Chapter 22 Village Visit
Elara's POV
Drakon stares at me.
Little Kira pulls back from the hug, smiling innocently. She has no idea what she just revealed.
"Thank you for the flower crown," I manage to say.
Kira skips away. The villagers continue gathering, but Drakon doesn't move. He just watches me with those golden eyes.
"Your Majesty?" An elderly man approaches. "Would you honor us by visiting the schoolhouse? The children prepared songs."
"Of course." I force brightness into my voice.
As we walk through the village, I'm hyperaware of Drakon beside me. He's quiet. Too quiet. His mind is working.
The schoolhouse is small but warm. Children sing a welcoming song in beautiful harmony. I clap when they finish. "That was wonderful!"
Afterwards, children swarm around with questions.
"Is it true you married a dragon?"
"Can King Drakon really breathe fire?"
I answer each question patiently, kneeling to their level. Their innocence makes my heart ache. Sir Marcus wants to destroy this peaceful place.
Drakon watches from across the room. Every time I interact naturally with a child, he looks more thoughtful.
Later, we leave the schoolhouse. Villagers line the streets, waving. I wave back, trying to project confidence.
"You're good with children," Drakon says quietly.
"I like children. They're honest. Pure."
"Unlike adults?"
"Children don't pretend to be something they're not."
"Is that what you think you're doing?"
My throat tightens. "Aren't we all pretending? You're pretending to be angry. I'm pretending to be a proper princess."
"Fair point." Drakon stops walking. We've reached a park area away from the crowd. "But Kira was right, wasn't she? You don't smell like a noble."
"Like a commoner." I finish for him. "Because that's what I am."
"I know." His admission surprises me. "I've known for a while. The way you looked at books. The calluses on your hands. How you spoke about freedom."
"Then why didn't you say anything?"
"Because I wanted you to trust me enough to tell me the truth. Which you did."
A woman's scream shatters the moment.
We spin around. Villagers scatter, pointing toward the forest. "Intruder! Armed intruder!"
Drakon moves instantly, scales appearing on his arms. "Get behind me."
But I see the threat first. A figure in dark clothes. Bow drawn. Arrow aimed at me.
"Drakon!" I shout.
The arrow flies.
Drakon moves impossibly fast. His scaled hand catches the arrow inches from my chest.
Villagers scream. Guards rush forward. The archer disappears into the forest.
"Are you hurt?" Drakon grabs my shoulders, checking me frantically.
"I'm fine. You caught it."
"Dragon reflexes." His hands shake as they cup my face. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." But I'm trembling. Someone just tried to kill me.
Thorne arrives, breathing hard. "Guards are searching the forest."
"Look." Drakon picks up the arrow. Something white is tied to it. A note.
He unrolls it, expression darkening.
"What does it say?"
Drakon hands it to me:
"The false queen must die. Long live the true royal blood."
My blood runs cold. False queen. Someone knows.
"This is a threat," Thorne says. "From someone who believes you're not legitimate."
"But why?" Drakon's voice is tight with anger. "Who would want her dead?"
"Maybe someone who opposes humans marrying into dragon families," Thorne suggests.
But I know better. This isn't about opposing the marriage. This is about exposing me.
"We need to get you back to the castle," Drakon says. "Now."
As guards escort us to the carriage, I see villagers watching with frightened faces. Little Kira stands with her mother, crying.
I wave at her sadly. I brought danger to these innocent people.
In the carriage, Drakon sits across from me, the note clenched in his fist.
"Who wants you dead, Celestia?" His voice is dangerously quiet. "And why?"
I can't tell him the truth. Not with Lily still captured. "I don't know. Maybe Thorne is right."
"The note said 'false queen.' Not 'unwanted queen' or 'human queen.' False. Like you're not legitimate. Like you're..."
"Like I'm an imposter?"
"Are you?" Drakon's eyes bore into mine. "Because someone out there knows something. And they're willing to kill you over it."
My mind races. Who sent the note? Sir Marcus? Queen Morgana? Someone else?
"I need to know everything, Elara." Drakon's voice softens. "I can't protect you if you're hiding things. Who knows you're not really Princess Celestia?"
"You, Thorne, Faye, Sir Marcus, Queen Morgana."
"Could she have sent the archer?"
"Maybe. Or maybe..." I stop. "What if someone wants Princess Celestia dead? The real one?"
Drakon sits back. "If someone wants the real princess dead, and they think you're her, then they'll keep trying until they succeed."
Silence fills the carriage.
"We need to find the archer. Make him talk."
The carriage pulls up to the castle. A guard runs to Thorne.
"Sir! We caught him! The archer! He's in the dungeon!"
"Good." Drakon's eyes glow brighter. "I'll question him myself."
"Your Majesty," the guard continues nervously. "There's something else. The archer is one of ours. A castle guard. He's been serving here for two years."
My stomach drops. The archer isn't some outside assassin. He's from inside the castle. Someone who sees me every day.
Someone who knows I'm not who I claim to be.
Drakon's scales spread further up his arms. "Take me to him. Now."