Page 53 of Brutal Dragon King

Though I’d been basking in the news that she was pregnant with my child, I couldn't help but wonder why she tried to kill me.

Was it some vendetta to avenge her kind when she thought I would have killed her if she wasn't pregnant?

Were my words that morning so brutal that she'd become determined to end my life?

Althea appears startled by my question, eyes widening as the flushed color of blush seeps from her cheeks. She stares at me bewilderedly, her bottom lip worrying as she slides her hands out from mine.

I know there's something she isn't telling me, and I don't use force to get the truth out of her. I'd been using force all along with Althea, and it's always been met with resistance.

After suffering the thought of almost losing her, I want to hear from her and give her a chance to speak without being the cause of her resistance to me.

“Talk to me, Althea…” I gently coerce her even when she turns around, hugging her chest.

“I—” she pauses, her shoulders lifting and falling, and I'm guessing she just gulped as if the truth is too painful to speak about.

I reach out instinctively, wanting to offer her comfort, when her timid voice squeaks, and she continues.

“I never wanted any of this, King Haidën… Especially after my parents died because of you.”

Suddenly, I pause, retracting my hand with a frown growing on my face.

“Your parents died because of me?” I murmur in confusion.

Althea suddenly snaps around, her eyes gleaming pits of fury.

“Your men killed them! My parents died at your hands, King Haidën!” she yells, the rage in her eyes growing to fiery heights as her face contorts with her anger. “Their blood is onyourhands!”

Althea's chest heaves rapidly, with anger coursing through her and breaking our moment of tenderness. I see the manic shift in her eyes and recognize the look from the one I saw when she had the dagger pressed to my throat.

The innocent lives she spoke of were her parents…

“Althea, I don't think—”

“No, Haidën!” she roars with the very same aggravation that's driven all her previous defiance. This time, it seems to have reached boiling point, and she takes a bold step forward, lifting her chin with much more than defiance when she prodded an accusing finger between my chest.

“My life was ruined the day they were murdered on the outskirts of The Emberlands!” she accuses. “Your men killed them and left me as an orphan to face the malice of the villagers. They called me a bad omen for being an orphan, ridiculed me for how I looked, and hated me all because my parents died!”

Her eyes gloss over with stubborn tears that she clearly refuses to shed, overcome with intense emotion. She exhales an exasperated breath, and I know she's done saying everything she needs to.

It's my turn to speak, but it isn't anger I use in my tone when I gently wrap a hand over the wrist where she has a finger pointed at my chest.

“What were their names?” I ask in a steady tone, to which Althea's frown deepens.

“Why would you care?!”

“What were their names, Althea?” I repeat calmly, measuredly, as I tighten my grip on her wrist to let her know that I'm serious, but not upset.

A moment of silence passes as Althea glowers at me as if trying to read my intention of the simple question. “M-Magdalene and Andrew Waters…”

I begin frowning as I mull over their names, and soon, it strikes me that I've heard their names before.

Nothing in the kingdom occurs without my knowledge.

“They were murdered twenty years ago…” I whisper with careful consideration.

“Y-yes…” Althea murmurs.

I nod slowly as I sigh. “It wasn't my men who killed them, Althea. It was a group of thugs from the Wyrmwood Forest. Mutated panthers, I believe.”

---