Page 41 of Brutal Dragon King

Everyone keeps reminding me that I am a slave, not passing up an opportunity to bring me down for what I am bybirth as a human. It's not like I chose this life, but I'm constantly made to feel as if it's a fault of mine that I'm human.

Not anymore.

I will show the king that he is not superior to me and that he's just as vulnerable as a human when I get the perfect chance to use this dagger on him.

It's time I took the plotting of my revenge seriously, and found a way to use the dagger on him. It's my only hope of releasing myself from these frightening feelings that keep me bound to becoming weak and affected when he spits vulgar words of contempt at me.

I should hate him enough not to be fazed. Idohate him, I remind myself as I glare at my reflection with conviction to renew my desire for revenge.

The constant badgering and reminders that I'm the slave can be used to my advantage.

What if I stopped feeling sorry for myself and used my status as a slave as a stepping stone for executing my plan?

If I stopped defying the king and accepted that I was his breeding slave, I could get close enough to use the dagger.

I could—

My scheming mind comes to an abrupt halt when I hear a commotion outside in the courtyard. Quickly tucking the dagger in its safe hiding spot behind the mattress when my gut erupts in panic, I straighten myself out and wipe away the tears.

Tears that should not have been shed in the first place. I should know by now that I am not important enough to the king for him to spare my dignity in front of others. Just as he's not important to me for me to spare his life.

I will find a way to kill him using that dagger. Call it gut instinct that alerts me that “dragonclaw” is a lethal thing against the dragons. I've always been able to trust my gut in the past, and now that I've been given the opportunity for revenge, that instinct of mine couldn't be louder.

Just as loud as it is right now to inform me that whatever the disturbance is at the bottom of the palace, it's here for me.

As I tread carefully toward the balcony, I gulp to swallow down my trepidations before strengthening my resolve to face what it is that plans on coming my way. It's almost as if I can feel the determination of someone to get to me, but for some strange reason, it's not the king.

Clutching my mother's pendant for strength as if it's charged with energy, one hand instinctively goes to my belly as if drawing the strength of my intuition. My brows furrow in confusion since I've never felt the need to physically trust my gut with a hand. When I reach the balcony platform and gaze down at the courtyard below, I realize that it's not the king who just returned to the palace.

I saw him leaving earlier with his brothers and guard just after that scene in the garden, so I'd been expecting his return. Perhaps even anticipate it as an opportunity to execute my revenge, even if I haven't devised a proper plan yet.

All I know, for now, is that I can use my slave position to my advantage and catch the king off-guard when the opportunity presents itself. I have to be smart about this, since the king is an intelligent dragon and always seems to be one step ahead, knowing exactly how to dispel my anger by throwing me into a whirlwind of desire that has me forgetting about my hatred. I'll have to be strong.

Right now, I have another reason to be strong, and it comes in the form of a stunningly beautiful woman with blonde hair and green, luminously radiant eyes. She flaunts her perfect, tall body in a kaftan of blues and burgundies, the sleeves flowing out like magical waves on either side of her.

The Queen Mother has arrived, and her arrival has drawn the attention of servants and guards who appear captivated by her presence as they bow all around her. But her attention is elsewhere, eyes pointed directly at me and holding me in a trance when I meet them.

My breath hitches in my throat, hands falling to my sides as my head lowers in a bow. When I lift my head again, I witness magick occur when the Queen Mother employs her witch powers, and the sleeves of her dress swirl around her ankles, turning into a cyclone at her feet. The force of the vortex causes her to levitate off the ground, the stirring lifting her gracefully until she's reached the balcony, where it carries her over the rails and lands her effortlessly on her feet.

My breath is stolen once again, and I'm in awe of what I just witnessed. I bow again, the act occurring naturally as the Queen Mother commands that level of respect just by being.

“Hello, child-bearer…” she purrs, a long, manicured finger curling out to tilt my chin.

When I meet her eyes again, she wears a coy, formidable smirk as she stares down at me.

“Have you been progressing with your assignment?” she asks with a raised brow.

“A—assignment?” I stammer. I don't remember receiving instructions to carry out any task.

The Queen Mother chuckles as she removes her finger from my chin and gracefully saunters into the guest bedroom. She takes a look around, humming as if she's agreeing to something, then drapes herself over the chaise sofa beside the dressing table.

She appears so picture-perfect, as if she's posing for her portrait to be painted, while she remains scrutinizing me with her penetrating gaze.

My eyes flicker to the bed where I'd hidden the dagger, but I quickly turn them back to Queen Mother Mana, not wanting her to become suspicious of me.

Blocking out my thoughts in the hope that she won't be able to read my mind and uncover my deepest, darkest fantasy and yearning for revenge, I swallow back my fears.

“That's why I'm here, child-bearer…” she laments with twinkling eyes. “... To ensure that you're not doing anything you shouldn't be doing.”

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