Your betrothed,
Kylian
My Queen,
This bed offers little comfort without you here to warm it. I’m haunted with yearning. Sleep continues to evade me. I’ve abandoned any hope of apprehending it until you return. I toss and turn, cruel dreams plaguing me, reminding me of your scent, your taste…
This bed is yours now. As is every part belonging to me.
Kylian
My wife,
Why do you not return my letters?
What can I do to atone for that which I know not what I am atoning for?
Will it be jewels? I will shower you with them until the sight makes you ill.
Silks? Gowns? You shall have entire wings dedicated to your wardrobe.
Will it be servitude? Every male, female, and child in the kingdom shall kiss the ground beneath you.
Is it adoration? I vow to worship your body, day and night, on my knees at your altar, until you are sick of my hands, my fingers, my mouth, my?—
Unable to read another nauseating word, I gobble up the letters in my fist, crumpling them into a tight ball before tossing them into the fire.
“Send for Lord Gronwen and Sir Max,” I bark, seething at the surging flames.
“My King.”Gronwen enters the study, Max at his side. “You sent for us?”
I nod, gesturing for them to sit as I lean against the desk.
“There’s something I’ve been considering. I didn’t want to involve the entire council.”
“Of course,” Max nods, his face solemn.
Shifting my eyes between them, I say, “I want to launch an attack. Before the two weeks are up, before Vod can strike first. I want to obliterate them.”
They remain quiet, weighing my proposition. Gronwen crosses one spindly leg over the other, his chalky fingers curling over the carved wooden armrests. “Should we not wait for Berringer’s armies to arrive?”
“We don’t have time to wait. By the time they arrive, Vod’s forces will be here, and it will be too late.”
“I understand your desire to act, Sire, but doing so could backfire.”
“Captain?” I turn to Max.
My friend. One of myonlyfriends at this point.
“Vod has already reached our shores. Their forces are marching as we speak,” he answers regretfully.
“Exactly. And here we are, waiting with our thumbs up our asses. We cannot just do nothing,” I fume, looking back to Gronwen. “You expect me to wait until he shows up here with his fleets and armies and Serena hands herself over? No. I will end this before it comes to that. I refuse to put her at risk.”
Gronwen peers at me from beneath dark brows, a grave warning in his eyes. “Sire, forgive my saying so, but it is the Dragon Rider’s choice.”
“Because for some gods-damned reason, she feels it’s her responsibility to fix this! She is hell-bent on sacrificing herself, and I willnotallow it.”
Gronwen clears his throat, exchanging a glance with Max. He continues in a measured voice, “While I agree that things should not be left to chance, I feel that we must proceed with caution.”
