"Who took what is ours?" he demanded again when she said nothing, and in his growl, I could hear the dragon.
The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken threats and stubborn defiance. Arthur's jaw worked as he stared down at her, his blue eyes blazing with a fury that seemed to consume the air around them. When she still refused to respond, something snapped inside him.
His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around her throat. The sudden violence of the gesture made me tense instinctively, my own hands clenching into fists at my sides as I watched him grip her with possessive brutality.
"Who defiled you?" he growled, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that had sent men fleeing for their lives.
Still, she refused to answer—something that shocked me because I wasn't certain why she was protecting me, if in fact that was what she was doing.
"As your fucking king, I order you to answerthe fucking question."
"I will not."
Arthur was quiet for a moment, but I could see the rage simmering just beneath the surface of his carefully controlled exterior. His chest rose and fell with measured breaths that spoke of a man fighting to maintain his composure, each exhale revealing more smoke than the last.
The muscles in his jaw ticked, a telltale sign that his legendary temper was reaching its breaking point. I'd seen that particular warning countless times before—usually right before heads rolled or kingdoms burned.
"Did you bewitch—seduce—one of my knights into your bed?"
Her glare was just as fierce as his. "I did not."
Then his expression softened fractionally as something else entirely occurred to him, the harsh planes of his face shifting into something that resembled concern.
"Did someone… force himself on you?" The question came out quieter than his previous demands, though no less intense. His grip on her throat loosened slightly, his thumb unconsciously stroking along the delicate column of her neck in what might have been meant as comfort. But his eyes—thosepiercing blue depths—narrowed as the implications of his own question took root in his mind.
I could practically see the wheels turning behind his gaze, could almost hear the dark calculations already forming as he considered this possibility. The air around him began to shimmer with heat, and I caught the faint scent of sulfur that always preceded his most violent rages. If she answered in the affirmative, if someone had dared to hurt her, then whatever punishment he was already imagining would pale in comparison to the creative tortures his twisted mind would devise for such a transgression.
"No."
"Then you freely gave your body?"
She breathed in deeply. "I did."
Another growl emanated from deep within him—the dragon's fury.
"You will tell me his name now."
She swallowed hard. "I will not."
I didn't know what to make of her stubborn refusal to reveal my identity, to speak the name that would damn us both but might spare her from whatever brutal punishment Arthur's twisted mind was already conjuring.
But, for whatever reason, she protected me.
I found myself holding my breath as I watched her face—that stunning beauty now set in lines of quiet determination that spoke of an inner steel I was only beginning to recognize.
Why wouldn't she simply tell him the truth? The words sat right there on her tongue, requiring only the slightest push past her lips to end this dangerous game. She had to realize Arthur was balanced on a knife's edge, his self-control fraying with each passing second of her defiance. I could see the way his fingers flexed around her throat—not enough to truly hurt her, butfirm enough to remind them both of his absolute power in this moment.
Why was she protecting me when doing so might cost her everything? When her silence could mean the difference between a quick death and something far worse? The question gnawed at me. I'd expected many things from this mysterious woman who'd appeared in our midst like some fever dream made flesh, but this fierce loyalty—misguided though it might have been—had never entered my calculations.
What if he hurt her? What would I… I would interfere. I would tell him the truth, and I would suffer the consequences. If nothing else, I would be the honorable man I had thought myself to be—before she'd entered my life and everything I thought I knew about myself had crumbled.
Arthur pulled away from her with deliberate slowness, his hand releasing its grip on her as if she had suddenly become something distasteful to touch. I watched as he rose to his full, imposing height—every inch the king asserting his dominance over a subject who had dared to defy him.
He towered above her prone form, covering her delicate features in shadow. The transformation was stark and immediate—gone was any trace of the man who had just moments before been consumed by desire and desperation. In his place stood the cold monarch I'd served for years, his face carved from granite and his eyes glacial with displeasure.
I could see Arthur battling the beast residing within him, his breath audible in the stillness, a testament to his internal struggle. Grimacing with effort, the hellfire began to dim from his eyes, simmering down into deep blue, no longer spiraling with menacing darkness. His jaw unclenched, and his hands relaxed from fists at his sides, the talons disappearing back into flesh. Soon afterward, the scales receded into white skin.
When he spoke again, it was with his own voice.
