Dragon King’s Bullied Mate (Alpha Dragon Kings of Silver Peaks #5)

Chapter 1

Mikael

The wind had a way of needling through even the best gear when high enough in the Silver Snow Mountains. King Mikael Risberg of Iska Vard rode at the front of the hunting party with his eyes narrowed beneath the shadow of his hood as the chill worked its way from his cheeks down into his body.

The world stretched white and merciless in every direction, broken only by jagged ridgelines and the dark silhouettes of pine trees struggling to exist where no life should have existed.

Behind him, the elite guard kept their formation as best they could as they navigated the slippery terrain. Their horses were steady despite the treacherous footing and mist plumed through the air with each breath that vanished as quickly as it appeared.

Over Mikael’s right shoulder, just half a pace behind, his head off guard, Dag, said nothing. Mikael didn’t look at him to know he was there. He didn’t need to. Dag had been at his side since childhood, and it sometimes seemed like they shared one brain.

He knew Dag didn’t approve of being out hunting on a day with the weather heavy with snow, but Mikael had felt a tension lately with his old friend that wasn’t normal.

It wasn’t something he could put his finger on, but something was definitely bothering him.

Perhaps it was a woman that made Dag so argumentative, but Mikael had felt that a hunting trip was the perfect remedy for the attitude he had received lately.

His gaze swept the terrain for movement.

He didn’t care if it was prey as long as it was something to justify the hours spent climbing into this frozen wasteland.

Hunting was just the excuse for the simple need to be away from walls and expectations of the castle.

He had sought stillness and quiet for both himself and his head of guard.

“You’re pushing them too hard,” Dag said at last. “We’re too far from the castle in this weather.” His voice carried low but firm over the wind with words meant only for Mikael.

Mikael exhaled slowly, the sound lost in the gale, before answering without turning, “They’re elite for a reason.”

“And yet, they’re not invincible,” Dag replied, and there it was again. That edge that had been poking Mikael. The two had always spoken freely since boyhood, but Dag’s tone now was more like resistance.

A flicker of heat stirred beneath Mikael’s skin. Not anger exactly, but something that was going to force him to do something he hated doing. He ruled with firm, but relaxed, standards, and he hated having to pull rank on his friend. But Dag was backing him into a corner where he had no choice.

“I didn’t bring them here to coddle them,” Mikael said, his tone controlled with each word placed with deliberate care as he finally turned his head just enough to meet Dag’s gaze, “and I certainly didn’t come to be questioned.”

Dag held his eyes without flinching. The scar along his cheek almost glowed against his skin reddened by the winds. For a heartbeat the years between them hung balanced against a line neither of them had yet crossed but both now saw clearly.

“As you command,” Dag said at last. The words carried no submission but were ripe with sarcasm that felt to Mikael far too close to defiance.

Mikael faced forward again. He needed to end it there because if Dag didn’t knock it off, things were going to come to blows.

It had happened in the past and like all best friends, or siblings, sometimes a fight was the only way to handle things.

But he was king now, and to push further into the irritation that was simmering, especially not knowing what it was, was best not to explore in front of his men.

His dragon shifted beneath his skin. It was a slow, agitated movement that tightened his chest and sharpened his senses until every sound seemed too loud. Mikael clenched his gloved hands around the reins to steady himself and to force his other half back where it belonged.

They rode higher.

The air thinned and the silence deepened. Even the wind quieted at their altitude. Mikael held up his hand to call a halt. Despite his concerns with Dag, it wasn’t fair to take the men any further.

“We need to turn back. There’s no sign of prey up here.”

The men in the back didn’t hesitate to turn their horses and head back down without any further instructions. A wry smile twitched Mikael’s lips as the rest followed. They were good men, so he wouldn’t point out that he was to lead the pack.

“Mik, look.” Regardless of whatever was bothering him, Dag slipped into his old nickname regardless of royal status.

He saw nothing. “What do you see?”

Dag pointed again. “Just over that cliff. I believe it’s a snow cat.”

He dismounted and crept forward further out onto the ledge with his weapon ready. The snow was deep and unmarred with no tracks to indicate anything else had been there. Mikael frowned and looked back at Dag.

“There’s nothing here.”

Dag shrugged. “Maybe the altitude is causing me to see things.”

A sense of unease passed through him. Dag wasn’t one to usually succumb to anything, let alone the cold and height. He started to reverse away from the drop off when the world changed.

It was not one single thing but more like a sudden, violent distortion that rippled through the mountain. A sharp pain jolted through his shoulder and the ground beneath him suddenly tilted.

He heard his horse scream and saw it rear up as it frantically moved backwards as the ground gave way in a sickening lurch.

For a single moment, Mikael wondered if the snow cat had been behind them.

Then he understood nothing except something was impossibly wrong before the world beneath him collapsed entirely.

“Mik!” Dag’s voice cut through the chaos, but it was already too late.

The world dropped out from under him.

Snow and sky and stone spun together as Mikael tumbled down the mountain as his body struck the slope hard enough to drive the breath from his lungs before momentum seized him.

It dragged him down in a violent descent as the mountainside itself seemed to unravel.

An avalanche roared to life around him with a deafening fury.

He tried to anchor himself or grasp at anything but there was nothing except the relentless pull downward. The crushing weight built with every passing second as the snow swallowed him whole and buried him in cold so absolute he felt it burn the skin now exposed.

Something struck his side and pain flared white-hot through his ribs. Another blow glanced off his shoulder and his head snapped back as darkness flickered at the edges of his vision. Still he fell while the mountain refused to release him.

Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. Or rather, he did.

The avalanche surged past and left him half-buried in its wake.

He was pinned head down with snow packed tight around his torso and hips.

Luckily, his arms were trapped around his face which created a small pocket of air.

He used his trembling, frozen fingers to carve out a larger pocket.

He took small, shallow breaths as everyone felt like knives in his lungs.

For the most part, he could not move at all.

The cold seeped in mercilessly until he was numb.

The snow felt like it packed tighter with each breath.

Mikael forced himself to focus and push through the haze of pain and shock.

He tried to catalogue the damage to keep his mind busy.

Ribs likely fractured, shoulder dislocated or worse, head injury possible, and beneath it all the slow, creeping realization that he was alone.

There were no voices except those in his head. Worse still, his dragon was silent. Normally a little burst of heat would have greatly reduced his current predicament.

But he felt nothing.

“Dag—” he tried, but the name came out as little more than a broken exhale. He wiggled his fingers to carve out more of the snow away from his face, but they would no longer respond.

His dragon finally stirred, but it felt distant and muted, as though whatever force had torn the mountain apart had reached inside him as well.

Something was wrong. More wrong than the fall, the avalanche, or the injuries that made every breath an effort.

A burst of adrenaline mixed with anger jolted through him. He tried to wiggle to free himself, but the movement sent a sharp spike of pain through his body that stole what little strength he had left. He sagged against the frozen weight and exhaustion crept in.

This is how men die. Don’t fall asleep.

The cold deepened and his thoughts slowed.

But then, a presence surrounded him. Almost like warmth.

It was faint at first, like a contradiction so impossible his fading mind could have imagined it. But yet it grew steadily and pressed against the edges of his awareness like sunlight through his closed eyes.

Mikael stilled, what little breath he had caught in his chest as he strained to feel it again, to understand it, because there was no warmth in the Silver Snow Mountains.

And yet, it came closer.

His vision darkened further and the world narrowed to that single, impossible sensation as it drew near. With the last fragment of consciousness he had left, Mikael understood.

It’s her.