When I was reincarnated as a princess and subsequently snatched away to a dragon’s lair, I didn’t panic. I didn’t even cry. Instead, I started a mental spreadsheet.

I was waiting for the wealthiest, most powerful prince in the hemisphere to storm the gates, sweep me off my feet, and marry me—effectively bailing my kingdom out of its spiraling national debt.

The Draconis Chime echoed through the limestone halls.

A brave prince stood there, jaw set with that classic, tiresome heroic resolve. "Beautiful Princess," he shouted, "I shall slay this beast and deliver you from this shadow!" The dragon didn’t even stand up.

With one bored flick of a claw, he snapped the prince’s legendary blade in half and swatted him into the next time zone. A year passed.

In the Valley of Dragons, the pile of broken swords began to resemble a mountain range.

The dragon narrowed his eyes at me, clearly irritated. "None of them are stronger than you," he grumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. "How much longer are you planning on overstaying your welcome?" 1 It started when I was sixteen.

A dragon with emerald eyes began circling the outskirts of the valley. In this world, dragons had a type: they only kidnapped princesses from the weakest, most pathetic kingdoms.

My home, Sylvaris, fit the bill perfectly. But I wasn’t exactly a damsel.

I dressed as a palace knight, intercepted the beast at the border, and severed its right claw with a single, clean strike. "Too weak," I told the bleeding lizard. "Send someone better." A month later, a crimsoneyed dragon descended from the deep valley.

Again, I donned my armor. Again, I lopped off a claw. "Still too weak," I sighed. "Send the boss." I expected a silvereyed titan.

Instead, the sky turned to fire as the most regal creature I’d ever seen drifted down.

He was massive, his scales a blinding, pearlescent white that shimmered like crushed diamonds under the sun. His eyes? Molten gold. "Quick, Seraphina!

Into the dress!" my father hissed, scrambling toward me. "Ow—Dad, watch the hair!

You’re pulling!" After a frantic, undignified scramble, I was stuffed into a heavy rubyencrusted gown I usually only wore for state funerals.

Raw pearls were woven into my blonde hair.

The entire court of Sylvaris lined up to "rescue" me by handing me over. "Honorable Master Dragon," I said, curtsying with practiced grace. "I am Princess Seraphina of Sylvaris." The dragon huffed, a puff of smoke curling from his nostrils. "Where is your knight?" "She’s… away.

On a journey of selfdiscovery." The dragon let out a sound that might have been a chuckle. He extended a massive, terrifying claw. "Come then, little spark.

Follow me." I stepped onto his palm.

Under the worried yet oddly hopeful gazes of my subjects, we took to the sky. "Do you have a name, Master Dragon?" I asked, shouting over the wind. "Elias," he replied curtly. 2 The rules were simple.

A princess gets taken. A prince defeats the dragon. A marriage contract is signed. It was the ultimate geopolitical dating service.

But powerful princes don’t waste their time on bankrupt backwaters like Sylvaris. Our ruby mines were dry, and our coffers were empty.

My marriage was the only stimulus package we had left. "Sweetheart," my father had pleaded, "you have to bag a billionaire in that valley." The problem was my "level." Based on Sylvaris's national strength, I’d usually be stuck with some lowtier green dragon on the outskirts, waiting for a prince from a kingdom only slightly less broke than mine. "I’ll handle it," I had told them.

The only way to "marry up" was to be stolen by the strongest dragon in existence. To ensure that, I’d had to personally vet the kidnappers.

Sylvaris wasn't supposed to have a knight capable of maiming dragons, but they didn't know about my secret: in my past life, I was Lyra, a legendary Master of the Blade.

I had succeeded. I was now the "guest" of the Apex. 3 Elias’s treasure chamber was enough to make my head spin.

Mountains of gold, rivers of gems—I felt a physical ache in my chest thinking about how much of this I could fit into a suitcase for my mother. "Dragons really do have a hoard instinct," I mused.

Elias narrowed his golden eyes. "It is our nature. And you, Princess of Sylvaris, are now part of that hoard. You are a collectible." "Fair enough, Elias." I didn’t cower.

I hopped onto a pile of gold coins and took a seat on a throne encrusted with sapphires the size of my fist. "If I’m a collectible, I expect to be maintained," I said, crossing my legs. "A princess of my stature shouldn't be sleeping on a pile of 'garbage.' I’d like a comfortable bed.

And this room is drafty. Can we arrange a more intimate suite for your favorite prize?" Elias didn’t incinerate me.

If anything, he seemed amused. "The princesses from the Empire usually just scream. You’re… demanding." "I prefer 'highmaintenance,'" I corrected with a smile.

That night, a small, elegant cottage made of solid gold appeared at the edge of the treasure mountain.

I fell asleep on velvet sheets, eating strawberry cake that Elias had somehow procured. This was better than living at the palace. 4 Then began the waiting game.

I spent my days wondering who would show up. A merchant king? A warrior prince? A tech mogul with a crown? To pass the time, I read and practiced my forms.

Elias brought me books and occasionally lay nearby, flicking his tail lazily to serve as a moving target for my wooden practice sword.

He seemed to understand human combat better than any beast should. "You’re too good at this, Elias," I muttered one afternoon.

I was starting to worry the princes wouldn't stand a chance. I found myself mesmerized by his silverwhite scales. I kept imagining them forged into a legendary suit of armor.

I’m sure my "I want to harvest you" stare was obvious because whenever I reached out to try and sneakily pluck a loose scale, he’d whip his tail away. "Stop that," he’d rumble, swatting me toward my gold cottage with a gust of wind. "You should learn some reverence.

The other princesses tremble in my presence." "Yes, Master Elias," I’d say, already planning my next move.

A month passed without the Draconis Chime ringing once. "Is it really that hard to find this place?" I complained, tugging on the tip of his tail. "Are the men of this generation just weak?

Elias, take me to the perimeter. I want to see the competition." He ignored me until I started tickling the sensitive scales at the end of his tail.

To my shock, the silver scales turned a faint, dusty pink.

He was ticklish. "Take me," I wheedled, softening my voice into my most persuasive "helpless princess" tone. "Just a peek?" He sighed—a literal heatwave—and offered his claw. "Fine.

Get on." I climbed onto his back instead. "The claws are too sharp; they’ll ruin my silk." "Fine," he grumbled, though his tone was soft. "Hold on." We soared.

The wind caught my hair as we looked down over the Valley of Dragons. It was a pathetic sight.

Most of the princes were stuck at the outskirts, struggling against the greeneyed dragons I’d already rejected.

None of them were fit to lead a lemonade stand, let alone my kingdom. He flew me over a jagged ravine filled with a shimmering, metallic substance.

It was a pit, hundreds of feet deep, overflowing with broken swords. "Look, Seraphina," he said, his voice dripping with draconic pride. "Every fool who tried to reach the center is represented there." I sighed. "The weak don't interest me." What I was actually thinking was: God, look at all the pommelrubies I could have salvaged from that pile.

Elias went quiet, then let out a low, melodic laugh. "You really are different from the others." From that day on, he took me to the Pit of Broken Blades every day, as if proving to me that he was the only one worthy of keeping me.

I waited patiently. Surely, the "One" would come soon. 5 The peace was broken by a visitor. A massive, obsidianblack dragon with golden eyes landed in the courtyard.

I knew of him—Dante, the dragon who specialized in kidnapping girls from the Great Empire. He was Elias’s direct rival. He was incredibly rude.

He blew a gust of smoky breath through the window of my golden cottage, literally tumbling me out onto the floor. "So," Dante sneered, looking down at me. "This is the little scrap Elias brought home from the sticks?" I wanted to punch him in his snout, but I didn't want to cause a diplomatic incident for Elias.

I stood up, dusted off my dress, and kept my voice icy. "I am Seraphina of Sylvaris. Master Elias is out.

Can I take a message?" "He spends all his time taking you to the sword pit," Dante mused. "He’s obsessed with you." "He’s merely showing off," I replied, backing toward a pile of treasure where I’d hidden a real blade. "Little princess," Dante said, his voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Come with me instead.

I won’t treat you like a trophy on a shelf. I’ll treat you like royalty." "No thanks.

I’m picky about my company." His expression flipped. "A human from a dying kingdom dares to refuse me?" He raised a black claw, a cruel light in his eyes. "Maybe you need a lesson in humility." As his claw swung down, I didn't scream.

I lunged, grabbing a hidden longsword and parrying the blow with a jarring clang. I used the momentum to slam the hilt against his sensitive nose. He blinked, stunned.

Then he laughed. "Oh, Elias found a spicy one. You’re coming with me whether you like it or not." He smashed my golden cottage with one stomp. My heart broke for my velvet bed.

He swept his tail through the treasure mountain, sending gold raining down like shrapnel. "ENOUGH!" Elias roared as he slammed into the courtyard, pinning Dante to the ground.

He draped a silver wing over me, shielding me from the falling debris. "Elias!" I cried, immediately pivoting into "victim mode." I grabbed his tail and squeezed out a few tears. "He broke my house!

He threatened me!" "I’ve got you," Elias growled. "Don't be afraid." Dante looked disgusted. "Princess, weren't you just trying to take my eye out a second ago?" I stuck my tongue out at him.

I had backup now. Elias proceeded to beat Dante into the dirt. I cheered from Elias's shoulder like a bloodthirsty spectator.

Dante, bruised and battered, glared up at us. "You really like this one, don't you, Elias?" Dante spat. "Or are you just obsessed with the memory of her? She’s dead, Elias.

This girl is just a ghost.

A replacement." Elias’s eyes turned a terrifying, bloody red. "Silence." Dante looked at me, a pitying smirk on his face. "He doesn't love you, little girl.

He loves a shadow." My heart did a strange, uncomfortable somersault. A replacement?

Who was he talking about? "Hit him again, Elias!" I shouted, trying to drown out the voice in my head. Dante flew off, laughing.

Elias gently set me down. "Are you alright?" I did a little twirl. "Perfectly fine!" But I wasn't. The feeling of being a "standin" was starting to itch.

I pointed at the ruins of my cottage. "It’s ruined." Elias took the wreckage away to be fixed. I sat alone on a pile of gold, feeling suddenly, inexplicably hollow.

Who was he looking at when he looked at me? 6 Eventually, the bell rang again. I ran after Elias, hopeful.

Standing there was a young man with hair the color of a forest fire and eyes like polished rubies. Rubies, I thought.

He matches my brand. "Beautiful Princess," he called out, his voice rich and steady. "Do not fear. I am here to rescue you." But I wasn't looking at his face.

I was looking at his sword. "Brave Prince," I called back, "where do you hail from?" "Solterra, the Kingdom of Blades." My breath hitched. Solterra.

My homeland from my previous life. "Elias," I whispered, "let me heal his wounds before you fight.

Please?" Elias shrugged. "As you wish." The royal blood of Sylvaris carried a minor healing gift. I sang the incantation, wrapping the prince in a soft white light.

When it faded, he looked refreshed. "Begin," Elias commanded. The fight was brutal. Elias exhaled a frostbreath that turned the air to glass.

The prince held his ground, chanting dragonslaying oaths. He was strong—genuinely strong. But Elias was a god. When Elias raised a lethal claw, I couldn't stop myself. "Wait!

Don't kill him!" Elias paused. "You favor this one?" "He’s… the first one to make it this far," I lied. Elias pulled back.

With a massive gust of wind, he blew the prince out of the valley. "I will be back for you!" the prince screamed as he disappeared over the horizon.

I picked up the sword he’d dropped. It was a Solterrastandard issue. I swung it, the familiar weight sending a jolt through my arm.

I unleashed a strike that cleaved a boulder in two. Elias’s eyes widened. "He is nothing compared to you," he whispered.

I looked down, my throat tight. "I miss home," I murmured, so low I thought he couldn't hear. I missed being Lyra. I missed the battlefield. A massive, warm claw lifted my chin.

It wasn't sharp; the touch was incredibly gentle. "Do not hang your head," Elias said. "You are the crown jewel of Sylvaris." He took the sword from my hand, snapped it in two, and tossed it into the pit. "If you want a sword, I will get you a better one.

My hoard does not carry the weapons of others." On my seventeenth birthday, a courier dragon arrived with a package: a customforged Solterra Masterpiece.

It was the best gift I’d ever received.