Page 199 of The Forbidden Dragon King
If I fail, I will die in the same way that Hadrian did.
I may not know what pack means but I’m trying. I will do what I can to protect my mates.
After what Maximinus made me do, after getting me drunk at my brother’s deathday, I know that there is no line with me that he won’t cross.
“You’re missing it,” Freya singsongs, holding her hand out to me.
I stroll to her, taking her hand.
“As far as I can tell from this story,” Daire gestures at the shadow puppets, “some big dragon was drowning in this enormous lake, or it may have been lava, I’m not sure, then…”
I narrow my eyes. “This is our origin myth. The big dragon is Primo, emerging from the shadows to create Draca kingdom out of his wings.”
“Aye, right.” Daire’s eyes twinkle.
The scoundrel knew that.
“Are any of you hungry again? I’m starving. How about another flame cake, love? They’re as hot as you are.” Daire twirls, diving back into the crowd toward the food stalls.
“Wait,” I call, but he doesn’t listen.
When does he?
Is he knocking into those festivalgoers on purpose,banging into people’s shoulders and tripping over them? It must be a weird type of protest or revenge for how he’d been treated, when I paraded him through these streets.
I wince and leave him to it.
I look for Wraith and Vicious, who are both hanging back on the edges of the crowd, watchful but unnoticed.
I nod at them, and they silently follow Daire.
Daire may be here with me, and the featherglass may have been mainly accepted by the citizens from most reports, but it wasn’t long ago that Daire was hated and humiliated by everyone here.
I trust my Golden Family to keep him safe.
“It’s good to see him smiling,” Freya says, happily.
“Now I know that all he needs is treats like a real kitten.”
“Remember that the next time you send him to the dungeons.”
My jaw clenches. “I won’t imprison him again.”
I push through to find Daire hovering over a stall, which is overflowing with sweet filled cakes. I take a deep breath of the delicious smelling ricotta, fig, and honey cakes.
They smell like the royal kitchens and long faded memories of Tarquin sneaking me treats after a beating from Uncle, when I was still small enough to live in the palace. Tarquin never talked about my punishments, only distracted me with gossip about the court, while handing me a honey cake like forgiveness.
It confused me.
I felt closest to my brother in those moments — loved.
Until Freya, honey has only reminded me of being comforted after pain. Familial love was being hurt for your own good and then kept compliant with sweet rewards.
Yet I worshiped honey from my Freya with only pleasure and no pain. In the sweetness between her thighs, I learned that I didn’t need to be hurt, before I could be loved.
“So, you won’t lock Daire up, even if he tries to assassinate you? Again?” Freya asks.
“Nay, you’re my dragon now.” Daire glances at me over his shoulder, smugly. “Why would I kill you?”
