Chapter 5: The Ugly Bride
The carriage ride to the Obsidian Palace took five grueling days. Tamara sat in the iron-reinforced coach alongside four other girls from neighboring towns. They were all dressed in extravagant, suffocating layers of silk, their faces painted with thick powders to hide their tears.
Tamara, however, wore her simple forest tunic, her leather mask tied securely over her right cheek. She didn’t cry. In fact, she felt a strange sense of liberation. She had already made up her mind: the moment the Dragon King rejected her—which he undoubtedly would—she would not return to Oakhaven. She would run north, into the uncharted mountain forests, and disappear forever.
When the gates of the Obsidian Palace swung open, even Tamara held her breath.
The structure was magnificent and terrifying, carved entirely out of solid, gleaming black volcanic rock. Gold veins ran through the pillars like liquid light, and the banners of the Dragon Clan—a golden eye surrounded by black wings—snapped fiercely in the wind.
The great hall was a sea of color. Hundreds of high-born human maidens stood in nervous clusters.
“Look at her,” a sharp whisper echoed from a group of girls in silk gowns nearby.
“Why is she wearing a mask? Is she hiding a disease?”
“I heard about her,” another chuckled behind a silk fan. “She’s the merchant Alden’s daughter. She was born with a hideous shadow mark. Her own fiancé threw her out because she was so ugly.”
“An ugly bride for the Dragon King? How hilarious. The King will probably incinerate her the moment she steps forward.”
The cruel whispers rippled through the hall like a wildfire. Tamara remained perfectly calm, her posture straight, her hazel eyes staring forward. Their words could not pierce a heart that had already been broken by her own father.
A high royal guard, a towering naga warrior with silver scales and a heavy broadsword, marched down the center aisle. His amber eyes locked onto Tamara. He paused, his heavy brow furrowing as he looked at her simple clothes and her leather mask.
“You,” the guard barked, his voice echoing in the chamber. “Why do you wear a mask in the house of the King? Remove it.”
“If I remove it, my Lord, it may disturb the peace of the court,” Tamara replied calmly.
The guard stepped closer, catching a glimpse of the dark edges of the birthmark peeking out from beneath the leather. He grimaced slightly, realizing what it was. “Keep it on then. We do not need your omens souring His Majesty’s mood. Cover yourself completely.”
Tamara quietly adjusted the leather, ensuring the mark was hidden. She sat on a stone bench, watching the spectacle with a detached, peaceful mind. Soon, she would be rejected, and then she would be free.
Suddenly, the massive iron doors at the front of the hall rumbled open. A profound, suffocating pressure dropped over the room, making it difficult for the human maidens to breathe.
“The Dragon King has arrived.”