Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
NISSIA
Why does he hate me so much? I suppose I shouldn’t have expected anything else.
Still, when I get back to my rooms, I feel... let down. Like I had placed such high hopes on all of us finding a way to get along, to make this arrangement work, until Vizarios destroyed it.
I wish I understood him.
I fumble with my clothes as I try to take them off, trying to keep my roiling emotions from overflowing. Zephala comes to take the robes away, then helps me into my nightdress. I’ve taught her how to put on my bonnet at night to protect my hair.
What a mistake it was to trust my “husband.” I thought letting Vizarios have what he clearly wants might soften him toward me, but if anything, he has grown harder, even more unyielding. He couldn’t even promise me a simple thing.
Still, I keep it together until Zephala leaves for the night. But when I lay my head down, I close my eyes and wish Ari were here.
No one needs me. No one wants me.
I wish that I had something to keep me rooted to the earth, or I might just float away. If I did, would anyone notice?
VIZARIOS
I am left naked on my bed, rather stunned.
Just moments ago, I was soaking up the bliss of being with Ragnakor again, of surrendering to him.
He felt perfect inside me, striking the exact spot that makes me see stars.
Not to mention my wife, who watched us with wide brown eyes, the scent of her arousal perfuming the air and making my cock weep even more.
Nissia asked for my honesty, and so I gave it to her. She wanted me to agree to never go behind her back, and I can’t promise that.
I’m the king. I’ll do what I want to do, and I don’t owe her anything, even if she is my wife.
I dislike immensely that Ragnakor took her side. He’s supposed to be on my side, to defend me and protect me, not sweeten up to the human woman who was thrust upon me—the human who is an intruder.
But... it didn’t feel that way. Not at all.
While she watched us, touching herself, I thought about my cock inside her upon that pedestal.
Ragnakor’s firm hand around my throat, anchoring me to the ground while he ravaged me, all while Nissia touched herself?
It was the most erotic moment of my life.
I rub my temples, annoyed. Here I am thinking about her again when I just had the thing I’ve wanted the most: to be with the dragon I love, to feel him inside me, to look up into his intense eyes.
I get hard thinking about how he pushed me down, took me, made me his.
We both released our scent glands, so at least I have that relief.
He claimed me, too.
The scent of our coupling lingers in the air, already making me hard again. And it’s not just the scent of Ragnakor and me, but the queen, too. Something about all three mixed together makes my head swim, like a madness has taken over me.
No. I don’t need her. I won’t expose my fragile, beating heart to her, not when I have the dragon I’ve always loved.
The next day, Ragnakor is stationed outside my door as always, but he barely spares me a glance.
After having breakfast alone, I take the long, winding halls to the other end of the castle, where Syzari is waiting to talk business.
She was assailed by the wardens when they all came to visit, leaving her with a pile of demands.
“They always want things from us, but what do they give in return?” I slap a paper down on the desk after reading it.
“Well, they do pay taxes,” Syzari says with hesitance.
I sigh and rub my forehead. “We just don’t have enough resources of our own to be handing them out this way.” There’s not enough lumber in the kingdom to satisfy the warden of the south.
“Then send what you can spare, and perhaps we should ramp up our logging operations.”
I groan, stopping myself from tearing up the paper.
“We don’t have enough dragons for this, Syzari! Who would I send there to increase our workforce?”
“Then make it easier for them to do the work,” she says, a note of desperation in her voice. “Let them log all in one place.”
“No!” I snap. “We must be careful about clearing out mountainsides. We have to space it out or we’ll degrade the land and cause landslides—”
“I know, I know.” My advisor lets out a frustrated growl. “I wish your objections didn’t make sense, but they do, and so what do we do?”
I leaf through the other notes that Syzari made about each warden she spoke with.
“An heir,” one says in big letters at the top. I turn the paper around to show her, arching a brow.
“What is this?” I ask.
She sighs and rolls her eyes. “Kalara. That was what she cared about most, she said. Whether or not there would be an heir.”
I hiss between my teeth. “They will have an heir when they have one.”
Nissia could even be pregnant right now and we won’t know yet for a while. But what if it didn’t take the first time?
Oh, damn it. My cock perks up under my clothes as this thought flits through my mind. The thought of mounting her again, making her scream, her cunt pulsing and squeezing—
Syzari just shrugs, no idea what’s going on inside my head. “Kalara wasn’t the only one. Everyone came to the ceremony with a lot of hope, I think. We are dying out, Vizarios.”
Her eyes settle on me, and I know that she’s right. I know, and I hate it.
“If you can get the queen pregnant,” she says in a low, conspiratorial tone, “they will back off. And if there’s any chance she can, perhaps, convince her own people to come here—that would earn you a lot of goodwill as the new king.”
I curl my hands into fists, my claws biting into my skin. The obedience and respect of my wardens are contingent on such a stupid thing?
“If you really believe in your immigration objective, then you work with the queen directly,” I tell her, getting to my feet. “I need to stretch my legs and eat something.”
Syzari nods as I leave, waving me off. I hurry back to my rooms, a silent Ragnakor in tow. I know what I need right now.
“Rag.” I grab one of his hands, and his eyes fly to mine. “Come inside.”
He furrows his brow. “What for?”
I let out a low growl and trace my other hand down his chest. His entire bulky body goes stiff, and his expression is even more surprised.
“You know what for.” I slip my hand over his codpiece, wishing I could feel him through it.
Abruptly, Ragnakor jerks away, pushing my hand off him.
“The queen was explicit about her needs,” he says, tone guarded, his face unyielding. “I will not go against her wishes.”
Just thinking about Nissia, my cock shudders again.
“Why?” I puff my chest out in annoyance. “You are my captain of the guard, not hers.”
“She is still my superior.”
He stations himself by the door, no longer looking at me. I know when I’m being dismissed, and it irritates me down to my core that Ragnakor would dare speak to me this way, his king.
“Fine,” I snap, storming into my rooms and slamming the door behind me. I lean against it, groaning at how great my need has become already.
I fall back onto my bed, exasperated and exhausted, and it’s only halfway through the day. Now that Nissia and Ragnakor have formed a battalion of their own, where does that leave me?
NISSIA
The life of a princess has always been a tedious one, but at least in my homeland, I had Ari.
Here in Selvumrrest, there’s very little to entertain me.
Quillion is quiet and sturdy, bowing his head and saying, “Your Majesty” when I tell him my plans—which are few and far between.
He shows me around the castle grounds to help me get acquainted with my new home, but it couldn’t feel less like home for me.
Eventually, I broach the story of the bear. Quillion doesn’t go into any detail about the encounter, but he pulls a lock of brown fur away from his belt.
“The ear,” he says, flipping it over to show me. “I had to kill the beast, or it would kill me. This is all that remains.”
I’m appropriately impressed.
“Guess you couldn’t bear keeping the rest?” I say, and his lip curves up at the side. That’s the closest I’ve ever gotten to getting a smile out of him, and it’s a satisfying victory.
Most of the time, Quillion is content to stand outside the door, watching for threats and following me from place to place.
Usually I lounge in my rooms, talking for long hours with Zephala, who also accompanies me when I go to the kitchen for meals.
There’s a smaller breakfast nook behind the big dining room, where I go with my two shadows during mealtimes.
I know Zephala’s entire life story now, how she was raised in the lower quarters of the city but got a job working for a well-off courtier in the higher city. When it was announced that I was coming, many applied for the job, but after interviewing, only Zephala was chosen.
She purrs. “And what good luck it was. I’ve learned so much about hair.”
I appreciate Zephala’s company, but more and more, it makes me think of Ari.
How is her father doing now? I write her a long letter, mostly telling her about Selvumrrest and my training sessions with Ragnakor.
I give her some information about my situation with Vizarios, but not enough to truly worry her.
Then I send my note off with a pigeon, hoping I’ll hear back.
Then there are my training sessions with Ragnakor.
These are the bright spots in my life. My heart leaps when I see him waiting at my door to take me to spar, and I love the way he gives me a polite bow every time I greet him.
It is odd to remember what I witnessed—how he dominated the king as if he were the one in charge—and reconcile it with his gentle and calm demeanor the rest of the time.
But there are only so many hours I can spend in a day in the training yard. Ragnakor tries his best, but he has a job to do, and that job is not watching over me.
I’m reading a book, and don’t realize I’ve been dozing off until there comes a light knock at the door.
Zephala stirs and answers it. I hear her squeak, “Oh, hello, Captain!”
I sit up straight in my chair, eager as always. “Captain Ragnakor?” He gives me a small wave over Zephala’s shoulder. “Is it time for training again?”
“I have something else to show you,” is all he says, gesturing for me to follow him. There’s an eagerness on his face, and I wonder what it is.
This is the most excitement I’ve had all day, so I hurry along behind him as he leads me to the stable. I think perhaps we’re going for a ride, but we pass the horses, heading to the very back room where the tack is kept. When we open the door, I’m confronted by the sound of yipping.
The room is full of puppies. Adorable little brown puppies, some of them splotched with white, running around and playing. An exhausted mother lies nearby.
“They’re adorable!” I kneel and pick one up, holding it to my chest as it wriggles. It licks my face, then I set it back down on the ground to play with its littermates.
“Choose one,” Ragnakor says, crossing his arms. “To be your pet.”
He remembers that conversation about the hunting dog?
“Teach it to hunt with you,” he adds. “Perhaps it will bring you some... enjoyment.”
I look carefully into Ragnakor’s face, but he’s so good at hiding how he feels. This is such a kind gesture that I’m not sure what to make of it. He is loyal to his king, but he seems intent on making me feel welcome here, too.
At least I have that, though I wish it meant more than simply a friend trying to help a friend.
We observe the puppies for a while, discussing their personalities as they play.
I want an affectionate dog, one that will keep me company in day-to-day life as well as out on a hunt.
Eventually, I decide on a female pup who keeps coming back to me and whimpering at my feet, begging to be picked up.
Holding her in my arms, I relay my decision to the dragon overseeing the litter.
“A good choice,” says Ragnakor, petting the puppy’s head with a gentleness I didn’t expect from him. “She will be a fine companion.”
I hold her up to my face and kiss her tiny, wet nose, and I think I agree.