Everything my mother did was about control. The moment I ceased being useful, I became disposable. The queen would stop at nothing to finish what she had started. But the king’s proximity was hardly comforting; his psychopathic tendencies ran just as deep.
The vastness of his power astonished me. It felt pure, benevolent even. How could a man so cruel wield something that felt so good?
Focusing on the warmth, I wondered whether I could ever see him differently. Could I trust him to conjure a dragon and not unleash it in war?
‘How are you feeling?’ His voice was groggy; my stirring must have woken him.
My pulse quickened. Now that I could think clearly, the realisation that the King of Fogoya lay behind me in bed was mortifying.
‘It doesn’t feel like an endless pit where my fire used to be any more.' I sighed, unsure of what to say. ‘Thank you.’
Dracon shifted, lifting his hands from my stomach, seemingly deeming the contact through my back sufficient. ‘And physically?’
‘Well, I expected to be dead. Anything less severe, I can cope with,’ I muttered.
‘Ah, back to the usual humour.’ Without even looking, I could sense the smirk in his tone.
I felt so lost. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘The worst I can do is not answer,’ he replied dryly.
Actually, there was far worse he could do, but I didn’t bother pointing that out.
‘The forest,’ I breathed, feeling one of his arms hook around my waist again. The gesture felt possessive, almost defensive, as though the mention itself unsettled him.
Staying clear-headed around his flames was nearly impossible. His power filled me like bursts of light, caressing wounds I hadn’t realised were still there.
My defeated magic leapt to meet his, eager and trembling. I never realised crumbs of it had been replenished.
It was pathetic that even after he mistreated me, the fire within my magic was desperate for him. My body relaxed even as my mind screamed not to.
‘It’s natural,’ his low, husky voice cut through my thoughts.
‘What?’ I stilled, his proximity scattering every coherent thought.
‘Your fire reacting to mine. I can feel you tense every time they cross. Let it be.’ He leaned back, shifting our position a little and yawning. ‘The forest helps those it deems worthy.’
The forest thought I was worthy?
‘It’s just… I never shared my power with anyone before,’ I said quietly. ‘My fire’s excited to connect.’
The king laughed softly, not mockingly but almost warmly. It unsettled me more than his anger ever had.
‘Don’t overthink it. Fire-breathers don’t go around connecting left and right either.’ His voice turned much softer, almost conversational. ‘Most of my people see power-sharing as an intimate thing.’
The confession deepened my blush. The skin beneath his palms grew hot, my body betraying my confusion.
‘Ortensians like to share,’ I managed, trying to sound casual. ‘Though with the trust issues, they all wear enchanted moonstones to protect themselves.’
He shifted a little to look at my face and frowned. ‘What’s the point of sharing if you think they’ll drain you?’
I glared into his bright eyes. ‘Aren’t you scared I might drain you?’
‘Would you, princess?’ The whisper brushed my ear as he doubled the flames flowing into my body.
My head dropped forwards in pure bliss as warmth caressed every part of me, coaxing my muscles to relax and my mind to surrender. It enveloped me like a blanket of intoxicating heat,and it took every ounce of will not to lose myself in it. I was losing that battle. The world narrowed to fire and heartbeat, mine and his.
‘Would you steal it, little witch?’ he teased softly.
