Page 16 of Dragon King’s Bullied Mate

Then another voice cut through the confusion, colder and sharper than the others, disciplined in the dangerous way only a seasoned soldier could be.

Dag.

Mikael recognized him instantly. Relief should have followed but instead, panic surged low and vicious through his chest.

I am the king.

Dag was his guard captain. Loyal beyond question, ruthless when necessary. The kind of man who would drag himself through fire if duty demanded it and never hesitate long enough to consider whether the king wished to be saved at all.

And somehow, despite knowing that Dag’s presence meant safety, the thought of being taken from this cottage filled Mikael with a deep, instinctive dread he could neither explain nor control.

I am the king.

The realization surfaced in fragments, incomplete but undeniable, and with it came the certainty that Dag would remove him from this place immediately because that was what loyal guards did. They secured the crown, removed the threat, and restored order.

But what exactly was the threat? Staying or leaving? Why did the mere idea of leaving this room and this woman feel unbearable?

His dragon stirred violently beneath the haze clouding both of them, sluggish and weakened but suddenly alert in a way Mikael could feel deep in his bones.

Mine.

The possessiveness struck him so hard his chest tightened painfully around the word. It made no sense. He barely knew the woman tending him.

Yet the thought of being carried away from her felt suffocating in a way he could not rationalize, and injury or fever no longer seemed enough to explain the fierce resistance rising inside him. Movement stirred nearby, and Mikael recognized Lyra instantly by the subtle shift in warmth beside him and the strange steadiness that seemed to follow wherever she moved.

“I told you it wasn’t him,” she said softly to Beckett. “I have to open the door.”

“They’re here for the king?”

“Yes, now get into your safe space in the closet while I deal with them.”

“But—”

“Now, Beckett.”

The sharpness in her tone carried enough authority that tiny footsteps immediately scrambled across the floorboards. The child was practiced at hiding. Even Mikael’s mind registered that.

The pounding returned.

Lyra crossed the room quickly, and Mikael tried weakly to follow the warmth leaving his side, but his hand barely shifted against the blanket before the cottage door finally opened with a burst of icy wind.

“What took so long?” Dag snapped immediately. “Do you have any idea what is at stake here?”

Mikael waited for Lyra to falter beneath the force of his captain’s temper, but it never came.

“I was tending the fire. Some things can’t safely be rushed.”

Boots crossed the cottage floorboards as Dag stepped further inside. “I knew he was here. You found him and said nothing.”

“I found an injured man in the snow.”

“The missing king,” Dag corrected coldly, anger tightening every word. “Whom every household in the region was ordered to report immediately.”

Lyra answered with calm so cool it bordered on infuriating. “I don’t receive royal orders very often out here.”

Despite the situation, laughter stirred inside Mikael. Dag, however, sounded thoroughly unimpressed.

“You didn’t think to report an injured man who clearly required medical attention?”