‘More or less. Their population suffered greatly after being separated from their mates. But madness wasn’t the reason they attacked civilians.’
Brows drawing together, his eyes searched mine for an explanation. That’s when I realised he feared the power mybond gave me. Perhaps he worried that being a fire-breather bonded to a dragon, I might one day claim the Fogoyan throne, a fact my power-hungry mother found hilarious.
Long before I ever found my beast, I begged my mother to let me yield my place in Ortensia’s royal line. That night still haunted my dreams, and some scars never faded. It was precisely why I needed to help the king conjure his dragon so he might feel grateful enough to help me escape her gilded prison.
‘Some of the nobility grew corrupt and silently joined the blood witches.' I said, meeting his hungry eyes. 'While the witches were crafting the curse to scatter the dragons, their soldiers raided their nests and stole the eggs.’
He recoiled, a muscle ticking in his cheek, his nostrils flaring as though he were trying to scent a lie. ‘Why would they steal the eggs?’
The room grew warmer again, and I wondered if his powers rose with his emotions. While others might see that as a weakness, to me it seemed surprisingly normal, a welcome contrast to the cold stoicism of most royals I had met.
‘The witches offered to share the power they siphoned from the eggs,’ I explained. ‘Dragons only attacked families of soldiers they knew were corrupt. Eye for an eye.’
‘A child for a child.’ A long breath escaped him, his shoulders relaxing as if he had finally found the missing piece he had sought. ‘I don’t understand why you’re the one to successfully conjure. My people have tried for centuries. I have tried for so long…’
The question didn't offend me, even though the implication that I wasn't worthy was woven into his words. Yet there was no malice in his tone. His voice, softer now, carried a note of genuine concern for his people.
My dragon stirred in my mind, curious about the conversation. Ever since we'd learnt I'd been ordered to coach him,Anya had insisted it was unlikely the Fogoyan King would prove worthy.
To his credit, he’d been slightly less intimidating since his return, which was a progress. The dragon grunted in my mind.
‘He threatened to whip you,’ Anya reminded.
Disregarding the proud dragon, oblivious to the empty bluster since he hadn’t actually touched me, I turned back to the conversation.
‘I don’t know what to tell you.’ My hands shook slightly as I waited for his reaction. ‘I can only share my way of conjuring her.’
The king’s head jerked back. ‘You’re bonded with a female?’
Taken aback by his reaction, I blinked before schooling my own expression. ‘Um… yes.’
Seeing his body language up close, I noted how his eyes widened before he quickly composed himself. ‘According to the lore, females pair reluctantly. They’re supposed to be wilder,’ he quipped in a rushed tone.
A wave of anger washed over me. It radiated through our bond, my dragon already imagining ways to incinerate the monarch if he dared call her “wild” again.
‘She politely requests you stop insulting half of the dragon population.’ My tone was dry. He didn’t need to know about the threats.
The king froze, stunned. Tilting his head, getting a little closer, he studied my eyes, as though expecting to glimpse the dragon within them. After a moment, he stepped back, giving me some much-needed space.
‘I didn’t mean to insult her, or any dragons. I’m merely trying to understand. Forward my apologies.’
That man clearly didn’t apologise often, but my dragon seemed satisfied enough to let it go. ‘She heard you.’
The discussion that followed lasted at least two hours. The king asked about everything, from the basics of dragon bonding to the emotional side of the connection. He hadn’t pressed me to reveal more than I was willing and made a conscious effort at politeness, or as polite as a savage king could manage, which was barely cordial. Still, it was enough.
When he was called to another meeting a foreign princess wasn’t privy to, the assistant escorted me back to the portal.
‘The king requests your presence tomorrow morning.’ The man still wouldn’t meet gaze, and I wondered what demons he might be wrestling with. Was he shy or afraid of me? Surely not. I wasn’t exactly small, but he still towered over me. Then again, my mother’s reputation preceded me.
Or perhaps he anticipated resistance; most royals weren’t used to taking orders from servants.
‘How early does he want me here?’ I asked, deliberately staring into his eyes—grey as a stormy sky streaked with silver. How could a man with such a wild gaze seem so timid?
‘Seven in the morning.’
‘Okay, I’ll be here, Mister—’
A corner of his mouth twitched. ‘Michael.’
