Page 61 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

Yet I had no idea that my uncle would give Caligo a cursed iron whip. I had no idea that Daire could have died.

Guilt swirls low in my gut.

Daire shrugs me off. “I’m not eating all of them, idiot. One for each of us.”

My cheeks redden.

I didn’t expect that.

“With what coin?” I say to cover my embarrassment.

Daire regally holds out his hand to me, as he has all evening.

“Of course,” I mutter, taking out my purse and then passing the money directly to the stall holder.

“He has you well trained,” the slim, middle aged Beta behind the stall says, pocketing the money.

Freya smothers her laugh behind her palm .

“You should see the tricks he can do.” Daire leans in to the woman, conspiratorially. “One time, he?—

My eyes flash. “One more word, Kit, and I’ll…”

“Here, taste it.” Daire shoves the tart into my mouth.

I choke for a moment, before I bite into the sweetest tart that I’ve ever tasted.

The homemade crust is buttery and flaky in the best way. When I crunch into the pomegranate seeds, they burst with a bright, tangy flavor.

I moan, and the stallholder grins. I swallow, licking my lips.

“Very good.” I nod at the Beta woman.

“Thank you,” she replies, before she winks at Daire, who is finishing up his own sweet tart with relish. “But I’d still like to hear about those tricks.”

When I growl a warning at Daire, he laughs and spins away from the stall into the crowd like ash on the breeze.

Freya nuzzles into my side, taking small bites of her own tart.

“Anything else you want?” I ask, awkwardly, wishing that I was like War and could easily spoil my Omega. “Just say, and I’ll buy it.”

Freya pats her own pocket. “I’ve been saving. I have my own purse, and this is my first chance to spend my salary. I’m looking forward to buying myself something.”

I grit my teeth. Did I offer the gift wrong?

Daire is dancing between the stalls, examining the hair clips, brooches, and toys with fascination. There is something unusual about the way that he brushes his fingers across the wares, feeling out the pieces by touch rather than sight. But then, fae are tactile.

Occasionally, he holds one up like a war trophy to Freya, but she only shakes her head.

At last, he traces over a wooden dragon, which has been painted gold, before holding it aloft.

Freya’s face lights up. “It’s you, Aurelius.”

She wriggles free of me to rush to the stall. Her hands brush across Daire’s, as they hold the small wooden dragon between them.

I scrunch up my nose. “Don’t you want something fancier? I’ll buy you one made of real gold. I want to court you properly.”

Freya shakes her head, and her fiery curls bounce. “This is perfect. I can keep it with the wooden shrine that you made me.”

“But I?—”

“The Omega wants to buy it herself.” Daire’s eyes are piercing in the dark. His wings rise in warning. “Let her.”

I nod, watching in admiration as Freya fiercely haggles the stallholder down to half the price. It hits me how proud she is, when she takes out the silk purse that I gave her and pays for the wooden dragon herself.

She hugs it to her chest.

“A miniature me,” I drawl. “I am not enough for you?”

“You’re not always with me.” Freya strokes over the wooden dragon. She slips it into her pocket. “Now, you’ll be with me all the time when I miss you.”

My breath stutters.

When our gazes meet, my skin prickles. The golden threads that attach us together are bright and glittering in the dark.

Yet they’re frayed, as if a thousand snakes are threatening to break free on each side.

It’s agonizing and terrifying because if the threads snap, then I lose everything.

I lose Freya, my Omega, Goddess, entire world .

Except, the only thing to stop that happening is to bond. How close is Freya to her heat? I can’t miss the next one, no matter the consequences with Maximinus.

I won’t.

I need to hope that all my scheming within the Shadow Court with the backing of my Golden Family is enough to save us.

“Look at this!” Daire enthusiastically brushes his elegant fingers over a feather brooch, which is made out of amethyst. It glows like his eyes. He smiles at Freya. “Do you like it, love?”

I harrumph .

Daire would want our Omega to wear something to mark her out as his as well, when he already has that glossy feather of his woven into her hair.

To my shock, the stocky stallholder bats Daire’s hand away from his jewelry display hard enough to make Daire flinch.

“Get your filthy, thieving fae fingers off my wares,” the Alpha stallholder sneers.

He is in his sixties with graying hair but a military bearing that tells me he once served in the army.

“You fuckers should all have been turned to ash in a big fucking bonfire like we did it in the good old days when we knew how to treat fae. I don’t know why you’re allowed out of a cage without a leash. Go on, fuck off.”

Daire’s smile fades. He looks like he may hurl.

He opens his mouth but before he can say anything, I find myself storming forward overcome with a burning rage.

I grab the edges of the stall and violently upend it.

The stallholder yells in outrage, as his jewelry is scattered across the alleyway.

“What the fuck…? I’ll…” The stallholder surges forward, before the light of a nearby lantern is cast across me.

Then the blood drains from his face, when he realizes that he’s just threatened his King.

War and Lucius move closer, dropping their gifts onto the ground. War pulls out her sword, ready to support me in a fight.

“ You’ll…? ” I raise my eyebrow, backing the stallholder up, until his shoulders hit the tenement behind him. “You’ll apologize for insulting my honored fae dragon rider?”

Daire watches with wide eyes.

“Y-y-yes, Your Majesty,” the stallholder stutters.

“Go on then,” I demand, icily.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

The stallholder blinks like he has no idea what I mean. Was I ever like him?

My guts churn uncomfortably .

Weren’t the fae the problem? They led raids. Stirred up unrest. Just like the vampires do now.

How can there be peace, until both kingdoms are conquered?

Is it the Dracanian’s fault that the vampires won’t simply swear fealty and accept our protection as the wolf shifters have done?

You fuckers should all have been turned to ash in a big fucking bonfire like we did it in the good old days, when we knew how to treat fae.

Hadrian’s Dagger vibrates at my side.

Did Tarquin treat the fae differently than I do? Like the stallholder did?

Losing my patience, I grab the stallholder by the neck. “Apologize for insulting my dragon rider. Look at him and apologize. Then beg for his forgiveness, or you will be the one who is burned to ash.”

The stallholder may be an Alpha but he’s about to piss himself.

Daire crosses his arms, staring evenly at the trembling dragon.

The stallholder desperately seeks out his gaze. “I’m s-s-sorry. Please, f-f-f-orgive me.”

“Sir,” Daire says, flatly.

“W-what?”

“You called your other customers sir . Call me it.”

The stallholder pulls a face, as if he’s been asked to slice off his own knot.

Finally, he forces out, “I’m sorry, sir .”

Daire shrugs. “Fair enough. ”

I’m warmed by the way that both Daire and Freya are looking at me like I hang the moon.

Perhaps, threatening people is better than giving gifts. At least I know that I’m good at it.

I let go of the man with a shove. Then I bend down to pick up the amethyst feather from the floor, wiping the mud off it on my cloak.

I fish out a gold coin from my pocket, which is worth at least twice the value of the brooch, and toss it at the stallholder’s feet. He’s too frightened to pick it up.

I turn and swagger to Daire, handing the brooch to him. “For our Omega.”

“Thank you.” I know that he means for more than the brooch.

Gently, he brushes Freya’s hair aside and fixes the amethyst feather to the front of her robe. “So pretty, love.”

Freya strokes over it. “This is my favorite color. I used to dream about your eyes. My lavender eyed fae.”

She leans forward and kisses Daire, deep and tender.

When they break apart, they’re both breathing hard.

Then Daire grins. “Well, I am your god.”

Freya blushes, biting her lip. “Do you think Iggy is enjoying the carnival?”

“Only if Iggy isn’t here on a date with Aquila like Aurelius is with us.” Daire pulls a face. “Aquila needs to remove the tail out of his own arse. I’ll help him with that if I see him.”

Daire flaps his wings, diving back into the crowd.

It strikes me that I haven’t seen Daire full of life like this since the ambush in Rune Forest and I’ve wanted to .

I never fully realized how much I wrecked him that night or how much it destroyed a fae to clip their wings and steal their freedom.

This is the first time that I feel like I’m seeing a glimpse beneath Daire’s mask to how he might have acted with his featherglass.

How could they have lived in such a whirlwind of emotion and joy?

Why does it ache so much that I have boxed him in with rules and the bars of my court’s cage?

“By the Shadow Devils, will you look at this,” Daire shouts across the crowds.

“He’s more like a fae puppy than a kitten.” My lips twitch, as I hold Freya’s hand and pull her into the laughter and chatter of the thronging festivalgoers toward Daire.

“A deadly one with fangs,” Freya agrees.

Daire is standing in front of a stall of ornately carved and vibrantly painted wooden masks. He’s holding two of them up with a look of devilish delight.

“The seller says that these are traditional carnival half-masks. That side of the stall are the shadow villains, and this side are your heroes, all dragons of course, who dwell in the light. They’re bloody brilliant.

” Daire holds up two masks. “I’ve found a mask of you amongst the heroes.

And look, this handsome one from the opposing villain side… ? Guess who this one is meant to be?”

Freya gasps. “It’s you.”

“They got the silver curls right. I’m not sure about the nose. ”