Page 63 of The Dragon King's Pregnant Mate

"I think you've always feared him." I meet his gaze steadily, though my heart hammers against my ribs. "Why else spend so long trying to prove yourself? Why else this desperate need to take what's his? You're still that little boy, aren't you? Still trying to step out of your brother's shadow?"

"Shut up." The blade presses against my throat, drawing blood that freezes instantly in the bitter air. "You know nothing about me. About us. About what it means to be the second son—"

But I see the truth in his eyes now. Behind all the madness, all the cruelty, all the carefully crafted schemes…he's terrified. Of Arvoren, yes, but also of himself. Of what he's become. Of the monster he chose to be when being second-best grew too painful to bear.

He’s just a man, I realise. An angry, scared, viciously cruel man like any other.

And today, he’s going to die.

A roar splits the sky in the far distance—a sound of such primal fury that the very mountains seem to tremble.

Ulric's head snaps up, eyes widening as massive wings blot out the sun. His grip on the blade tightens, but I see the way his hands shake, the way sweat beads on his forehead despite the killing cold.

"Brother," he whispers, and for the first time since he took me, real fear enters his voice. "You're too late. Far too late—"

The blade moves.

But I am not the same woman he once tried to break. I dodge, roll hard to my left, andfight.

Chapter 30 - Arvoren

Blood freezes black on snow in the gathering dark.

My roar splits the dawn like thunder, echoing off ancient walls, shaking ice from battlements. The sound carries all my fury, all my fear, all my desperate need to find her before it's too late. Already dragons burst from towers and guard posts, my elite warriors taking wing like living shadows, their scales catching the first rays of sunlight as they spiral upward. The response is immediate, instinctive—they know that sound. Know their king hunts.

"Arvoren!" Darian races across the courtyard toward me, steam rising from his armor as his own dragon nature responds to my partially transformed state. Behind him, more warriors pour from the barracks, weapons half-drawn. "The trackers found signs of struggle in the lower gardens. And this—"

He thrusts something toward me that makes my blood run cold—a scrap of blue silk, embroidered with silver patterns. The fabric Calliope wore this morning still carries her scent, crisp sweetness mingled now with copper-sharp fear. Through our bond, I feel her terror like physical pain.

"How?" The word emerges in a snarl that's barely human. Smoke pours from my mouth as scales ripple faster beneath my skin. "How did he get past the wards?"

"We don’t know." But Darian's voice carries the weight of bitter understanding. Deep down, we both know what it must be.

My brother's betrayal doesn't change the fact that he was born here, that our parents' magic runs in his veins just as it runs in mine. Once again, my own heritage, my own blood, has been turned against me.

Around us, more warriors gather, their own transformations beginning in response to my fury.

"Search patterns!" Darian barks to the assembled warriors, not waiting for my command. He knows we have only minutes. "Northern quadrant first—across the lake—"

"He'll want somewhere defensible," I cut in, already moving. Every second feels like an eternity. Like failure. "Somewhere he can…" I break off as another wave of fear hits through our bond. "Somewhere symbolic. Begin with—"

"The peaks." Darian nods sharply. "Of course."

More dragons launch themselves from the castle walls, their wingbeats stirring snow into whirlwinds. The courtyard becomes a chaos of orders shouted, weapons distributed, warriors transforming in sprays of steam and shadow. My elite guards know what Ulric is capable of. Know what he'll do to Calliope if we don't find her in time.

But first, there's something I must do.

"Coordinate the search," I tell Darian, already turning toward the highest tower. "Start with the northern ridges, the old hunting paths. He knows them as well as I do. But when you find him…" Smoke curls thicker as my control slips. "Wait for me. He's mine to kill."

I don't wait for his response. The tower stairs blur beneath my feet as I take them three at a time, my partially transformed state letting me move faster than any human could manage. Guards flatten themselves against walls as I pass, sensing their king's fury. Steam trails in my wake where my too-hot skin meets frozen stone.

The Sanctum doors burst open at my approach.

Inside, time seems to slow.

Sunlight streams through walls of enchanted glass, casting rainbow patterns across floors still scarred from that final battle. Here, where ancient magic runs deepest, I first tried to bind Calliope to me through ceremony and force. Here, where my ancestors communed with powers older than kingdoms, I learned that some things cannot be contained, only cherished.

My parents were married here. Died here, defending their throne from assassins when Ulric and I were barely more than boys. Their spirits still linger in this place—I feel them in the way the air thickens, in how the light seems to catch on nothing, casting shadows that move when you're not looking directly at them.