Chapter Twenty-Five
Our meeting with King Saric was just shy of painful.
I shared what Diaya and Daha had told me, and King Saric promised to alert King Jucai when they found the Howl.
In return, King Jucai vowed to question Sir Matei about whom he'd gotten close to recently.
With business done, King Saric offered to show Jucai around the city and then take him out to the Erimbar Oasis.
King Jucai declined, citing a need to return to Kansu to protect his kingdom and dread.
King Saric, of course, understood and rode down to the wharf with us to bid the Sea King farewell.
We were leaving with more trunks than we had arrived with, the additional luggage full of gifts from King Saric.
But our company was down four since I left my guards behind.
I didn’t think I needed them. King Saric waited with his King's Guard on the seawall for the Sea Dragons to shift and swim away, with me on Sir Feilen's back.
King Jucai swam in the lead, and Sir Feilen took the rear, putting as much space between the King and me as possible. I assumed it was by Jucai's command. I closed my eyes and held on, putting mental space between us as well.
A few hours later, we entered the city of Kansu, and Jucai’s knights hired carriages to take us back to the palace. I rode in the King's carriage with him. Just the two of us. As he stared out the window, I struggled for something to say—something that wouldn't anger him.
“I hope you enjoyed your visit to Zaru, Your Majesty.”
Eyes twitching, he looked at me. “It was pleasant, but I have suppressed my body's needs for too long.”
It was then that I noticed the tremor in his hands and the tightness in his shoulders. I knew what it was. Not anger, not even lust. It was beyond them both. Pure, primal need. And it was my fault Jucai was suffering.
“I'm sorry, sire.”
“No matter,” Jucai tried to sound casual, but there was a growl beneath his words. “I will see to it as soon as we arrive. You will have to entertain yourself today, Lord Nadar. I'm afraid I may be a while.”
My face went hot, and not from embarrassment. Nor was it just my face that warmed. Blood surged through me, shooting heat through my entire body as my dragon roared. A gasp left my parted lips, and I swayed forward.
What the fuck is this?
“Nadar?” Jucai steadied me.
His touch sent erotic tingles through me, and I jerked away. “I'm fine, Your Majesty. Thank you.”
Jucai narrowed his eyes at me. “You do not seem fine.”
“Neither do you. Shall we see to ourselves?”
Stiffening, he withdrew. “As you wish.”
As soon as the carriage came to a stop, Jucai bolted out of it and up the stairs.
By the time I had made it inside the palace, he was gone.
And the thought of where he was going made me sick.
Physically ill. I stumbled and nearly vomited on the pretty floor.
A slave hurried over to assist me, but I waved him off.
Somehow, I made it to the toilet in my guest suite. After heaving up the contents of my stomach, I rinsed my mouth and splashed water on my face. Dragons don't get sick, so I couldn't brush it off as something I ate. It was Jucai. I knew it, and I had to be truthful with myself.
I didn't want him to fuck anyone else.
But I had ended things and given him no other choice.
So, I removed the nautilus shell he'd given me and tossed it on the bedside table.
Then I sat on the edge of my bed and stared at the fish beyond the glass, hoping they would calm me.
I was so enraptured by the view that I didn't hear the door open.
But then I saw it—the red fish. Bright crimson with trailing fins, it hovered before me as if trying to communicate. The spirit's warning sprang to mind.
I ducked, rolling onto the floor.
A man cursed behind me. I spun to my feet and found a hooded man dressed in black, his face covered.
All I saw of him was a pair of blue eyes, the surrounding skin painted black.
In his hand was a wide, curved blade. He swung it.
I dodged and punched his wrist. He dropped the sword, but dove for me.
Head in the belly, I huffed out my air and fell onto my back.
The man pulled a blade and lifted it over my chest.
I bucked and tossed him away. We rolled away from each other and got to our feet. I should have shouted for help then, but I wasn't afraid. A Dragon can handle any opponent, even Dragons like me who have never picked up a sword. But my attacker defied logic.
He ran at me, and I punched him. I should have knocked him into a wall.
Instead, he swayed back a little. As I frowned at my ineffective hand, the bastard kicked me in the stomach.
Again with my belly! Winded, I fell back, and he was instantly there, straddling me.
I caught the flash of a dagger a second before he sank it into my chest. Screaming, I tried to hold myself still.
I could feel the blade against my heart.
If I moved too much, it would slice through.
A knife in the heart wouldn't kill me, but it would put me into a healing sleep, giving the man enough time to pick up his sword and cut off my head.
So, I yanked it out. Straight up. I should have been good for a few more punches after that. I wasn't. Blood gushed, and my strength went with it. As I floundered in shock, the man got up, retrieved his sword, and held it over my neck. I saw my death in his eyes. Still, I refused to look away.
But then something else moved in them—a reflection. With a roar, Bantar tackled the man.
The last thing I saw was the red fish hovering at the level of my face.