Page 33 of The Dragon King's Pregnant Mate

Blood freezes black on snow in the gathering dark.

I settle us upon the snow. We cannot afford the risk of a fire, not yet, and so I clean Calliope's wounds with hands that want to tremble, though I force them steady despite the bitter cold. I know I shall not freeze—dragons such as myself cannot, our fire too intense. I’ll have to keep her warm tonight, somehow. The gash on her arm from the spirit's touch has turned an ugly purple, the flesh around it crystallized as if touched by deep frost.

She winces when I probe the edges, but doesn't pull away. Doesn't look at me, either.

The ancient pines loom above us like sentinels, their branches heavy with ice. No birds call, no creatures stir in the underbrush. Even the wind seems muffled, as if the forest itself holds its breath.

We've been running for hours, putting miles between us and Ulric's stronghold, though every shadow still feels like a threat.

"This needs proper healing," I say, the words coming out rougher than intended. Smoke curls from between my teeth—I can't quite keep my dragon nature contained, not with her sitting so close, not with the memory of her in my brother's fortress still burning in my mind. "I don't have the right supplies—"

"It's fine." My wife’s voice is flat, exhausted. "I've had worse."

The implication—that she's suffered worse injuries during her months of running and then captivity—makes my blood boil. I want to demand answers, to shake the truth from her about what happened in that cursed place, in her months alone. But I remember how she looked at me when I accused her of betrayal, and something in my chest twists painfully.

I finish binding her arm in silence, using strips torn from my cloak. It’s painful even now to see her so frail. She shouldn’t look so weak. When my fingers brush her skin, I feel her shiver. From cold or fear or something else, I can't tell.

Nonetheless, I cannot bear how cold she is, how blue her lips are turning. I start a fire in silence as she watches me with dull, strange eyes. Neither of us speaks.

When I sit back down at her side, the fire I've built casts strange shadows through the trees. She's still weak from whatever Ulric did to her, and the temperature drops with every passing hour. She needs it, I tell myself. Anything she needs, despite it all, I shall do. Through our bond, fresh as an open wound, I feel echoes of her exhaustion, her pain.

"Why didn't you find a way to send word?" The question burns in my throat like acid, like bile. I have no choice but to spit it out. "If he was truly keeping you prisoner, surely there was some way to—"

"To what?" Calliope looks at me finally, and the bitterness in her voice cuts deep. "To beg the mighty Dragon King for rescue? To throw myself on the mercy of the man who kept me in chains? Ileft you,Arvoren. Surely you have not forgotten that.”

"Those chains were to protect you—"

"I can’t argue with you about this now. Not now. And you know I can’t. They were to control me." Her dry, unkind laugh is sharp as breaking ice. "Just like everything else. The guards, the rules, the constant watching. You never trusted me to stay of my own will."

"Because you ran." The words emerge in a growl that's barely human. "I gave you everything—"

But Calliope is shaking her head back and forth steadfastly, firmly, as if the answer is clear, as if she can’t bear to listen. "A prettier cage than this one, maybe, but still a cage. Even now, you can't see it. Can't understand why I had to leave. I should have known nothing would have changed."

When I shuffle toward her, she moves away sharply. Blood burning, bones settling with a deep and heavy ache, I stand and begin to move, unable to stay at her level, desperate for something to do, staring off into the dark forest around us.

Steam rises where my boots touch snow as I pace. "What I understand is that my wife fled in the night like a thief. That she hid from me for months while my kingdom fell apart. That I found her in my brother's fortress—"

"After he saved me from freezing to death, from dying alone, frommurder! What choice did I have?" Calliope runs shaking hands through her tangled hair. "I would have died out there. The gods know I came close. The entire kingdom was hunting me. Your soldiers were everywhere. I couldn't—" She breaks off. "I did what I had to do to survive."

"What was I supposed to think?" Smoke rises thicker as my control slips. "I found you in his fortress, unchained, while my kingdom falls apart—"

"I was playing his game!" The words burst from her like she's been holding them back for hours. "I was trying to survive, to protect—" She breaks off, one hand pressing briefly to her stomach before falling away. "I did what I had to do. Just like I did with you."

The comparison stings more than it should. "So I'm no better than him? Is that what you're saying?"

"That's not—" Calliope makes a sound of frustration, running her hands through her tangled hair. "You're twisting my words, just like you always do. You hear what you expect to hear, what confirms your worst fears—"

"And what should I hear?" I rise, pacing the small clearing. Steam rises where my boots touch snow. "That you didn't choose to stay with him? That you didn't—"

"I didn't choose any of this!" My wife stands too, swaying slightly. Through our bond, I feel her exhaustion warring with her fury. I quash the urge to steady her, to guide her back down. "I didn't choose to be taken from my home, to be made your prisoner, to discover I had magic that made me valuable to men like you and your brother—"

"I am nothing like him." The words come out in a snarl that's more dragon than human. "Everything I did was to protect you."

"To protect me?" Her eyes flash. "Or to protect your claim on me? Your precious bloodline? That's all I ever was to you—a vessel for your heir, a tool to secure your throne. Maybe you loved me, Arvoren, and maybe you still do. But you did not love me nearly enough."

"You know that's not true." But even as I say it, I feel sick.

"Do I?" Despite her weakened state, there's still that fierce defiance that drew me to her from the start. She steps closer, close enough that I can smell the crisp sweetness of her skin beneath the lingering taint of Ulric's fortress. "You say you're nothing like him, but you both speak of protection while meaning possession. At least he never pretended it was respect. He knew I knew the rules of the game."