Page 8 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

CHAPTER FOUR

Aurelius’ Tent, Draca Military Camp

F reya

Slowly, I rise to consciousness.

Fractured, fevered dreams pull at me.

Haunt me.

A beautiful monster with piercing red-wine eyes and black hair fluttering to his waist like shadows searching for me in a sea of rats and a mist of moonlight moths…

I toss my throbbing head to the side, shivering. My body aches. My throat is dry.

I’m surrounded by the scent of smoke and leather. Why is it familiar? Reassuring?

Why am I lying on something soft? This isn’t my dorm room.

Disorientated, I force myself to open my eyes slowly.

It’s dark.

I’m lying on a camp bed stuffed with wool, which has been transformed into a nest with walls of leather from someone’s battle armor, which is where the scent of smoke and leather is coming from.

Ornate golden cushions have been propped around me, which are embroidered with glittering dragons, along with velvet bedding.

I’ve never lain in a proper nest before.

I’ve definitely never had anyone build me one.

Why would someone do this for me?

Where am I?

The tent is large, rectangular, and linen. It’s gabled, held up by stout poles. The Shadow Dragon’s banner of the fierce Golden Dragon hangs from the walls, shimmering with protective magic, which makes my skin tingle.

Beeswax candles flicker on a large table, casting light and shadows across the rest of the tent.

The space is simple and uncluttered with just a single bed, the table that is covered with what looks to be a wooden layout of a battle plan, low stools around it, and a carved chest in the corner.

The chest stands out because it is heavily ornamented with flames of gold on each of its sides like it’s being perpetually burned but never turns to ash.

I struggle to keep my breathing even to not alert anyone that I’m awake now .

How long have I been unconscious?

A flood of memories hits me: The Mate Hunt, running, discovering that Bard truly was my Alpha before he broke our bond, then the Golden Dragon swooping down and snatching me into the air and flying me away into his army camp.

Is that where I am now?

I crush my nails into my palms.

King Aurelius must think that I’m his ally like King Ulf is. He doesn’t know that to me, he’s my enemy. Especially, if he’s about to attack King Daire.

That gives me the advantage.

Who says that Alphas will always win in games of war?

Yet Aurelius built me a nest. I’m surrounded by his scent. Why is this so confusing?

All of a sudden, I hear someone shifting behind me. Startled, I turn on the bed.

At the back of the tent stands a small, beautiful silver shrine. It’s shaped like a silver dragon with their wings out. A crown with twin dragons rests in front of it, as well as a single candle.

The shrine isn’t as beautiful, however, as the person who kneels in front of it with his head bowed.

His golden curving horns are glorious.

He is dressed in golden armor like dragon scales. His shoulder pads are decorative. Over his chest, the plated armor is engraved with dragons.

A metal band is clasped around his waist over leather strips. The strips hang down and are studded with gold. Leather is molded to his legs and stomach, defining his powerful muscles.

He wears gleaming dragon scale armlets on his wrists and tight on his biceps. A dagger is sheathed at his waist that draws my attention, as if it’s darkly whispering to me.

My skin goosebumps.

I shake my head, trying to clear it.

Power…temptation…shadowed death.

I stare at the dagger in shock. It’s cursed. I’m sure of it.

My fingers itch like they do when I want to steal something. Every good thief gets the tingly feeling in the presence of the right object.

It’s all about survival.

I press my fingers over the shameful scar on my wrist. Haven’t I been taught a thorough lesson in that?

Don’t dream for pack or bonding. Take what you want instead. Rely on only yourself.

No one else will truly protect you. Trusting that they will, can only lead to having your heart ripped out.

The dagger’s scabbard is covered in glittering scales. The hilt is heavy, antique gold; it is molded into a snarling dragon’s head, trailing shadows like the sun’s rays behind it.

The man also has a crown resting on his head.

A golden crown, which is a single dragon with its wings outstretched.

This is King Aurelius transformed out of shifter form.

Fuck a troll.

My eyes widen. My heart speeds up .

I silently drag a cushion over myself, before I glance down at what I’m wearing.

My eyes widen further.

I’ve been dressed in a warm leather dress with long sleeves and a high neck, although no shoes.

Huh, not a good sign.

Is the king scared that I’ll run away?

Am I a captive?

I glance down at the bottom of the nest and am relieved that my old dress has at least been added to it, cleaned and mended.

So, Aurelius is at least a thoughtful kidnapper. With my dress, it’ll be easier to escape.

A kidnapper is still an asshole, however, king or no king.

I study Aurelius again.

He’s hidden in shadows but somehow, appears to make his own light.

Aurelius’ hand rests on the silver crown, clutching it hard enough to slice open his palm. His blood drips onto the shrine.

“Brother,” he whispers, “by the end of tonight, I will have fulfilled part of my Blood Oath.”

I narrow my eyes.

Blood Oaths. They’re never good.

Yet when Aurelius raises his head, glancing to the side, deep in thought, I’m distracted from even his oath.

My throat dries further.

I thought Bard a man. But he was nothing.

A child next to this dragon.

The dominance of the King’s pheromones are overwhelming.

Aurelius’ golden waves of hair tumble under his crown around his sharp cheekbones to his strong jaw. He glows like the sun.

Yet he’s as cold as a dying sun.

A crimson cape is draped around his broad, tanned shoulders.

“You’re awake,” Aurelius says without looking around.

His voice is smoky but emotionless.

I startle, falling back into my nest. “How did you do that?”

Aurelius stands fluidly, and I realize how tall he is; he must be at least 6 foot nine, maybe taller. “Your scent, heartbeat, and the change to the pattern in your breathing. Dragons have enhanced senses, and I have been in training for many years. So, I wouldn’t suggest trying to trick me.”

I try to look as innocent as possible. “Got it.”

Aurelius towers over the nest, and I swallow, pulling another cushion over myself like a shield.

He raises his eyebrow. “You may not know this, since you’ve been in a fever for a week, recovering from your broken bond and also your other injuries, but I am the King .”

“Ehm,” I wet my dry lips, “congratulations…?”

Aurelius’ eyes become icy. “Your Majesty. That’s what you call me.”

I force myself to smile. “Introductions, of course. I’m Freya , Your Majesty . Omegas call me Spark. Since you’re an Alpha, however, and want to be formal, I guess that you’d better stick to Freya.”

Aurelius’ deep growl pulls at my stomach in a way that I’m not expecting with both fear and anticipation.

Hurriedly, he holds his hands behind his back with what looks like an extreme effort of self-control. “You may call me Aurelius.”

Victory, the Omega.

I incline my head like I’m an elite Omega. After all, this king doesn’t need to know the truth of my status, right?

Or does he?

How much does he know about who I am?

“Then you may call me Spark,” I reply, regally.

Aurelius’ expression is mask-like, as he sits on the edge of the nest. “May I check your wounds?”

Surprised, I stare at him. “But you’re the King.”

“I believe that was just my line to you.” Aurelius taps his fingers impatiently on his dagger. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing. The healer showed me, and I have personally been attending to you for the last week. On the Shadow Gods, I swear that I am trying to save you.”

I nod.

My breathing speeds up, as he pushes my dress aside to check my left ankle.

My ankle is bandaged, and when Aurelius gently unbandages the wound, he makes an approving sound. I watch his head trustingly bent over my ankle in amazement.

Has he been looking after me like this all week ?

Aurelius sounds so cold but here he is, a king, caring for a servant. Doesn’t he realize?

Shadows dance across his sharp cheekbones. “It’s healing well. No infection. I wish that I could pull out the fangs of the fucker who did this to you.”

“They’re dead.”

“Good.”

He winds the bandage neatly. “You no longer need this. You’re strong.”

When Aurelius makes to reach for my wrist and my crescent moon scar, I make a low, wounded sound in my throat.

I drag my arm to my chest, trying to hide it.

A broken bond is the greatest shame that there is in the Moon Court.

A rejected Omega is an outcast. No pack will take them in. Normally, they die alone in the woods.

I won’t die but I am forced to wear this scar that reminds me of my childish fantasy that a prince would choose an orphan to become his princess.

Aurelius scrutinizes me for a moment, before slipping off one of his golden scale bracelets.

He casually tosses it to me. “You can put it on if you want.”

I gape at him, weighing it in my hand. The bracelet is worth more than anything I’ve stolen. I could melt this down when I escape. It would fund my living for a year, fuck it, a decade if I’m careful.

He’s just funded my new life.

I blush .

This is the first gift that anyone has given me, and my inner Omega can’t help loving it.

I also love this small kindness. When Aurelius saw how uncomfortable I was about the broken bond scar, he simply offered the solution with his own precious belonging. Casually, as if it wasn’t a big deal.

It is to me.

I smile, slipping on the bracelet. “This is worth more than I am.”

Aurelius’ piercing amber eyes appear to be able to look into my soul. “Says who? Anyone you want me to burn for making you think that?”

I choke on my tongue. “Not right now.”