Anya cut the conversation short and withdrew, leaving me alone with the watchful monarch. My dragon would have loved a flight here, but it wasn’t a good idea to tempt the king. The jury was still out on his plans.
‘Have you been conversing with your dragon?’ He slid the chair nearest him back and gestured for me to sit.
I dreaded the moment my treacherous power felt his presence, but I couldn’t risk insulting him by sitting elsewhere. Unsurprisingly, the nearer I drew, the more my fire surged, and the harder it became to rein it in. Muscles straining, mind burning, I sat down and silently cursed.
‘Yes,’ I confessed, my voice hoarse. ‘She was reminiscing about the Cave City below your mountains.’
Pupils widening, he kept leaning closer until his elbows nearly brushed mine on the dark marble table. ‘Your dragon is from my kingdom?’
The way his irises lit up made it seem like they shimmered. ‘Doesn’t she want to visit her old home?’ The question sounded more like a demand.
I suspected I was still alive only because dragons needed to choose to bond; otherwise, he would have disposed of me yesterday and taken Anya forhimself.
‘Her family is. Maybe one day.’ If he proved I wasn’t just a means to an end—or at least that he had no murderous intentions.
Worried about the direction of our conversation, I decided to change the subject. ‘Quite the spread for breakfast, isn’t it?’
Assessing my options, I found every manner of fruit, eggs, cereal, pancakes, waffles, bagels, white and wholemeal bread, jams, cheese, ham, vegetable platters and, for some reason, a lobster. It was overwhelming, excessive, and remarkably fitting for the head of this court.
‘I couldn’t exactly ask my spies about your preferences since you virtually don’t exist, witch,’ the king snapped, his cold glare sending shivers down my spine.
My body stilled while I kept observing the tiniest movements of the brute seated inches away. Anger was never a good emotion to be around, especially when it came wrapped in muscle and power.
Keeping my tone even, I avoided his gaze and replied softly, ‘A piece of toast would have sufficed.’
He leaned back in his chair, a sneer tugging at his lips as his eyes swept over me. ‘Is that what you usually eat? Explains a lot.’
‘What the hell is that supposed to mean?’ Sensitive to criticism, the words slipped out before I could stop them. His vicious smirk only widened.
Of course he’d found my soft spot. Judging by his behaviour, there was little he missed; the man probably psychoanalysed the way I buttered my bread.
Having achieved his petty victory, he rasped, ‘Listen, I adore our little chit-chats, but you should eat your nutrient-dense breakfast so we can get on with conjuring.’
I didn’t feel like prolonging the pointless exchange either. Eating my avocado toast, I ignored his loaded looks and the way he obviously disapprovedof me.
Though I had to admit, even if I didn’t like the Fogoyan King—infuriating and mean as he was—going to all this trouble over my breakfast was a kind gesture.
From a vile psychopath, but kind nonetheless.
After breakfast, as we quietly walked through the surprisingly airy castle, I was struck by the abundance of houseplants throughout the court. I had expected dirt, heat, and lava surrounded by volcanoes, not this.
Throughout my life I had tried many times to learn more about the land that birthed half my power. But the Fogoyans had closed themselves off after the Blood Witch War four hundred years ago, and even more so once conflict arose between them and the Ortensians over the Gem Fields.
The former monarch, King Louis, had attended committees organised by the Elders, but he rarely ventured beyond them. When his son, the current ruler, took the throne, he closed their borders entirely—nobody in and nobody out. That wasn’t all. He sent spies to retrieve or eliminate anyone who knew too much. Notoriously secretive as he was, he went by his last name, keeping his true one hidden.
No one that paranoid should rule.
We finally reached the glass doors leading to the courtyard, and his assistant held them open, his eyes darting between the king and me.
‘Thanks, Michael,’ I murmured, offering him a shy smile.
‘Michael? I didn’t realise you two have gotten so acquainted already,’ the man scoffed, striding past us towards a clearing.
I feared he might take his unpleasantness out on Mike, but the assistant seemed unfazed. He winked at me, and for a second, I wondered if I’d imagined it.
‘You don’t fear him,’ I said, fascinated by the shift in his demeanour.
‘No,’ he replied simply, gently placing a hand on my back to guide me forward.
