The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)

I tighten my arms around his shoulders and whisper, “Thank you.”


After what feels like hours, Golmarr says, “I need you to get down now.” He helps me back into the water, and I notice his arms are trembling. Taking the bow and quiver from my back, he puts them onto his own and leans against the wall. I crouch, and the bottom of my skirt floats on top of the water. Filling my hands, I drink, and then refill them and hold them up to Golmarr. He puts his hands beneath mine and brings them to his mouth, drinking. The touch of his lips on my fingertips makes my body jump awake, and I have to force myself not to yank my hands away. “Thank you,” he says.

I stand on my toes and garner enough courage to quickly kiss him on the cheek. He presses on the spot where my lips touched his skin and asks, “What was that for?”

“You are a prince of Anthar. All of my life I have heard stories of how violent and aggressive your people are. But you…” He silently waits for me to continue. “You are kind and gentle.”

“And I always heard how soft and submissive your people were. I will admit you’re soft, but you are brave and strong-willed. There is a place and a time for violent and aggressive, and yes, my people are ferocious when they are fighting to protect their land and children and freedom. But there are also times to be gentle and kind.” The sides of his mouth turn up, and he flashes his white teeth. “Just don’t tell my brothers I said so. They’d beat me to a pulp.”

Taking my hand in his, we start walking again. We haven’t taken more than twenty steps when Golmarr pulls me to a stop. “Look,” he says.

Below us and far ahead, the darkness has changed. Instead of solid black, there is a hazy circle of orange, barely brighter than the dark. “What do you think that is?” Golmarr asks, taking his bow from his back.

My heart starts hammering against my ribs. “The fire dragon? Does the fire dragon glow?”

“The dragon’s scales glow, so the dragon itself must glow,” he whispers, and starts creeping down the stairs, bow in hand. The farther we descend, the bigger and brighter the orange haze becomes, and I barely notice my aching feet and throbbing legs or my empty belly. As the light grows, the cavern becomes louder—a dull roar I feel deep in my bones. The air also changes, clinging to my face and skin like icy fog.

Soon, we no longer have to look down to see the orange haze. We are level with it. I open my mouth to ask Golmarr what he thinks it is, but he comes to such an abrupt halt that I jerk to a stop to keep from running into him.

“Look!” he whispers. The ground is flat, and the stream we have been sloshing down is fanning out over the cave floor and merging into a giant pool of water. At the other end of the pool are the orange glow and the rumbling.

Golmarr steps into the water and turns to me, black brows drawn down. “Do you know how to swim?”

I shake my head. “I had never even seen a lake before last night.”

He takes my hand and guides me forward. “Hopefully, it won’t be too deep.” Together we splash through the water, and my teeth start to chatter as the cold that has been festering in my body takes full hold of me. The closer we get to the light, the louder the rumbling becomes and the wetter the air is. The pool laps around my thighs as I push my way through it. The jagged cave floor is agony on my feet. When we are more than halfway across the pool, I stop walking and stare, openmouthed, at the great glowing mass.

A giant waterfall is cascading down the sheer side of the cave and splashing into the very pool I am submerged in. White mist is surging up around it, and something on the other side of the waterfall is glowing, creating a half circle of orange light that is distorted by the falling water, and as tall as the castle I grew up in.

“Beautiful,” Golmarr says, his voice barely louder than the roaring water. He grips my hand more tightly and pulls me forward.

Bethany Wiggins's books