Page 12 of Poisoned Kingdom (Secrets of Dagome #1)
Reynard
I knew I should wake up, but a part of me didn’t want to, not yet. Her scent filled my soul, and I inhaled deeply, trailing my nose over the soft skin of her neck. Gods, she was my enemy, yet I could not resist her allure.
‘Rey,’ she breathed, leaning towards me.
Hair, cool and soft like golden silk, flowed through my fingers when I wrapped her thick braid around my hand to pull her closer.
My Viper didn’t resist. Her lips parted when I kissed them, and I wished I could freeze time.
Freeze it right here in this moment, where my desire was still innocent, when I’d thought she was a healer and pondered what could have been.
Now, lurking under my visceral need for her, was a fury that ruined everything.
The woman who had made me feel so alive had left me to die, and whatever spell she’d cast on me, I refused to submit to her will.
My hand tightened on her braid, yanking her away. She gasped, her hazel eyes opening wide, the green wildfire dancing in their depths captivating my soul.
‘Who are you?’ I demanded, rejecting her warmth.
The landscape of my dream transformed into a blizzard. Shock and disbelief flashed in her eyes, like they had in the forest, but I wasn’t wrong to demand answers. I wasn’t—
‘Fuck!’ I roared, jerking awake as pain exploded in my face.
My body arched, tangled in the sheets as I screamed, clawing at my scar, the spasms twisting my face into a rictus of pain, until I forced myself to stay still. To calm my erratic heartbeat, knowing this was the only way to stop the pain.
‘Haven’t you done enough, Viper? When will you stop tormenting me?’ I groaned, taking slow, deep breaths. I hated this weakness, the pain so harsh that a tear slipped from my remaining eye. It had to be her doing—the same nightmare repeating night after night, robbing me of my sleep.
A sheen of sweat covered my skin, sticky and unpleasant, but I couldn’t care less as I stared into the darkness. Ciesko’s concoction, a sleeping draught he’d promised would help, was still beside my bed, tempting me. But taking it would be admitting that I no longer controlled my body or mind.
‘ No. I won’t drug myself into oblivion. Once I find her, these dreams will stop,’ I insisted as the pain finally settled into a familiar, manageable level.
Another promise, another lie, but I needed that shred of hope before the hopelessness of my situation drove me mad.
Three weeks I’d searched, but the damn woman had disappeared without a trace.
I’d sent soldiers to the borders and had Brotherhood Observers searching the city, but she’d vanished so thoroughly I half believed she was a vila sent to lead me to my doom.
The only place I had found her was in my dreams.
‘Were you real, or did I offend the gods?’ I whispered into the dark. Was there even a point in asking?
With one final exhale, I completed the breathing exercise Ciesko had taught me; a simple thing, but the only one that helped.
No one, not even the mages or the Brotherhood poisoners, could purge the toxin from my scar.
The poison, strengthened by some sort of magic, was leaking into my flesh despite the magical lattice.
Even worse, after we tried several things to ease my painful spasms, Ciesko discovered that the containment spell he’d created weakened when my emotions peaked. He taught me to slow down my heart, but with each dream encounter, I felt my control slip.
Sleep was beyond my reach, so I dragged myself out of bed, pulling on a shirt. It was too early to don my formal attire for the day, and it wouldn’t be the first time my servants saw their king dressed casually. Not that it mattered what I wore here.
The entire wing was my private apartment.
Several rooms linked by a long corridor granted me freedom from the court’s stiff protocols.
Thick carpet cushioned my footsteps, and I felt like a wandering ghost as I walked down the empty hall.
I pushed on the door to my study, and it opened without a sound, revealing a hunched shadow.
A knife appeared in my hand, instinct taking over. If it’s another assassin . . .
Sharp awareness seized me as I stalked my way over to the desk, ready to strike, until the dim fae lantern revealed the face of my visitor.
I could barely contain my laughter. My ‘assassin’ was drooling on the desk, ink smeared across his cheek as he snored.
Has he been here all night?
‘Riordan, what in Veles’ pit are you doing here?’ I said, taking a rolled manuscript and swatting him on the head.
The mage looked up, giving me a myopic stare before propping himself up on his fist. ‘I could ask the same.’ He yawned. ‘Were you dreaming of her again?’
‘No. Yes. I don’t want to talk about it,’ I said, realising that lying to a truthseeker made no sense. ‘You’d better answer my question, or I’ll revoke your access to my private quarters.’
‘I will as soon as you explain this.’ He pulled out my new tax proposal. ‘Rey,’—he sighed—‘you can’t lower taxes for the merchants. It will affect the income of the southern province and our trade with the orcish tribes. The council will never accept it.’
I pulled the vellum from his hands. ‘And what will they do? They already call me a tyrant.’ I huffed a humourless laugh.
‘It was easy for them to love their king when I led our men to victory in the Second Necromancer’s War, when they didn’t expect me to return alive—but implement tax reforms and suddenly I’m worse than the Lich King,’ I said, turning my face away from the compassion I saw in Riordan’s eyes.
What I hadn’t told him was that every time I faced the disgruntled nobles on the Royal Council, every time I heard them complain about the laws I passed, muttering all the while about my berserker-tainted bloodline, I thought that maybe I should have died as a hero rather than survive to become the villain.
‘Stop worrying and shift your arse from my chair,’ I said instead, looking at the smudged ink. ‘And the next time you decide to take a nap, please refrain from slobbering all over the tax records.’
Riordan rolled his eyes and walked over to the drinks cabinet, reaching for the wine.
‘The war’s over, Rey. You don’t have to rush; change is good, but you need to ease the nobles into it, not push them so quickly.
I know your ideas will benefit Dagome, but these people are accustomed to doing as they please, not being led—and they’re certainly not an army that follows orders.
You’d have less trouble if you let them talk themselves into agreeing instead of employing heavy-handed military tactics to deal with the issues. ’
He was right, but not only had the war ended, but our old alliances were falling apart. I knew the only way to protect my kingdom now was to make Dagome unassailable to any enemy.
‘I don’t have time for the soft approach, Ri. Not now. The spasms are occurring more frequently, and after the last one, Ciesko told me there’s nothing more he can do. If my days are numbered, I must ensure that Dagome is strong enough to survive after my death.’
‘We’ll find her before that, Rey. She’ll have the antidote,’ my friend answered quietly. He picked up another document from the pile, and a portrait—a miniature of a woman with curly brown hair—fell onto my desk. He raised it to the light. ‘A new distraction?’’
‘No, just another cornerstone of the nobility offering me his daughter,’ I said, taking it, and the letter, from his hands and putting them in a drawer. ‘One of the burdens I bear,’ I grumbled, knowing I had no right to complain about the heavy weight of the crown.
Proposals had flooded in when the other nobles learned that Duke Tivala had taken the initiative. Now, every one of them hoped their daughter would be the next queen of Dagome. It felt like an auction, and I was the stallion they wanted to breed their future winners from.
‘Rey, you’ll have to take a wife eventually. Does it matter which you pick if it’s just to be a transaction?’ Riordan asked, and my jaw instinctively clenched.
‘The problem is that I don’t want it to be a “transaction.” I’m not so na?ve to believe she’ll love me, but I want the woman I take to my bed to at least like me.
And if she bears my child, I want someone strong enough to be a good regent.
Is that too much to ask?’ My words sounded harsh, even to my ears, and I felt a tinge of guilt when his eyebrows drew closer. Still, I’d had enough of this subject.
I grabbed the scout reports, hoping to distract him. ‘We need to focus on this.’ I gave him several files, ignoring his raised eyebrows.
‘You want me to read them right now?’
‘No. I want you to take them and read them in your own office. It’s the middle of the night, so maybe you should go home before the servants start thinking you’re my lover?’
The bastard’s laughter annoyed me almost as much as his eye roll.
‘Forgive me, Your Majesty, for working tirelessly to find the woman of your dreams. And no offence, but I prefer my partners to be soft and feminine.’ He quirked an eyebrow.
‘Though I’m sure I could find you a dark fae if you want to follow your brother’s example and divide your affection. ’
‘I see you’ve grown brazen. You must be ready to accept the position of royal mage, then. The paperwork is still in my drawer—all you have to do is sign it. In fact, I’m sure it’ll make your grandfather quite happy,’ I said with a lazy smile, knowing he dreaded taking on his official duties.
‘I’m not ready . . .’
‘Yes, you are. Besides, aren’t you already behaving like it’s official?
Walking into my private quarters like they were your stables, advising me to take a male lover .
. .’ I quipped, feigning displeasure, but we both knew I welcomed his visits and boldness that made being the king feel less . . . lonely.