Page 13 of Brutal Dragon King (Nayara Dragon Kings #1)

Toying with the dagger, I skim my fingers over the cast-iron handle, watching the way the silver blade glints beneath the sunlight filtering through the window.

Perched on the bed with my knees bent toward my chest, I control my breathing, my cheeks crusted with the tears I spilled after rushing back to the palace in King Haid?n's quarters.

He had no right speaking to me that way!

Actually, he had every right to do it, since I'm nothing more than his breeding slave, and he is the king.

Even knowing this, I can't help but be affected by his tone and what he said to me.

He doesn't mind lending out his slaves?

How many sex slaves have there been before me?

Why do I suddenly feel jealous about it?

Gulping to subdue these horrendous feelings, I stare at the dagger I'd sneaked out of the king's bedroom, wrapping one hand over the handle and lifting it. I look like a crazed woman in my reflection in the dressing table mirror, my hair tousled and eyes puffy from crying while I hold the dagger in a position to strike.

I would have killed him on the spot if I had the chance, withstanding the consequences of his brothers being right there.

It's not like their presence stopped him from talking down to me as if I was nothing.

Everyone keeps reminding me that I am a slave, not passing up an opportunity to bring me down for what I am by birth as a human. It's not like I chose this life, but I'm constantly made to feel as if it's a fault of mine that I'm human.

Not anymore.

I will show the king that he is not superior to me and that he's just as vulnerable as a human when I get the perfect chance to use this dagger on him.

It's time I took the plotting of my revenge seriously, and found a way to use the dagger on him. It's my only hope of releasing myself from these frightening feelings that keep me bound to becoming weak and affected when he spits vulgar words of contempt at me.

I should hate him enough not to be fazed. I do hate him, I remind myself as I glare at my reflection with conviction to renew my desire for revenge.

The constant badgering and reminders that I'm the slave can be used to my advantage.

What if I stopped feeling sorry for myself and used my status as a slave as a stepping stone for executing my plan?

If I stopped defying the king and accepted that I was his breeding slave, I could get close enough to use the dagger.

I could—

My scheming mind comes to an abrupt halt when I hear a commotion outside in the courtyard. Quickly tucking the dagger in its safe hiding spot behind the mattress when my gut erupts in panic, I straighten myself out and wipe away the tears.

Tears that should not have been shed in the first place. I should know by now that I am not important enough to the king for him to spare my dignity in front of others. Just as he's not important to me for me to spare his life.

I will find a way to kill him using that dagger. Call it gut instinct that alerts me that “dragonclaw” is a lethal thing against the dragons. I've always been able to trust my gut in the past, and now that I've been given the opportunity for revenge, that instinct of mine couldn't be louder.

Just as loud as it is right now to inform me that whatever the disturbance is at the bottom of the palace, it's here for me.

As I tread carefully toward the balcony, I gulp to swallow down my trepidations before strengthening my resolve to face what it is that plans on coming my way. It's almost as if I can feel the determination of someone to get to me, but for some strange reason, it's not the king.

Clutching my mother's pendant for strength as if it's charged with energy, one hand instinctively goes to my belly as if drawing the strength of my intuition. My brows furrow in confusion since I've never felt the need to physically trust my gut with a hand. When I reach the balcony platform and gaze down at the courtyard below, I realize that it's not the king who just returned to the palace.

I saw him leaving earlier with his brothers and guard just after that scene in the garden, so I'd been expecting his return. Perhaps even anticipate it as an opportunity to execute my revenge, even if I haven't devised a proper plan yet.

All I know, for now, is that I can use my slave position to my advantage and catch the king off-guard when the opportunity presents itself. I have to be smart about this, since the king is an intelligent dragon and always seems to be one step ahead, knowing exactly how to dispel my anger by throwing me into a whirlwind of desire that has me forgetting about my hatred. I'll have to be strong.

Right now, I have another reason to be strong, and it comes in the form of a stunningly beautiful woman with blonde hair and green, luminously radiant eyes. She flaunts her perfect, tall body in a kaftan of blues and burgundies, the sleeves flowing out like magical waves on either side of her.

The Queen Mother has arrived, and her arrival has drawn the attention of servants and guards who appear captivated by her presence as they bow all around her. But her attention is elsewhere, eyes pointed directly at me and holding me in a trance when I meet them.

My breath hitches in my throat, hands falling to my sides as my head lowers in a bow. When I lift my head again, I witness magick occur when the Queen Mother employs her witch powers, and the sleeves of her dress swirl around her ankles, turning into a cyclone at her feet. The force of the vortex causes her to levitate off the ground, the stirring lifting her gracefully until she's reached the balcony, where it carries her over the rails and lands her effortlessly on her feet.

My breath is stolen once again, and I'm in awe of what I just witnessed. I bow again, the act occurring naturally as the Queen Mother commands that level of respect just by being.

“Hello, child-bearer…” she purrs, a long, manicured finger curling out to tilt my chin.

When I meet her eyes again, she wears a coy, formidable smirk as she stares down at me.

“Have you been progressing with your assignment?” she asks with a raised brow.

“A—assignment?” I stammer. I don't remember receiving instructions to carry out any task.

The Queen Mother chuckles as she removes her finger from my chin and gracefully saunters into the guest bedroom. She takes a look around, humming as if she's agreeing to something, then drapes herself over the chaise sofa beside the dressing table.

She appears so picture-perfect, as if she's posing for her portrait to be painted, while she remains scrutinizing me with her penetrating gaze.

My eyes flicker to the bed where I'd hidden the dagger, but I quickly turn them back to Queen Mother Mana, not wanting her to become suspicious of me.

Blocking out my thoughts in the hope that she won't be able to read my mind and uncover my deepest, darkest fantasy and yearning for revenge, I swallow back my fears.

“That's why I'm here, child-bearer…” she laments with twinkling eyes. “... To ensure that you're not doing anything you shouldn't be doing.”

“L—like what?” I ask boldly, to which both her brows lift.

“Like attempt to flee the palace, or do anything untoward,” she chimes back.

My frown deepens, and something inside me snaps. “Why?!” I retort, despite being in the presence of the Queen Mother who, up until now, seemed to demand my respect. My resistance to her was futile until this moment.

“Because I'm the king's slave and should do as I'm told?” Something inside me flickers, set off by a sudden need to become defensive to hide my true intentions. I lift my arms up and drop them to my sides defeatedly. “Everyone keeps reminding me that I'm the slave. Do you think I don't know that already?” My breath comes in hot, haggard pants as if I'd just run a marathon.

Mana remains quiet, her lips pressed into a firm line as her eyes narrow at me. For a split second, I thought I saw her approval, as if she'd just become intrigued by my response, when the corner of her mouth twitched as though she was about to smirk proudly.

“You're a feisty one, aren't you?” Mana chuckles lowly as she peels herself from the chaise lounger and swiftly approaches me as if floating forward. “Might I remind you that your task here is to become with child? The king's child, and sire an heir for the Kingdom of The Spine?”

I gulp from how imposing her presence is, realization dawning on me at that moment with the crippling weight of that reminder setting in.

I'd been so caught up in the initial back and forth with the king, thanks to the immensity of the physical attraction I felt for him, and now my aching need to fulfill my own quest, that I'd been neglecting what I'm truly here for.

Sire an heir for the Kingdom…

Mana hums, drawing my attention back to her as a smooth finger hooks beneath my chin. “Your only true purpose here is to be the human incubator. You didn't forget, did you?”

I'm compelled to let out a skittish whimper as I nod slowly, letting the reminder settle in. Mana's emerald eyes glow as if she's about to put me under a spell, and perhaps that's why I suddenly feel the weight of the reminder wash over me with horrendously daunting consequences.

“N-no…” I whisper tentatively, to which the witch smiles.

“Good,” Mana chuckles. “So don't get any bright ideas about fighting what is inevitable. For all we know, you might already be with child. Your time here is ticking, child-bearer. Just because the king kept you alive through your insolence does not mean he won't take care of things once the child is born.”

I nod tersely, gulping as her words leave a bitter aftertaste on my tongue. She removes her hooked finger from my chin and then floats across the room toward the main door.

I can't help but watch in awe of her effortless grace, while my mind remains fixed on the task I'd just been reminded of. She throws me a wink as she turns around with long, cascading sleeves twirling around her perfectly sculpted figure.

“Don't let that temper of yours fool you, child-bearer… Perhaps the reminders are exactly what you need to know about your place in this kingdom. All you're meant to do is become pregnant and give birth to a healthy dragon cub.”

“A dragon cub?” I murmur without thinking.

The Queen Mother rolls her eyes and sighs.

“Did you think you were to give birth to an ordinary human?” She shakes her head distastefully. “A dragon cub will be born as the next in line for the king's throne. You will not be carrying an ordinary child.”

Blinking fervently, I don't know why I'm suddenly interested in the details of the pregnancy. Perhaps I have more things to consider, and more options to weigh if I go through with my plan. I need to know what I'm dealing with.

“Does that mean that the pregnancy will not be normal?” I ask, wondering if I'll even be able to move, let alone get my revenge on the king.

“Of course, not,” Mana reveals, clicking her tongue. “Since my son, King Haid?n, is a dragon shifter, the pregnancy will last only three months before you give birth.”

“Will I survive the birth?” I ask with a nervous gulp.

The Queen Mother nods briskly. “Only if you get your act together and stop being defiant. That's the only thing that will get you killed.”

With that, the Queen Mother Mana turns and swiftly exits the room, the door closing behind her with a deliberate thud that resonates in my soul as my spirit takes a knock again.

Three months?

I'll have to act quickly, cleverly, if I want to get revenge for what the king did to my parents. I don't have much time, and I have no idea what will happen to me once I've given birth to the dragon cub.

Will I be expelled from the kingdom? Will I be shipped off to some exile island, or never see the light of day again?

Or worse, will the king take my life to punish me for all my defiance? Is he keeping me alive only to get what he needs from me, only to dispose of me when the child comes?

Gulping, my hand absentmindedly lifts to cup my belly as I wonder if I'm already pregnant. Perhaps Mana knows more than she's letting on, and that's why she'd come to give me a warning.

It begs the question if I'm already pregnant.

Not just any child, but the dragon king's child.

My child. Haid?n's child.

Our child.

Does this change the trajectory of my plans? Will I falter, and forgive him?

No, I think as my hand slides up to my neck where I reaffirm my convictions by touching my mother's necklace. What the king did to my family is unforgivable, and I will not rest until I've taken his life.