Page 15 of Brutal Dragon King

I can’t bear those eyes, fighting the urge not to cry against his ruthless behavior. I don’t know what possessed me out there to stand up against him and accuse him of needing me to validate his status when I refused to bow.

He is the king, after all, the ruler of the Nayara Dynasty. I was so close to witnessing him slaying his own royal secretary for her question, while he didn’t even threaten to kill me for my disobedience. It was frightening having to watch his dark, ominous presence tower over the woman who I thought couldn’t bat an eyelid for anything thrown her way, but it only reminded me that the dragon king is capable of murder.

I don’t know how I did it, but I stood up to him despite knowing what he did to my parents and what he was capable of. It only proved that the survival instinct I’ve had since the age of five is still alive and thriving, and it’s not going anywhere amid my twisted turn of fate.

I pushed his buttons so far, but the king didn’t kill me. He must be so determined not to waste his time on another reaping draw, that he’d rather keep me alive despite my insolence.

But now that has left me as the only slave to be given a room inside the palace. When I’m finally able to tear my eyesaway from him, it’s just in time for the guards to drag me through the gaping doors of the palace, and an involuntary gasp escapes me.

The white marble floors, coupled with the luxurious trimmings of fine gold, are mesmerizing, captivating, breathtaking even, as they serve as a stark contrast to the conditions I’ve lived in my whole life. Once again, I’m reminded of those harsh conditions, even if none of the lavishness around me comes close to the harsh conditions of the village.

Only the contrast of the difference in the circumstances stands out. When we’re in the center of the hallway, right beneath a hanging chandelier and standing on a plush carpet with softness so profound, I can feel it through the tattered soles of my shoes, we stop.

The royal secretary, Aerwyna, spins on her heel and faces me with a death-defying glare, her eyes bright with fury as she seemingly tries to make up for the scene outside.

Her scoff is loud enough to bounce off the far walls and high ceiling, but when it returns to my ears, I don’t flinch. A fleeting frown passes, but she quickly gathers her composure back with a rising, haughty chin.

“Let her go,” she tells the guards who have me bound. They hesitate to release me, but she lifts a hand midair and continues, “King Haidën has made it clear that he doesn’t want another reaping. She’s not going anywhere. She won’t be killed just yet.”

The guards grunt beside me before letting go. When my mind dwells on her last statement, I wring a hand over my arm that will probably be bruised by tomorrow.

I will not be killedyet.

It’s a reminder that I am still disposable once the king gets what he needs from me.

But until then, I can get away with murder, as I saw tonight. To avoid Aerwyna’s skeptical glare, my eyes flicker around the grand hallway when an idea comes to mind.

If the king doesn’t kill me just yet, I can entertain the fantasy of exacting my revenge for my parents’ murder. I can’t escape my fate, but I can make the most of it. I might not know how just yet, but I’ll figure something out.

I am a slave in the palace, and that’s my advantage. For a long time, I used to hear the whisperings of the guards during the previous reapings.

The child breeders were locked in an underground bunker every night, and weren’t treated like their lives were valuable, since, to the dragons, they’re not. But here I am, beholding the magnificent palace from the inside.

It’s something the secretary doesn’t seem glad about when she clicks her tongue and takes a step forward. To my surprise, she reaches out and strokes a long, manicured finger across my chin.

“Do not be fooled, human,” she sneers. “Just because you are in the palace, it does not mean you are one of us.”

Something is ignited inside me, and I ride the bravery that I felt when I was outside.

“I don’t want to be like you…” I bite back, narrowing my eyes at her.

She retracts her hand slowly, deliberately, her lips curling into a snarly smirk.

Without warning, she spins right in front of me, her hair swinging over her shoulder and the perfect ends slapping meacross the face. “Come,slave.”Aerwyna enunciates the last word with bitterness, then proceeds toward the flight of marble stairs ahead.

Hesitating, I glance over my shoulder at the guards on either side. The rest of the entourage remained to guard the door, while only the two that had been tugging me along like a ragdoll stay looming with menacing threat.

There isn't any distinct way out of the palace. Besides, even if I tried to run, I wouldn't get far. A dragon guard would easily sweep over and catch me.

No.

I will not try to run.

I will stay and fight.

If King Haidën thought his threats would silence me, he's in for a surprise.

There's just something tempting about the satisfaction I felt outside when I stood up against him, and I suddenly crave more. A longstanding fantasy that finally can come to fruition in the wake of me having nothing left to lose.

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