Page 10 of The Dragon King's Pregnant Mate

There's something wrong with the way he says it, an edge beneath the casual mockery that raises the hair on the back of my neck.

I force myself to sit up fully, ignoring the way the room spins. "Why did you save me?"

"Can't family help family?" When I don't respond, he sighs dramatically. "You wound me, Calliope. Here I am, offering sanctuary from both the winter and my brother's rather overzealous pursuit, and you suspect ulterior motives?"

"The last time I saw you, you were trying to kill your brother and take his throne. You would have killedme.We both know it."

"Ah, but I failed rather spectacularly at that, didn't I?" He spreads his hands in a gesture of mock helplessness. "And now here we both are—outcasts, fugitives, seeking shelter in this gods-forsaken wilderness. The irony isn't lost on me."

I study him carefully, noting the way his fingers tap restlessly against the chair's arm, the tension barely hidden beneath his casual pose. His clothes are fine but showing wear, and there are shadows beneath his eyes that the thick shadow doesn't quite hide.

"Where are we?" I ask finally.

"Far enough from Millrath that you can breathe easy,” Ulric tells me, and for once, I believe him. He wouldn’t have taken me back. We’re both safer far from the capital. “This tower has stood empty for centuries—a remnant of some long-forgotten border dispute at the mountains’ edge. Now it serves as a temporary refuge for those of us who've fallen from my brother's grace, it seems.”

The tea still steams on the table beside me. I'm desperately thirsty, but I don't trust anything he offers. Instead, I ask the question that's been burning in my mind: "How did you find me?"

Something shifts in his expression—a predatory interest that makes my skin crawl. "I've been tracking you since you fled my House’s city. You're not as difficult to follow as you might think. The winter follows you like a loyal hound, Windwaker. And then there was that charming couple who sheltered you, just after your escape. What were their names? Ah yes—Thomas and Marina."

My blood runs cold. "What did you do to them?"

"Nothing permanent." His smile doesn't reach his eyes. "They were quite helpful, once they understood the situation. Told me all about the frightened young woman who stayed with them, how dire her circumstances seemed. How she was with child."

I can't stop my hand from moving protectively to my stomach. Ulric's eyes follow the movement, that predatory interest sharpening. When I say nothing, he does not laugh, though I sense that he would like to.

"They're alive," he adds, though I didn't ask. "I'm not the monster my brother would have you believe."

He's lying. I can see it in the way his smile doesn't quite fit his face, in the calculated casualness of his posture. Thomas and Marina are dead, and their blood is on my hands as surely as if I'd killed them myself.

"Why?" I force the word past the tightness in my throat. "Why help me? What do you want?"

Ulric rises again, moving to one of the arrow slits. Snow swirls outside, though the storm seems calmer than it has in days. "Want? I want what I've always wanted—justice. Freedom from my brother's tyranny. A chance to restore Kaldoria to what it should be."

He turns back to me, and for a moment I glimpse something broken behind his careful mask. "But more immediately? I want to ensure that the child you carry survives to see its first breath."

My hackles rise. I wish I could kill him—I wish I could kill him with my bare hands. But I feel so desperately weak, like a baby bird. Feeble and broken. Fallen from the nest too soon into a brief and desperate journey toward the unforgiving ground.

"Why do you care about my child?” I demand, trying to sound unafraid.

"Because, my dear sister-in-law, that child represents the future. The first union of dragon and Windwaker blood in centuries. A power that could reshape our world." His voice takes on an almost fevered quality. "Or destroy it completely, I suppose. Either way, it's far too important to leave in my brother's hands."

Understanding dawns, cold and terrible as the winter outside. "You want to use my child as a weapon."

"I want to protect it." Ulric spreads his hands as if meaning to hold the entire world within them, to mould it for himself. "To ensure it's raised properly, away from my brother's influence. To give it a chance to become something more than just another link in our family's chain of violence and control."

"Like you're so different?" The words come out before I can stop them. "You, who murdered innocent people just to find me? Who tried to kill your own brother? I have not forgotten Lyra, Ulric. I have not forgotten what you did to me.” And, though I don’t say it:what you did to my husband.

For a moment, something dangerous flashes in Ulric’s eyes—a glimpse of the dragon beneath his carefully maintained humanity. Then it's gone, hidden behind that knife-edge smile.

"Rest," he says, moving toward the door. "Recover your strength. We can discuss the future once you're feeling more…reasonable." He pauses with his hand on the latch. "Oh, and Calliope? Don't bother trying to escape. The weather may be your ally, but this tower has stood against worse storms than yours. And in your condition…" He lets the threat hang unfinished in the air.

The door closes behind him with a sound like a tomb sealing shut.

I wait until his footsteps fade before allowing myself to shiver. The fire has burned lower, shadows creeping across the floor like grasping fingers. Outside, snow continues to fall, though I can't tell if it's my magic responding to my fear or simply the natural weather of this desolate place.

My hand rests on my stomach, feeling the warmth there—the only part of me that still feels truly alive.

"I'll protect you," I whisper to the child growing inside me. "Whatever it takes. Whatever I have to do. He’ll never have you. He’ll never have you, not as long as I live.”