Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
VIZARIOS
Ragnakor doesn’t ask any questions as we make our way down the hall, and I’m grateful because I don’t want to explain myself.
I need my queen. I know I am a pathetic creature, coming back to beg her to take pity on me. But Ragnakor has made it clear that unless I make up with her, I will only continue to ache, longing for her attentions.
When we arrive at the queen’s rooms, the older guard who used to look after my father—the one with three big scars across his face—casts a suspicious look at me. I wonder what he knows. Despite this, he steps aside as I go to knock on the queen’s door.
Hurried footsteps follow on the other side. The door is jerked open, and instead of Nissia, it’s the silver dragon assigned to be her handmaid. There’s a smile on the female’s face, which quickly falls when she sees me.
“Oh,” she says, her eyes darting from me to Ragnakor. “You’re, um, here, Your Majesty.”
I squint at her. “Indeed. Where is the queen?”
“Bathing.” The handmaid looks like she isn’t sure what to do with me. “I guess... do you want to come in? And wait for her?”
I am not one to wait, but I acquiesce and the handmaid leads us inside, casting me a wary glance over her shoulder.
Does everyone who works for the queen dislike me?
The handmaid offers us chairs in the sitting room before hurrying off to the washroom. I hear low talking behind a door and roll my eyes.
“I didn’t think it would be such an event,” I remark to Ragnakor, “to visit my own wife.”
“Given that you have never once stepped foot in here, I believe it is an event.”
Nissia’s voice rises, but I can’t tell what she’s saying. There’s a crash, then some cursing. A few moments later, Nissia emerges, her eyes ablaze.
Her hair is wavy and wet. She’s wearing a robe she clearly threw on quickly because it’s not even tied, revealing a long stretch of flesh from her bosom down to her belly.
My entire body is instantly alight at the sight of her, despite the murderous look on her face.
“What are you doing here?” Nissia asks. She follows my eyes down to her exposed skin, then snatches the edge of her robe and closes it up tight with an indignant squeak.
“I am the king,” I say. “I can visit my wife when I want, can’t I?”
Her mouth falls open, and she regards me like I just spoke in another language.
“But why?” It comes out strained. I don’t like the anxious tone in her voice. Does she... fear me? My gut churns at this thought. Perhaps Syzari was right, and I have broken something. But perhaps this is my chance to repair it.
“What do you want from me?” Nissia presses. I assumed I’d know what to say when she asked me this, but now that I’m here, I have no idea how to vocalize my answer.
I need you. That’s what I want to say, but based on the fire in her dark eyes, I don’t think that she will simply fall to the bed and let me have her.
“It has been nearly a turn of the moon since the ceremony,” I begin instead. “Did you bleed?”
Nissia’s brows draw together tight as she thinks through my question. Then, she sighs and shakes her head.
“I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re asking.”
I clear my throat and fully look her in the eyes. They are arresting, large and intense, a fieriness in them that speaks to my own rising heat. I must tread carefully, though, if I am to get back into her good graces. If I tell her what I need, what I crave, she may simply send me away.
Perhaps if I frame it as part of her duties as queen, she’ll listen to me.
“The kingdom wants an heir,” I begin uncertainly. “So, that is why I’m here.”
Nissia blanches, and I sense Ragnakor tense up beside me at the same time.
“You came to... have sex?” Disgust twists my queen’s features. “That’s it? You don’t speak to me, you ignore me, you go behind my back—”
“I did not,” I growl. No, I have been, unfortunately, very celibate.
She sighs, turning her head away. “I know that you tried.”
I shoot a betrayed look at Ragnakor, but he remains stone-faced. I didn’t think I would have to face the consequences of that particular action.
Nissia gets up out of her seat. “Is that all?” she asks, tying the ribbon around her waist to keep the robe closed. I already miss that peek of dark brown skin.
“Is that all?” I repeat, sounding rather stupid. “But we’re not done yet—”
“Yes, we are done.”
She strides around the table until she is standing close to me, so close that her scent fills my nostrils. Instantly, my cock is awake, and my claws itch to grab her. All I want is to feel her again, for her little legs to wind around my hips and—
Nissia leans down so she’s speaking right into my ear canal. “I am not going to be your vessel. Having an heir is your problem, not mine.”
My mouth falls open. “But you are the queen. You are my wife!”
“So?” she asks, drawing away. “That’s in name only, as you said. I did what I was supposed to do. I came here, I married you, I did your stupid ceremony. I am not required to lie underneath you.”
Then she walks away, disappearing back into the washroom and slamming the door behind her.
I stand there staring for far too long. Damn it all, I fumbled this one very badly. Now, my wife is even angrier at me than before.
How do I repair this? Is it truly beyond saving?
“I think you should leave,” the handmaid says after a time, her head bowed.
I grimace, then head to the door. “I don’t need to be told that.” I gesture at Ragnakor to follow. A look of remorse crosses his face before he comes along.
Once we’re out in the hall, the handmaid shuts—and locks—the door behind us.
RAGNAKOR
The king is silent during the short walk back to his own quarters, his shoulders tense. I admire Nissia even more now for what she said. She refuses to be used, to be treated like cattle, and I think she might be the exact sort of queen we need right now.
What will it take to make Vizarios realize that she is, in fact, his perfect match, just because of moments like this? He needs someone to stand up to him, to put him in his place. But he also must develop some kind of tenderness if he’s to earn her affection again.
When we return, Vizarios stops at his door and leans against it with a fist.
“What do I do now?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s speaking to me or himself. “I’m going to lose my mind. I did my best, and it was not enough.”
He trails off, bowing his head until his horns rest on the door. I don’t speak.
“And you.” He turns his head to glare at me. “You sided with her. You hate me now, too, don’t you?”
It’s not spoken accusingly, but softly, sadly.
I frown. “I do not hate you at all.”
No, what I feel for Vizarios is very much the opposite.
I see how he hurts, how he lashes out to protect himself, how he refuses to let anyone in.
I want to care for him, to help him, but he has made it quite difficult.
And now I must protect the queen, too, who I have come to care for deeply as well.
“You need to mate again.” I don’t say it as a question because I know it to be true. Vizarios claimed her that day, and he has only satisfied his needs once with me. Surely his scent glands have refilled again.
As if in answer, Vizarios scratches his groin. “It itches,” he whines, finally pushing open the door. Inside, he falls onto a couch, groaning. “And that’s why I went to her! But—”
“But you have been nothing but rude to her for weeks, except when you, apparently, want to conceive an heir.”
Vizarios moans miserably. “That was not how I intended it to come out. My brain is too addled.”
I lean forward. “If you want to relieve your ache, you will have to make up quite a bit of ground, I think.”
He drops his head into his hands with a groan. “I am not going to crawl to her begging!”
“I don’t even think that would work if you did it,” I quip.
Vizarios glares daggers at me. Instead of following him inside, though, I spot one of the night guards heading toward us down the hall.
“It’s time for me to go,” I say, because I have plans tonight. I know one angry human who will want to vent her frustration.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?” Vizarios asks, his frown growing deeper.
“To spar with the queen.”
“You are still training her?” he grouses, but it has little teeth.
“You wish me to isolate her even more?” I ask. Vizarios lifts his head as the night guard takes up his position. “That will certainly make her want to open her legs for you.”
He looks rather miserable at this reminder of his failure, but he issues no further objections, so I bid him farewell and depart.
Besides, I am... interested to see Nissia tonight. I want to hear her thoughts on the events of the day, and perhaps I can help advocate for my king when he is so incapable of advocating for himself.
It is one small thing I can do.
NISSIA
My duty. That bastard.
He’s right. It is my duty. But that doesn’t mean I have to let him walk all over me.
The part I hate most is how my body reacts to that suggestion, to the idea of having Vizarios in my bed. On that pedestal, it felt as if I had seen someone else, a different dragon who I could have possibly grown to love, and who could have grown to love me in return.
That is not Vizarios, though. I was sorely mistaken. He sees me only as a tool.
After Vizarios leaves, Zephala is quiet as she dries and oils my hair like I’ve shown her. She takes her time, though, and the attention and care are a balm on my soul.
“Thank you,” I say quietly, my eyes feeling tight.
“For what?” Zephala smooths down some of my baby hairs, using one of my creams to keep them in place.
“For not... saying anything. About earlier.”
She snorts. “He may be the king, but that doesn’t mean I have to respect him.” She steps away from me to survey her work. “You were fierce with him, and I like that about you, my queen.”
I don’t know what to say to that compliment, so I just hug her. Surprised, her arms lie limp at her sides, until she slowly hugs me back.
When there comes a knock at the door, Daina barks in excitement, and I’m pleased to find Ragnakor waiting for me.
His heavy brows rise, and his stern mouth lifts on one side.
He is handsome in his own way, built thick and strong and big as an ox.
I remember how he held down Vizarios with so much power and authority, and yet he is also kind and soft.
I suppose he contains multitudes.
Leaving Daina behind with Zephala, I head to the training yard with Ragnakor, neither of us speaking. I’m eager to get going because I don’t want to talk about the king again, or our incident today.
“Your new training sword,” Ragnakor says as we enter the yard, showing me to the wall of weapons. He pulls down a new wooden sword that’s much smaller than the others.
“Wow.” I spin it around, and it’s light and easy to wield. “Thank you.”
“Of course. Now you have a fitting weapon for your size.”
We head into the yard together, and the others working out there make space for us. There are advantages to being the queen sometimes, and it’s that you get to use the training yard whenever you want.
All eyes are on me as I enter with Ragnakor. We take our starting positions, and before I can really get my feet under me, he lunges.
I dodge, dropping into a crouch because it’s the only thing I can think to do. His wooden sword sails over my head, and then I pop up again, ready to defend myself.
He keeps me on the run like that, lunging and swiping, making me work for every block. I parry as often as I can, but he’s stronger than I am, so I can only hold him off for so long.
But then, as I twist to get away from another one of the captain’s aggressive attacks, I notice his entire side is left open. Pivoting, I aim the sword at his ribcage and tap him there.
He freezes. He’s dead.
The assembled dragons let out whoops and cheers as we back away from one another. Ragnakor looks genuinely surprised.
“Clever,” he says, an even wider smile than before spreading across his face. It sends butterflies soaring in my stomach to see him smile. “Using your speed to defeat me.”
“You move fast for a big guy, but not as fast as I do.”
He laughs a big, booming laugh, and then his brow sets in a determined line.
As we continue sparring, Ragnakor wins most of our bouts, but I eke out a few victories for myself. By the time we’re both sweating and panting, the sun is nearly down. Ragnakor sets his sword on the ground in surrender, and I wipe my forehead.
“Thank you,” I say as we both hang up our swords. “For bringing me to do this. It’s good to get out and be with others.”
Ragnakor’s soft smile fades. “I am sorry that things have turned out... poorly. I believe that the king is truly trying, but he does not know how to go about it.”
It didn’t look much like it from where I was standing, but Ragnakor does know Vizarios better than I do.
“I won’t be his broodmare,” I say quietly. If he had come to me wanting me for me, perhaps it could have been different. “Perhaps if he ever spoke to me, ever sought me out... it wouldn’t feel this way.”
I’m surprised when a bulky hand lands on my shoulder. “I am sorry. You should not feel so alone.”
When he doesn’t move that hand, my body drifts into it. “Nights like tonight certainly help,” I say.
For a moment, I think that Ragnakor might deepen the touch, like I can feel a thread between us pulling taut.
“You ought to go to bed, my queen,” he says, giving me a gentle squeeze. But then he seems to remember himself and pulls away. I can’t tell if I’m imagining the flustered look on his face.
“Yes, I guess I should. Well, thank you.” We stop together at the door to my rooms. “Next time?”
“Next time,” the captain says with a brief nod, and then he turns and strides away.
I find myself wishing that he would stay.