grown with you, and in every breath, every heartbeat, he had fallen more hopelessly in love.

It’s why he had to take you. He couldn’t risk losing the only woman he’d ever loved to another man. Only he was worthy of being your husband.

Elaera carries a tray in his claws. He’s cooked again, though it’s never been his talent. But he’s tried. The charred edges of the bread, the overly salty soup—to him, it looks fine, perhaps even appetizing. Dragons do not need fine cuisine; the flavor of ash and soot is almost nostalgic.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He doesn’t like the way your face scrunches at the sight of this ‘meal.’ He really did try his hardest. “I thought this would make you happy. I’ll try again tomorrow.”

He wants to make you happy, even here, in this lonely tower where he’s confined you. He hates seeing you miserable, hates that you cannot understand why he’s done this. It’s for your own safety, he tells himself. You would be miserable, married off to some stranger, someone who wasn’t him.