Page 15 of Dreams and Dragon Wings (Clean Fairytales for Adults #2)

Aurelia

Now

M y feet scrabble against the marble floor—slipping, fighting for purchase—but it’s no use.

Friedemar drags me onward. Up the stairs. To the fifth floor of the palace. To the end of the hall, where he throws open a heavy door, wrenches the mask from my face, and shoves me inside.

I stumble into darkness and crash into something solid: a desk. Moonlight spills through the balcony doors, casting long shadows across the enormous room. Tapestries adorn the walls. Gilded furniture. A thick, plush carpet underfoot. A four-poster bed draped with silken gauze.

My heart beats a staccato rhythm against my ribs as the door slams shut behind us.

I am alone. Alone in a bedroom with the king.

“Now, darling,” he rumbles, his voice sounding from just behind me. His booted feet fall heavily against the floor, growing closer by the moment. “You and I have some matters to discuss.”

My pulse quickens. I scour the desk for anything I might use as a weapon. My fingers close around the first thing I find—a letter opener. Small. Sharp.

It will have to do.

When Friedemar seizes my shoulder and wrenches me around, I slash outward, aiming for his stomach. He hisses and jerks back.

The blaze in his eyes tells me all I need to know. Pain. Rage.

I hurt him.

He retaliates instantly.

The back of his hand slams into my mouth. White-hot pain explodes in its wake.

And something else—something strange.

Something that surges through me like a crack of lightning, a peal of thunder, rendering me breathless. Light-headed.

I reel, losing my balance, crashing to the floor. The letter opener flies from my fingers. The carpet muffles my landing, but not the sting. Not the shock.

My mouth throbs. My cheek blazes. My thoughts scatter.

A man has never struck me before.

“Do not do that again,” he warns from where he now looms over me, his tone calm.

Too calm.

But I barely hear him over the sudden rush of blood in my ears. Over the staccato pounding of my heart. Over the fury that roars to life within my heart

Raw. Primal. That rage surges through me like wildfire, devouring all in its path.

My fear. My good sense.

Ignoring the pain throbbing through my face, ignoring the tang of copper coating my tongue, I bare my teeth and lunge toward the man who dared strike me .

I have no plan. No thoughts. No desire at all beyond hurting him in kind.

With claw, fang, or flame.

Friedemar’s foot catches me in the stomach, knocking the air from my lungs and the fight from my heart as I crash back to the floor. I land hard, gasping for breath.

What is wrong with me? Never before have I ever felt so… angry .

I curl in on myself, my arms protecting my midsection, and swallow down a sob.

I will not cry in front of this man. I will not let him see me break.

“Now, then,” he says, as if my brief assault were a mere rude interruption, as if the blood slowly staining his doublet were a mild inconvenience.

“As I was saying—you will stay here for the night as my guest. Anything you desire will be yours. Simply call for a servant, and they will ensure you have what you need. I want to make sure you’re comfortable here in your new home, my dear Jewel. ”

Jewel he calls me again.

Am I… truly not human?

Or is he simply as mad as he is cruel?

My arms tighten around my stomach to hide the trembles wracking my form. I can’t consider such things right now. I have more important matters to deal with.

Later , I promise myself. I can consider my humanity later.

For now, I stare up at this man—this lunatic—and whisper, “The only thing I desire is my freedom, Your Majesty.”

Clearly unfazed, he drawls, “You may have anything but that.”

My mind races, desperate for a way out of this.

If I can only get him to leave, perhaps I can escape down the balcony.

“But your guests,” I softly remind Friedemar, trying to reason with him as I cautiously ease myself back to a sitting position. I am still light-headed, but at least my odd fit of rage has passed. “Your ball. There are still so many ladies waiting to meet you…”

He snorts and tilts his head to the side. “Why would I care about any of that now? I have what I want.” His gaze scrapes over me, as if memorizing every inch.

I flinch and look away.

“A Jewel…” Friedemar breathes, a hint of awe seeping into his voice. “And here I thought you were all dead.” He chuckles—a dry sound. “It would seem my dragon friend was correct. There was a Jewel hiding in Briarhold.”

My heart skips a beat. A dragon friend? Surely not Bene.

Bene would never associate with such a cretin.

As if sensing my unflattering thoughts about him, his arm snakes toward me like a viper striking. His fingers coil around my wrist once more.

“No—” It’s all I manage to choke out before he yanks me to my feet.

Within the darkness, his face looms close. Too close.

“And to think I once promised I would report any whispers of a living Jewel to this friend,” he exhales, caressing my mouth with his disgusting breath. “But I do think I will be keeping you for myself after all.”

“Release me,” I demand with all the authority I can muster, “and I will spare your life, Friedemar, son of Aldemar.”

He freezes, his eyes searching mine.

I lift my chin and pray he cannot hear the way my heart thunders in my chest. If he wants to believe I am some powerful creature of legend, I can certainly play the part.

A faint smile hitches at the corner of his mouth.

“You’re bleeding,” he whispers as if he cares, as if he wasn’t the one to make me bleed in the first place. His hand reaches toward me, like he intends to swipe away the blood from my lips with his thumb. “It would seem we’ve gotten off to a bad start.”

A sound bursts out of me—something caught between a laugh and a sob. Sharp. Hysterical. I twitch away from him before his touch can land.

“Release me,” I repeat, drawing out each syllable. “And I will spare your life.”

“You’re not going to kill me,” he coolly points out, calling my bluff. “If you were, you would have done so already when I had your”—his lip curls—“ fiancé arrested.”

I suck in a deep breath and will myself to remain calm. Not for the sake of my glow—I no longer care about that—but for the sake of my swiftly racing thoughts.

I stare at him, waiting for his next move.

He surprises me by breaking eye contact first. Silent, he moves about the bedroom, busying himself with lighting the oil lanterns fixed to the walls.

My brow furrows as I watch him work. “What are you going to do with him?”

Friedemar shoots me a confused look over his shoulder. “Who?”

“The man you arrested,” I bite out. “Lord Reginald Lockhart.”

He smiles and returns to lighting the lanterns. “Ah, yes. The clockwork man.” After a brief pause, he reveals, “He will be hanged in the morning.”

I forget how to breathe.

“What?” I gasp. “But you can’t. He’s… he’s a gentleman , not some common criminal.”

“How right you are, my dear,” Friedemar agrees instantly. Turning to face me again, he bluntly corrects, “He will be beheaded, then.”

Something must pass across my face. Something that causes Friedemar to scoff. “The man drew live steel on his sovereign. That is treason, and it cannot go unpunished.”

His eyes blaze across me again, sending a shiver down my spine and igniting a fresh spark of fury in my chest.

No . I try to snuff out my rage. I don’t want to lose control again.

Friedemar continues, “Not to mention the fact that the man claims to be your intended. He must die for that alone, to ensure no one can question the validity of our marriage.”

Marriage . As if I would ever marry such a monster.

“You speak rather plainly for a gentleman, Your Majesty,” I delicately observe.

I mean it as an insult.

But he clearly takes it as a compliment. “Thank you. I merely see no reason for there to be any secrets between me and my future queen.”

My eyes take in the now well-illuminated room in a single quick sweep. The letter opener gleams on the carpet, resting between us.

A small glimmer of hope flickers to life inside me.

I snap my gaze back to his and cautiously edge toward it. “I will never marry you.”

“Yes, you will,” he drawls while striding toward me. Casually, his foot catches on the letter opener. He kicks it away, sending it skittering beneath the bed and out of sight. “Or else I will execute your mother alongside the clockwork man tomorrow. Now…”

His words slam into me, snuffing out what scant hope I had left.

No .

My breath catches in my throat as I stumble backward, fighting to keep the distance between us. But Friedemar continues to advance, his dark eyes firmly fixed on mine.

When I crash against the wall, he finally pauses mere inches away, hemming me in with the threat of his body.

“Weave something for me,” he purrs within that nauseating nearness. “It’s been so long since I last saw magic.”

“Weave?” I choke on the word. My ruse is at an end. “I… I can’t—”

His mood shifts in an instant—mercurial as a summer storm.

“You can,” he snarls. “And you will .”

“I can’t,” I shout back, my anger igniting again. “If I could, don’t you think I would have bound you in Air and flung you out the window the moment we entered this room?”

Those words spill from me before I can bite them back. In their wake, I freeze.

For once, a hint of uncertainty flashes across his features. His brow furrows.

I can’t help it—I laugh. Like a madwoman, I laugh. What does it matter anymore? What more can this man possibly do to me? What more do I have to lose?

He twitches away, his disgust a palpable thing.

“A Jewel who cannot weave,” he whispers, like a little boy who has just realized he was gifted a broken toy.

Before I can react, he turns and walks away. He crosses the room. He slams the door shut behind him.

A key scrapes in the lock.

Click.

I am alone.

All the fury, all the bravado, seeps from me all at once, leaving me boneless and shaking. Stumbling to the balcony doors, I fling them open.