Page 36 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Maximinus’ Study, Shadow Court

D aire

Possibly, I shouldn’t have boasted about being able to protect myself to Aurelius. The Shadow Devils love to have our own words bite us in the arse.

I pant, struggling to hold back the tears of pain that are welling in my eyes. I kneel on the hard marble in front of Maximinus’ large writing desk in his study.

My knees are sore and bruised from the hours that I have spent here, starting to become numb. The small stones of knotted mosaic dig into my skin through my thin breeches, creating jagged points of agony.

My wings throb and pulse from being forced into a single position for so long at Maximinus’ order.

The dying sun bathes the opulent room, which is all about showing off the dragons’ power and status: Gold and silver statues, ornate frescoes, and magical items with far more power than is safe to be lying around like trinkets on Maximinus’ desk.

It’s a shock being surrounded by this amount of color and light after the dark cold of the dungeon.

Maximinus continues to calmly write a letter, ignoring me.

He’s haloed in golden light through the window. He’s resplendent in his silver tunic and woolen cloak.

He looks nothing like the bloody sadistic sorcerer that he truly is.

A secret head of a deadly court faction.

A traitor.

Yet I can’t even tell Freya the truth. Not and live. Not without risking her life.

I grit my teeth, clenching my hands on my lap to control the pain.

When a conspiracy of ravens fly down anxious to reach me at last and rap on the window’s glass with their strong bills, I hurriedly shake my head at them.

Unhappy, they ruffle their shaggy throat feathers. They still raise their voices in musical, croaking song in greeting, before they fly away further into the court gardens.

I’ve missed them.

At least I had some fun playing with the Shadow Dragon King earlier. He bristles more than my cat does, playing cool and aloof, when his pheromones are begging for strokes.

Aurelius believes that he hides himself behind a mask but get him riled up and the idiot gives himself away. He’s not used to playing these games in the way that I am. It’s almost like he’s never fucked, loved, or experienced true friendship before.

He’s vulnerable.

I understand him. I wish that I could still think of him as the villain , which he believes himself to be.

He’s not.

The featherglass pass on coded messages to me, as I work in the kitchens. I have to snort, half amused and half annoyed, when they write about Aurelius with growing admiration.

On the sacred ash, at least I’m not the only one who is struggling to remember that he’s the enemy.

Pushing Aurelius’ buttons, however, is the best method to get information out of him.

He’s cold. Rigid. Uptight.

He has a huge stick up his arse.

He probably wouldn’t know how to remove that stick, even if he attended a fae revel beneath the stars and the falling blossoms, where fae celebrate our bodies, pleasure, and fluid sexualities, together through the long night.

Freya, on the other hand, would look like a wolf goddess underneath the moonlight, dancing with me with flowers woven in her fiery hair. We’d kiss, stripping naked together, before lying on a bed of ancient roots and fucking like wild, free creatures.

I grimace, as another wave of pain washes over me.

Except, Aurelius and his army burned the blossoms and my fae to ash. They burned down the grove, where we danced and sang and fucked.

There will be no revels, unless I fight to bring them back.

I clench my jaw.

I am all that remains of the royal fae. All that remains of the Winter Court.

I have to survive, whatever it takes.

I will serve both Alpha dragon and Omega wolf. I would do anything for my people.

Aurelius is already worshiping Freya’s pussy and acting as if it means that he has more claim to our Omega than I do.

Alphahole.

Why would I deny Freya pleasure? I already spent my rut with her connected through our bond, and it was the best bloody experience of my life.

For a moment, I manage to escape the agony in my knees, wings, and coursing through my blood, into the memory of Freya’s phantom kisses, bites, and scratches over the snowflake.

I shakily trace over my bond mark, feeling for her.

Happiness like sunshine.

I smile.

Why would I deny Freya’s connection to Aurelius, if it can make her feel like that? She’s still on my side of the board, however, because we have a deal.

And I can’t wait for the moment that we win.

Sweat drips into my eyes. I struggle to raise my hand to wipe it away.

I attempt to focus on Maximinus, but my vision blurs. Dread churns in my guts.

What if he keeps my vision like this?

“Boss,” I whisper.

I won’t beg.

He still doesn’t look up.

I blink, but my vision is still blurry.

How can I fight like this? My stomach is tight with fear and distress.

“Boss,” I try again. “I’m sorry.”

Maximinus continues to ignore me.

I groan, clenching my hands into fists. My wings tremble.

Did Aurelius notice that my vision is lowered?

That I am slowly becoming blind because of Maximinus’ iron poisoning? The same poison that he used to create the pandemic, which led to the genocide of the Winter Court?

I bet that Aurelius is too self-important and entitled to have even noticed such details about his new pet.

A fae’s natural senses are better than a dragon’s. I can still manage by my sense of smell, for example, the delicious scents from the meal he brought me.

He signaled his own movements with so much noise that I could have been blind and still known where he was. Fae can move silently, but luckily for me, dragons are large and stomp around as if to make sure even the earth on every step knows that they own it.

Blind.

I turn my head, trying to shake away the thought.

How soon will it happen?

Against my will, a tear breaks from my eyelashes and chases down my cheek.

By the Shadow Devils, Aurelius calls me worthless with his words, while treating me as precious with his actions.

His uncle, however, is the opposite of him.

In many bloody ways.

“Sweet pet.” Maximinus still doesn’t look up from his paper.

His quill scratch , scratch , scratches across the parchment.

I slump with relief that he has finally acknowledged me, rather than ignoring me as he has from the moment that the guards dragged me here from the dungeons, before forcing me into this punishment position.

“Why do you persist in hurting yourself like this?”

I bare my sharp, gleaming canines. “Right now, it feels a lot like it’s you who is hurting me .”

Maximinus raises his eyebrow. “You mean the iron that I poisoned you with? You mean like this ?”

He flicks his wrist, and the poison iron in my veins flares higher. It creeps like shadow tendrils up my throat and down the backs of my hands.

I scream.

The iron surges through my bloodstream. I can feel it twisting, sick and wrong, through my body.

A violating invader.

My wings finally drop out of their position, as I writhe on the floor, dropping my fevered forehead to the blissfully cool marble.

“Fuck, fuck… ” I slam my head against the floor, as if that’ll help drive out the pain; blood drips down my temple and into my eyes.

My vision blurs further.

The world is turned to shadows.

It’s terrifying.

My breathing becomes ragged, and my lungs burn.

Finally, the pain eases back to a background hum again.

Scratch, scratch, scratch,

Maximinus is writing again.

How long have I been lying on the floor like this?

I’m shaking but I don’t try to push myself up.

My joints ache, and my muscles burn. My throat feels like it’s been shredded by my screams. I stare blankly at the far wall.

At first, it’s nothing but a smudge. Slowly, I can make out that there are shelves, then that are scrolls on it. Yet those scrolls bleed into each other.

I relax.

My senses have returned to how they were before, possibly slightly worse.

Every time that the dragon punishes me like this, I am weakened.

“A butter knife?” Maximinus tuts. “I’ve been training you better in assassinations than that.

So, what was it? Were you bored buttering the broccoli in the kitchens?

Wanted to spar? If you need more missions, pet, ask me.

You don’t choose your own marks and act without orders.

This is why I need to teach you these hard lessons, pet.

You’re a criminal. An uncivilized barbarian with no morals. ”

“Flatterer.” Breathing hard, I push myself back to my knees.

Maximinus drags out a tiny, engraved silver bottle, whose stopper matches Maximinus’ royal badge. He shakes it, and I can’t look away from it.

The antidote.

My pulse speeds up.

By the Shadow Gods, I must have it.

“What do I need to do?” I demand.

Maximinus’ lips quirk. “Suddenly so obedient.” He places the bottle between us on the desk, pointedly.

“This won’t cure you. We both know that you watched what this can do.

Did you weep, as you are now, when your mother and father died?

Your court burned? Poor, pretty pet. The effects are only going to get worse.

If you follow my orders in secret, however, then I will allow you this antidote, which will give you some relief from the pain. And time.”

Time to destroy you.

Time to take my revenge.

Time not to weep but to stand up for every one in my kingdom who was wiped out by his poisonous magic.

I wipe the tears off my cheeks, staring defiantly back at him. “May the Shadow Devils damn you to hell.”

Maximinus shrugs. “Most likely. First, let us discuss your next mission. At the weekend, I am hosting a special feast on the deathday of Tarquin as a memorial. I will be celebrating his glorious achievements, including for winning the First Fae War. Don’t you think it fitting that the ex-Shadow Fae King attend? ”

Furious, I draw back.

My eyes flash. My wings flap in agitation.