Page 16 of Brutal Dragon King

I'd lost my parents twenty years ago, and tonight, it feels like I've lost any semblance of my freedom. It's hardly the freedom I had before when I was the subject of the village's disdain, but at least I wasn't forced to bear a dragon cub and face the grueling reality that my death is imminent once I've given the king what he needs.

Taking a deep breath, I will my spirit into gear and pass my moment of hesitation as a bemusing thought comes to mind. Imagine me, a worthless human, disrupting the palace of The Spine, taking on the mighty and powerful king as revenge for what he did to my parents…

What he did to me…

Losing them paved the way for a desolate future, and now, it's culminated in a life that wasn't even worth living in the first place.

Why not bask in the luxury of embracing my surroundings? Why not enjoy the perks of getting the little revenge I can on the king by being disobedient and maybe, just maybe, finding a way to hurt him?

As I follow Aerwyna up the extravagant flight of stairs, I run my fingers through the damp strands of my hair, grimacing at its greasiness. When Aerwyna takes a sharp left on the landing, I pull my hands out of my hair and straighten my expression, not wanting to give her another reason to belittle me.

I've had enough for one night. Though I'm hardly fazed by their taunts—or anyone's, for that matter—I've spent all my energy on facing the ruthless king tonight. Perhaps it hasn't fully settled in that I'm the king's breeding slave, still running on adrenaline that will no doubt pass by the morning. Or, perhaps it's the mere fact that I'm the only slave in the palace building, entering the elevator behind Aerwyna as the speakers sing a lulling tune as if to soothe my being.

The confines of the elevator, when the doors slide shut, and it begins moving, feels constricting, as if the walls are closing in around me as a gentle but firm reminder that I'm nothing but a prisoner here, even with my privilege. Something tells me that it's no privilege to be kept under the king's pointed nose, and the insufferable silence that stretches keeps me avidly avoiding Aerwyna's pointed, berating gaze.

She doesn't breathe another word to me, her haughtily lifted chin aimed out ahead of her with her arms crossed overher chest. For a moment, I thought she might threaten me in the privacy of the lift.

Perhaps the fate that awaits me is even worse than I care to acknowledge right now, and the royal secretary has better insight than I do. As soon as the doors slide open, she saunters out into a brightly lit hallway with a fine rolling carpet, exotic in its rich shades of burgundy and navy, and walls so pristinely white, the paint seems fresh.

I just step out over the threshold that separates the elevator's steel structure from the grand hallway, when a figure up ahead stops Aerwyna in her tracks. I do the same, pausing as I lift my eyes to observe the figure that seems to float forward on featherlight feet.

My breath is snatched, most probably from the swirling orbs of iridescent green that lock with my eyes like I'm hypnotized. With whispering waves of her sleeves swaying out at her sides gracefully, the blonde-haired woman soars forward. As she comes closer, her emerald eyes become colder, her ethereal face hardening.

“What is this?” she asks, her firm tone directed at Aerwyna while she scowls at me. She's close enough now to tower over me with her slim, beautifully tall body. The woman oozes wealth from head to toe, beholding the palace's wealth and opulence with her fine silk robe of paisley patterns and the potent scent of roses she carries with her. It's intoxicating, and mesmerizing as her entire aura demands respect.

“Her Majesty, the Queen Mother,” Aerwyna says, quickly bowing. She too, has been taken by the woman's ethereal presence.

Even I'm unable to stop myself from bowing, not putting up a fight like I did with her son, the king. It's only whenI'm staring at the Queen Mother's golden, pointed shoes, that I realize she must naturally exude dominance and demand respect with the assistance of the magick she wields.

Unlike the others, she's not a dragon shifter, though she might possess the power to shift into any form she liked. Her magnificence screams of not only a wealth of possessions and the extravagant palace, but a wealth of knowledge and power unlike any being.

In some ways, the witches living in The Emberlands enjoy their freedom solely because the Queen Mother herself is a witch. The high priestess who hails from the Astral Plateau is the most powerful of them all and had been the Queen of all three kingdoms in the Nayara Dynasty for centuries alongside her husband, King Aidën, and together, they had three sons; Haidën, Jaidën, and Kaidën.

The dragon king disappeared soon after, and the Queen was left to foster her children alone, growing them into the powerful and ruthless kings they are today, each ruling over a portion of the Dynasty, with districts in The Emberlands.

Her fierce and resilient nature alone demands respect, and she doesn't have to lift a finger to command it.

The mystical being is stunning, her aura exuding the power she wields. When she snaps her fingers, my eyes flick to the long, manicured nails at the tips, and her palm opens as if she's magically drawing my attention up.

“Why is the slave in King Haidën's quarters?” she demands, her voice soft and firm as she glowers at me.

Aerwyna keeps her head lowered when she replies, “The king has ordered for her to be placed in the guest bedroom, Your Majesty.”

“Hmm…” the Queen Mother hums with a speculative frown as she sizes me from head to toe. She clicks her tongue as she saunters forward, clutching my chin in those perfect fingers and turning my face from side to side to inspect it.

I feel like an experiment, a prototype that no one has seen before, but still despises because of my tacky clothes and plumper cheeks. Abruptly releasing my chin, the Queen Mother clicks her tongue derisively, stepping back on heeled feet and looming over me.

“Bow, slave,” she commands, and I instantly drop my head. “I am Queen Mana, the mother of the king whose heir you shall bear.”

Nodding tentatively, I keep my eyes lowered as Queen Mother Mana questions Aerwyna about my presence in the palace.

The secretary explains what's going on, and a series of more snidely clicks of the Queen Mother's tongue rings out.

“Take her directly to the bedroom chamber,” Queen Mana instructs Aerwyna. “There is no need to give the slave a tour of the royal palace.”

Aerwyna nods hastily, standing ramrod straight as she digests the command and waits for the Queen Mother to disappear behind us, entering the elevator.

I have no idea what just happened, but I was compelled to show her respect even if I despise everyone in The Spine. She demands the honor, and I'm just glad when the elevator beeps to signal its descent. Her hostility toward me isn't unusual, but it leaves a bitter sting in my gut.

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