One stroke, and the problem vanished. No witnesses but the trees. Nimue had already sunk beneath the water; the girl stood alone now, trembling like a doe at the lake’s edge.
Slay her. Take the sword.
It was the dragon's voice within my head. But I couldn't argue with it.
My kingdom. My crown. My destiny.
Kill her before anyone learns the truth.
But she didn’t look like a usurper—she looked terrified. No triumph in those eyes, only panic. I lowered my arm. The boy who drew Excalibur would never have slit a woman’s throat in the dark.
When had I become a man who could? The answer was obvious: the dragonmark.
She backed away from the lake, skirts catching on roots, and I followed silently. My fingers traced the dagger’s hilt, the metal cool and familiar—a king’s tool for dirty necessities.
I took a step forward.
The girl turned and collided with me, her hood slipping from her head to reveal hair as white as first snow. When she looked up at me, my breath caught.
Beauty.The dragon was as shocked as I was.
She gave off a little yelp, and I instinctively brought my hands up to her arms, holding her in place.
Her body was small, warm, pressed flush to mine. She smelled of lavender and water. Of earth. Her heartbeat slammed against my chest, wild and frantic.
You could so easily snap her in two...
When she looked up, the blood drained from her face.
“Your Majesty,” she gasped, attempting to curtsy awkwardly.
Her trembling form stirred something within me. Even the dragon, known for its hunger for conquest, fell silent. It watched through me, enthralled by the sheer magnetism of this stranger. Her skin was not the refined porcelain of court ladies, but sun-kissed and genuine, flushed. She carried a beauty untouched by artifice and false allure. And that hair… Fuck.
She bit her lip, gaze locked on mine. "I didn't mean—I didn't know I could..." Words tumbled, desperate to explain, yet inadequate.
She is ours.The dragon growled quietly, suddenly strangely protective and intrigued.
I didn't allow her to move.
Instead, I put a finger to her lips. “I saw everything.”
She glanced toward the lake, as if imploring Nimue to return.
“She can’t help you. No one can.”
She turned to face me once more, and her eyes were wide with fear. That fear pleased me. Fear was something I understood, something I could use. A fearful girl wouldn't rally armies against me. A fearful girl could be managed, manipulated, cowed.
"I didn't intend to—" The words stilled on her tongue—as if she didn't want to admit out loud what she'd just done. "Please believe me. I never intended to pull the sword.”
Her fear scents the air.
I gripped her shoulders, my fingernails digging into soft flesh. Moonlight carved her face into something almost unearthly—violet eyes, delicate jaw, pert nose, full lips parted in fear. Her full breasts rose and fell against my chest, her heat seeping through the thin fabric between us. The scent of water and lavender filled my head.
Her beauty was almost inhuman, painful to look at directly, like staring at the sun.
She stirs the ancient hunger.
The dragon wanted her. What was more? I wanted her.
