The Dragon Prince's Little Witch

ELORA’S POV

"What the fuck?" The curse flew out of my mouth before I could even stop it; a bucket of filthy gray water splashed across the floor that I had spent the last few hours scrubbing. Dirt, food scraps, and muddy footprints spread over clean tiles, mocking every second of my hard work.

"Oh dear," Mrs. Harlow, the lady in charge of the foster home, said dramatically pressing a hand against her chest as if this whole mess she had created had shocked her. "Would you look at that? I slipped." Liar! I wanted to screamed at her face, that was a lie, she didn't slipped, she had looked me straight in the eyes before tipping the bucket over, my fingers tightened around the mop handle until my knuckles turned white, I whispered in my head, two more weeks, just two more weeks Elora, and you will be out of here, in two weeks I will turned eighteen, that is what they all say. Two more weeks and I will no longer belong to this miserable foster home; two more weeks I will be an adult, and I will be free to leave this hellhole. I took a slow breath, forcing myself to stay calm. Don't react, don't use your magic, don't let them see. That had become my life for the past ten years since I found out I was a witch, one of those creatures the dragons hated. My hand had slowly moved to my necklace, the one my mother gifted me, I still couldn't forget her words in my head

'Elora dear, promise me, you will always wear this to keep your scent hidden, to hide you from the world of dragons till your father comes for you.' Father? The one, I didn't know who he was. The Father, I had waited for years to show up and tell me, I am here to take you home. For years I had hoped he would come, but he never did, and I had lost hope.

"I was almost done." My voice came out quieter than I intended. "Why did you do that?" Mrs. Harlow's lips curled into the same hateful smile she had worn for years, ever since that night, that I had told her that her husband, Mr. Harlow Martin had cornered me in the laundry room and tried to force himself on me, I had been sixteen, terrified, shaking, instead of believing me, she slapped me across the face, she called me a liar, a seductress, a filthy little attention seeker trying to steal her husband, since then every single day inside this foster home had become it's own special version of hell.

"You should be grateful," she sneered, showing her true intentions, "it gives you something useful to do." I swallowed the anger burning in my throat.

"I have been cleaning since dawn, and now, when I thought I was almost done so I could rest, you just mess it up again."

"Oops!" She closed her lips dramatically. "My bad; you just have to clean again until I say you are done." Something inside me snapped, is she being for real? And somehow I couldn't control my anger.

"I said..." I lifted my head and stared directly into her eyes. "Why did you do that?" My voice came out colder than I intended, and the room suddenly froze; Mrs. Harlow's expression twisted into rage.

"Lower your gaze!" I blinked.

"What?"

"I said lower your gaze, you dirty little slut!"

"No!" The word came out before fear could stop it.

"No?" She repeated, I folded my arms under my bosom.

"Why should I?" I asked, and her face turned red in anger.

"You insolent witch!" I almost wanted to laugh at her words if only she knew that I was truly a witch then she wouldn't had used those words for me, she wouldn't even dare mention it but of course, she had no idea who I am and there is no way in hell I would let any of them know because the dragons will hunt me down and end me, just like they did my mother. More than a decade ago, every witch had been hunted, burned, and executed along with the Fae because the dragons thought the witches were supporting the Fae when the war broke out between the dragons and the Fae. From then on, anyone born with magic learned one thing before they even learned how to walk: hide your power or die. But they all chose to hide, and I was no exception. Every strange thing that happened around me, every flicker of power, every whisper of wind responding to my emotions, I buried it deep; even my irregular eyes I had hidden. No one could ever know. Mrs. Harlow raised her hand. I'm going to teach you some manners!" Her palm rushed toward my face; something inside me screamed at me to stop her. A single spell, one tiny burst of magic, would send her flying across the room and leave her with broken bones, but before I could even do any of that, someone grabbed her wrist.

"Enough!" The deep, male voice made my stomach twist; it was Mr. Martin. Mrs. Harlow spun toward her husband.

"What are you doing?" She snarled.

"You are overreacting." In anger, she yanked her arm free.

"What now?" She shouted, "You are taking the side of this disgusting girl?" His eyes flickered to me for just a second, but I could see something dark flash behind his eyes.

"No, I am not," he answered calmly, "I'm simply saying there is no need for violence." He muttered then he looked at me. "You," I stiffened, "get out of here." I frowned, what is the stupid man up to? That wasn't like him. Normally, he would use this as an excuse to keep me close, to brush against me, to smile in ways that made my skin crawl, but today he looked too excited, like he was in some kind of mood only he understood. I looked at him, confused, picked up my cleaning mop and bucket before walking away. I didn't question my luck, not today. I simply walked away. As soon as I stepped into the kitchen, whispers filled the room; I knew they were about me before anyone even spoke.

"They are fighting over her again."

"Poor thing." I ignored them while I opened the cupboard and reached for another bucket.

"She actually thinks Sir Martin was protecting her." Giggles erupted immediately. One of the girls said that; I clenched my jaw. Another girl snorted.

"She had no idea what was coming."

"The obsidian feast." One of them voiced it out, and those words made my hand freeze around the bucket. I had heard that name before, only in whispers, only after lights out, but I had no idea what it was because nobody ever explained what it meant.

"What is it?" Another younger girl asked.

"You seriously don't know?" The older girl grinned. "It's the feast where dragons come looking for brides." My stomach tightened.

"What?"

"They visit foster homes, orphanages, and anywhere unwanted girls live; they buy them off." I slowly turned around, but didn't dare to interrupt their conversation.

"Really?" One of the girls asked all excited.

"Yes, the dragons bid against each other; the highest bidder gets the girl. They don't marry for love; they collect wives." Another burst into laughter. "But only virgins are worth anything."

"Really?"

"Of course, they inspect every girl, if you are pure, your price goes up, but if you are not," she shrugged, "you become disqualified." Someone glanced toward me.

"Do you think Elora is still a virgin?"

"I don't know." Another girl giggled.

"If I were her, I would lose it before the feast."

"Why?"

"So no dragon would want me." More laughter,

"But honestly..." The older girl, whose name is Freya, looked up and down at me with disgust. "Who would even sleep with her? She is weird; with those eyes of hers, they are creepy, like she is cursed, and her skin looks dirty; she is not even beautiful." I couldn't breathe, my strange eyes was a turned off, silver with hints of violet, but those weren't my real eyes colors, I couldn't even tell which it was because they weren't regular but all I know my two eyes don't carried the same colors, and this was the reason children avoid me, the reason adults whispered and the reason nobody wanted to adopt me, they call me ugly but I don't think I was, I was just different enough to become everyone's favorite target. Anger filled my chest; the bucket slipped from my hand and crashed to the ground; the water exploded across the kitchen floor; the laughter stopped instantly, and every pair of eyes stared at me.

"You people have nothing better to do than gossip about me?" I growled. No one answered. I took one step closer. "I'm so tired of hearing my name every time I walk into a room." The oldest girl recovered first, she folded her arms.

"You won't have to hear us much longer."

"What does that mean?"

"In two weeks, you will be gone." She smiled. "Either some dragon buys you, or you will spend the rest of your life cleaning after one." She looked at me in disgust. "Or maybe you will be a maid." Their laughter filled the room; anger boiled in me as their words echoed inside my head. So Martin was going to put me up for sale. I didn't say another word, I didn't want to stay another second because I might lose control, my magic prickled beneath my skin, the air around me grew warmer, a spoon on the counter rattled, I shut my eyes, shook my head, not now, and with that I spun around and stormed outside before anyone noticed. The cool afternoon breeze hit my face, I kept walking pass the rusted gate, past the broken fence pass the narrow street that marked the edge of Emberviel city, Drakhold Kingdom, the slum welcome me with cracked stone roads, leaning houses, and the smell of smoke drifting from countless chimneys, this side of the kingdom wasn’t beautiful but no one here care enough to stared to throw harsh words on me and that made it beautiful for me and peaceful, I shoved my hands into my pocket.

"No friends," I muttered bitterly, "no family, no future, just me, always me." I kicked a loose stone down the road. Maybe the girls were lying, maybe this obsidian feast wasn't real, maybe the dragons didn't actually buy women, right? A cold feeling settled in my stomach. If it wasn't real, those girls wouldn't talk about it, and Martin would be nice; he wouldn't smile at me like he had won the lottery. I sighed, throwing my head to the sky. "If all these were true, then I need to get out of that hellhole." I pulled out the few coins in my pocket; it wouldn't even be enough for me to survive, but I was sure it could take me somewhere before I could get a job. I had barely taken another step when something slammed into my back; the impact knocked the breath from my lungs. "Ah!" I stumbled forward, nearly crashing into the dirt road before catching myself. "What the..." I spun around, heart pounding, and my voice stopped.