Page 13 of A Bond of Fire and Roses

Priest Jean sighs. “They poisoned some of the lakes around here with dragon poison, imported in. The dragons frequent to drink from several of these lakes, but they were smart enough not to and sensed the danger.” Anger floods my senses. To hurt a dragon is an insult to the gods who protect us…and if they killed one, I wouldn’t show them any mercy. “The gods tell me that this marriage will calm the rebellion and bring much needed peace. The sooner you are married, and she is with child, the better.”

No pressure then. I want to snap at him, ask him if he has met the princess. She won’t give me a day’s peace if she has her own way. “I am also aware of this, but I still don’t want to marry her. She’s the child of my enemy—people I’ve spent my whole life making sure ended up dead for their treason. Do you remember what they did? Do you recall how my people’s bodies littered the streets that day we walked through them?”

Silence rings between us all, as we all know it’s true and there isn’t a single thing I can do about the past. I’m a king, with all the power in the kingdoms, except over her. I made sure her father brutally died for everything that he had done in these kingdoms. Marrying his daughter is the ultimate fuck you, but it was never in my plan until I saw her eyes. I think back to the first moment I met her. She was pressed against a wall of the falling castle, smothered in smoke, and yet so rebellious in the face of my dragon. My dragon was a creature she had never seen, who promised a certain death in the name of fire, and she didn’t blink. I was covered in her father’s blood, for fuck’s sake, and she still faced me down, like a warrior, and I couldn’t kill her.

I couldn’t kill her, like I should have done, and that decision has always haunted me.

I knew keeping her alive would mean only one thing; she would become my bride, or she’d die at my hand. I ended up choosing the former, and I don’t fucking know why.

Noble touches the map. “People are still loyal to her family—to her name. The wealthy at least are. The poor are completely behind you. We need unity and it would be a war if you didn’t marry her. The rich still remember the times when her parents ruled and how they benefited.”

No one dares speak about how exactly they benefitted. The mines. I clench my jaw at the memories I will never be able to erase from my mind. Those mines were truly one of the more horrific sides of the kingdom I witnessed when I took over. Her parents were obsessed with diamonds and gold, with being richer than any other kingdom, like a race that only they cared for. Even if it cost hundreds of thousands of their people’s lives and forced half a million of them to live underground and suffer to serve them. Any crime that was committed, whether it was as simple as robbing a slice of bread because they were starving, or murdering someone that was trying to kill them, they were thrown into the mines. Sometimes they were sent down there for no good reason. Their families were sent too, whether they caused the crime or not. They were always taken in the name of the royal family, and once in the mines, they were as good as dead. They were locked in, never allowed to see daylight or feel fresh air again. Children were born in the mud, and died in the same cave, never once seeing an ounce of the outside world. I don’t think they even got to see the sky or what a cloud looked like. All the death, pain and misery, just to mine for gold and diamonds to line the pockets of a kingdom that did not care for them. They didn’t even need the coin; the king and queen were more than rich enough.

The mines were the worst of it, but slavery was rife in their kingdom. And it was brutal. Freedom was a dream, not a reality, until I flew in on my dragons and burnt that kingdom into a free flame. “The nobles will never be happy because I took away all their slaves, burnt down the mines that fed them gold and diamonds, and told them to fucking serve me or die. I will fly my dragon around that city and burn the fucking cowards to stop this madness.” I snarl. I’ve absolutely had enough of them, the ungrateful little shits. It’s been years. Years of this crap.

“Maybe we can make a new plan that doesn’t involve burning a city down and naming you a tyrant,” Priest Jean softly suggests, ever the voice of reason. It’s not surprising. He looks old enough to be a god in his white robes and wrinkled skin. “We’ll bring the marriage forward. There’s no point holding her here and not making the marriage immediately happen. The kingdom can celebrate the marriage and wait for news of an heir. It will be exactly what we need.”

Yes, a celebration for them, and a fucking life sentence for me.

“Go and get the preparations ready. You are dismissed.” The rest of my council leave, and I lift my head, looking out of the arch windows, over my kingdom hidden behind the mountains. I was hoping my bride would be some obedient, quiet princess that wouldn’t push me too far. Instead, she is defiant, fucking gorgeous, and is already driving me to the point of insanity and we’ve only been together a day. What will an entire marriage do to us?

“You look like you’re about to marry an ugly troll instead of a princess,” Noble pats my back. “Smile, you fucker. She sounds amazing.”

“I hate her and everything she is,” I snarl. “This marriage is going to be nothing but a transaction between us.”

“Look, she’s been locked up in that boring shithole and she knows you’re the person who killed her parents. So, she ran and tried to kill you, so what? It makes her smart and capable.” He looks over the kingdom with me. “Traits you might want in your future queen who will be the mother of your children one day. She’s probably not even aware of how evil her parents were, as she was just a child herself when you killed them. I know that you want to hate her because of who she was born to be but give her a chance. Like you said, she’s gorgeous, strong-willed and you usually like that in women. Your dragon likes her, and she hates everyone. I see all this as a good sign. Give her a few orgasms and your usual charming smiles, and she will soon love you like the rest of the kingdom.”

I push off the table, heading to the door. “It can never be more than a marriage for our thrones and for the people. She hates me and I hate her, and I don’t plan on changing that. End of story.”

Noble laughs like it’s the funniest thing he’s heard all day. “I’ve never seen you this riled up, my brother, and you’ve never lied to me before.”

I’m tempted to growl at him, but I leave it, knowing I’ll just prove his point. My guards begin to follow me as I storm down the corridor, and I stop mid step. I want to be alone. “I’m going for a ride. Make sure there are guards stationed by the princess’s room and she doesn’t end up dead while I’m gone.” I pause, adding as an afterthought, “Watch her, but unless she is in danger, don’t let her see you.”

They bow, leaving me to it and I trust them to follow my orders. I don’t need their protection, but she clearly does. My dragon is waiting in the courtyard, so in tune with my emotions that she knows that I need to fly before I explode in flames. When I’m up in the sky, I don’t feel like I’m chained to the princess, or to the kingdom below, unable to escape either of them.

CHAPTER SIX

Iwake up to something I haven’t smelled in years.

Pancakes.

The scent teases my senses the moment I open my eyes the next morning. My mouth instantly waters, as if recalling what they used to taste like, a mere flicker of my childhood before it was taken from me.

I reach for the breakfast tray on my nightstand and carefully place it beside me on the bed. The pancakes are fluffy like clouds and drenched in maple syrup. My eyes all but water as I rush to cut a bite and I nearly moan at the sweet taste on my tongue. I haven't been allowed anything sweet like pancakes and maple syrup in years. Priestess Gabriella used to say it would make me fat and she controlled every little bit of food I ate. A sharp pang stabs me in the chest when I take another bite, instinctively recalling the mornings spent eating stacks of pancakes with my parents on my birthday. When I close my eyes, I can still see them sitting at the table, even smell the freshly clotted cream on my mother’s lip, or the honey mixed in my father’s tea. It was one of the rare times we ate together, and my birthday pancakes quickly became one of my fondest memories. It was so rare to eat with them and I cherished every moment we got to spend as a family.

I eat the rest of the pancakes slowly, acutely aware of how vastly my taste buds have been deprived of sweet things. It’s like eating them for the first time. The pang in my chest is soon replaced with guilt as my thoughts stray from the past to the present, and to Lochlan in particular.

Lochlan…

Wherever he is, I hope he manages to find delicious food like this. He deserves it more than me. My appetite shifts at the thought of him, and I struggle to finish the rest of my breakfast, but I force every bite down. I need my strength now more than ever. I devour the rest of the pancakes, the plump strawberries next, and finally the sugar-coated mandarin until the plate is empty. I take a sip of the orange juice, the ripeness dancing on my tongue. I can’t remember the last time I drank fruit juice like this; the convent always watered ours down.

Once I’ve eaten, I lay back on the bed, my belly full and thirst quenched. It’s then something else rises within me from last night. Something I never expected to feel in the presence of my enemy…something I felt with Loch. Lust. Desire. A burning that hovers in my blood, begging to be quenched. With Loch, the feeling felt soft and quiet, but with the king it is violent and destructive.

The king’s face, bathed in golden flames, sears its way through my mind. I shut my eyes but his lips and that smug smile of his still taunts me. It doesn’t make sense. I have hated Erax for more than half my life. I’ve spent years nurturing my hatred for him and carving it into the very depths of my being. How in the gods could he make me feel… that?

He almost kissed me last night, and for the shortest of breaths, I had wanted him to. I wanted to know what my enemy tasted like, what those murderous lips would feel like pressed against my own. Would they taste like blood, like the blood that forever coats his hands? Or would they taste like something else entirely?

Last night was the first time in my existence I wanted to find out.

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