Page 14 of Courting the Dragon King

Maybe later, when they knew each other better, Wraith would assist King Konrad’s father to move on, and Wraith could tell King Konrad about it. Perhaps he’d even be grateful.

The hope burned bright and shiny in his chest. Wraith’s hand on King Konrad’s shoulder twitched. For a wild second, he considered pressing his lips to King Konrad’s or doing something, anything to show some affection.

King Konrad glanced at him but then looked quickly away.

Wraith licked his lips.

Should I say something? Of course I should say something!

He’d seen other couples speaking as they danced during their betrothal balls. But what should Wraith say? Wraith had never had much practice with conversing with the living.

Still, I should say something. Or at least try.

“What is the Castle of the Dragons like?” Wraith asked.

King Konrad’s eyes settled on his. His eyes narrowed. His lips thinned and twitched.

Wraith tensed. Because he knew that look. He’d seen it in the shadow king’s eyes on the occasions when he’d actually looked at Wraith.

It was hatred. Cold, unbending hatred.

He hates me. King Konrad hates me. But why?

“It is a large castle. We will find you adequate accommodation there.” King Konrad’s words came out clipped and tight, like he detested having to speak to Wraith.

Suddenly, Wraith wanted to pull his hands away, tear himself from King Konrad’s arms and flee. Or shrivel and curl up on the dance floor.

His whole life he’d known one king’s hatred. It seemed his fresh start would involve a different king hating him.

But why does he hate me? What have I done to him? We’ve had nothing to do with each other!

They’d not spoken or interacted until now. Had the shadow king or someone from Necros spoken to him? Poisoned King Konrad against Wraith before they’d even properly met?

Wraith stared at his hand on the dragon king’s shoulder. He tried to suppress the shiver that travelled through his body.

It appeared that there would be no happy future in Draconia, not if the ruler of the kingdom, his husband, hated him. Wraith knew how a ruler’s hatred spread to everyone else. Others, wanting to please their king, would shun Wraith.

I’ll be just as unwanted and alone in Draconia as I am in Necros.

Or perhaps it would be worse than in his own kingdom. A flush of cold dread rushed through Wraith’s body.

This was an enemy king. Wraith would be moving into his domain. And what had he said? They’d find Wraith adequate accommodation. But what did adequate accommodation even mean? He imagined himself imprisoned and locked away in a tower or some damp dungeon.

But why does King Konrad hate me?

Wraith had no answer, but now that he knew, he could feel it rolling off the dragon king in waves. He could feel that angry gaze boring into him.

And what if he wanted to do worse to Wraith? What if he wanted to torture or hurt him? Wraith wanted to weep. What did I do to deserve my future husband’s hostility?

The music played on. They danced. Wraith did not lift his gaze again. He did not wish to see the contempt. He couldn’t bare it.

Finally, the music came to an end.

King Konrad’s hands dropped, and he stepped back and away from Wraith as quickly as he could. He bowed. After a moment, Wraith realised he should be bowing too. He lowered his head and torso, and as he rose, King Konrad stalked off without a word.

Wraith didn’t move. He remained in the middle of the dance floor. He blinked rapidly, eyes stinging. Couples came forward. The musicians started a new song, and the dancing continued. Wraith walked off.

He could feel gazes on him. Those from Necros. Those from Draconia. And everyone else’s, it seemed.