“No,” Golmarr blurts. He looks to his brothers and father.
“No,” King Marrkul echoes. His brothers nod in agreement.
“But—”
Marrkul leans forward and cuts me off. “You are my son’s betrothed, Princess Sorrowlynn. That makes you part of our clan. We will fight this dragon with you, so you don’t have to run and fight it alone.”
My battle with the mercenary in the forest comes to mind, when he told me he would capture me and ask my family for ransom, and the gut-wrenching realization that I didn’t know if my own mother would pay to get me back. I look into King Marrkul’s sincere eyes and a lump rises in my throat. “I…,” I whisper, and then sniffle as tears fill my eyes. Golmarr drops my hand and wraps his arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly to him so my cheek is pressed to his neck.
“You belong here with us, Sorrowlynn,” he whispers against my hair.
“That’s settled, then. You will stay,” Marrkul says. He turns to his sons. “Ingvar? Olenn? Jessen? Should we redo our battle strategy to incorporate the threat of a possible dragon attack?”
“Yes,” I say, sitting forward and clenching my skirt in my fists. They all turn their eyes to me, and Ingvar and Jessen hide their smiles behind their hands. It takes every bit of self-control I possess not to glare at them.
“What would you suggest?” King Marrkul asks, and I know he is merely humoring me—a weak northern princess.
I clear my throat. “There is a hill about halfway between your city and the forest, right at the edge of your farmland—”
“Crow Hill,” Golmarr says.
“Hide the foot soldiers at the base of Crow Hill, and hide the archers on top. The hill is big enough for a large mounted army to wait behind it without the mercenaries spotting them. If you have your archers attack first, you will drastically cut the mercenaries’ numbers before any of your people risk their lives. When the enemy engages in battle with your foot soldiers, bring out the cavalry from behind the hill and surround them.” Now four pairs of shocked dark eyes are staring at me. I uncurl my fists and smooth the wrinkles from my skirt.
“What about the glass dragon?” Jessen asks. “It will freeze our soldiers hiding in the grass.”
“Not if they are covered by cloaks. The beauty of the grasslands is you can see for miles in every direction, especially on a hilltop,” I say. “Assign several people to watch the sky, and we will see the beast coming long before it can breathe its ice on us. If we lure it to the hill, the people here in Kreeose will be safe. Your crops and women and children will be spared.”
“I think that sounds like a well-thought-out plan,” Golmarr says, laying his hand flat against my back. “That way, if the glass dragon comes, we risk it freezing our warriors only if they are too slow to shelter beneath a cloak.”
“And you wield the sword that can kill the dragon,” Ingvar says to Golmarr. “For the first time in the history of our people, we stand a chance at beating a dragon.”
I peer back at Golmarr. His lips are pulled tight against his teeth, and his brow is furrowed. After a moment he nods. “I wield the sword,” he whispers.
King Marrkul stands. “Then we are finished here. Go to your wives, boys. Keep them warm for the rest of the night. Tomorrow we will travel to Crow Hill.” He turns to Golmarr and me. “After the battle, we shall have the feast. What say we marry you then, as part of the celebration?”
Golmarr’s hand, still pressed flat against my back, slowly closes on the fabric of my shirt. “What say you, Sorrowlynn?” he asks, and I can hear the mischief in his voice. “If we marry tomorrow, I won’t make you think improper thoughts anymore—at least, they won’t be improper because they will be about your husband.”
My heart starts pounding. “Yes,” I say.
“All right. If all goes well tomorrow, we will get married at the feast,” Golmarr says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
Marrkul looks between the two of us. “Very well. Now, I trust you will behave yourselves if I leave you alone out here and go to bed?”
“I don’t know,” Golmarr says, tugging on my shirt so I lean back against him. “Sorrowlynn can’t keep her hands off me, Father.”
I glare at him and smack his shoulder, and Marrkul laughs. “Soon enough you will be married and you can have your hands on him all you want, Princess, though I suspect it is the other way around—him not keeping his hands off you.” He gives his son a meaningful glance. “I will see you before first light.” Marrkul yawns and leaves.
“I can’t believe you said that to your father,” I say.
He shrugs. “I am his youngest son. I don’t think anything can shock him anymore.” He clears his throat. “I’ve come up with a plan to not kill the glass dragon tomorrow.”
“What is the plan? How can I help?”