Page 33 of Kingdom of Darkness and Dragons
I began to stroke him in time with my thrusts, a brutal, relentless rhythm that pushed him closer and closer to the edge. He cried out, a choked, desperate sound as his body began to tremble, the first tremors of his release shaking through him.
"Come for me, Septimus," I commanded, my voice a guttural rasp. "Give it all to me."
His back arched, his hips bucking against my hand, and with a final, ragged shout, he came, his release hot and thick over my fingers. The sight of him, the feel of his body breaking apart for me, shattered my own control. A roar ripped from my throat, more dragon than man, as I followed him into the abyss, my own release a violent, shuddering wave that felt like it was tearing my soul from my body. I drove into him one last time, emptying myself completely, my teeth sinking into the muscle of his shoulder in a final, possessive bite.
He gasped at the sharp pain but didn't pull away, his body accepting the mark.
I collapsed against him, spent, my heart hammering against his back. The scent of sweat, sex, and pine filled the air. I stayed buried inside him, unwilling to break the connection, my hand still gripping his hip. He was mine. In every way that mattered, he was mine. And he knew it.
12
The summons came at dawn, delivered by a stone-faced guard who wouldn't meet my eyes. "His Imperial Majesty requests your immediate presence in the throne room, my Lord Northreach.”
Requests. As if I had a choice.
Thankfully, I had been up late studying the night before and had chosen to remain in my own chambers rather than slip along and see if there was space in Livia’s bed. After several nights in a row of exploring our new found relationship dynamic, I had grudgingly admitted to myself that I was in need of a good night’s rest, and was unlikely to get much of that in Livia’s quarters, as enticing as her bed was.
I dressed quickly in my formal robes, the heavy silk feeling like chains across my shoulders. The carriage ride and the walk through the palace corridors seemed longer than usual, each step echoing off marble walls that suddenly felt more like a tomb than a home. Servants and courtiers I passed averted their gazes, their usual obsequious greetings replaced by nervous silence.
The throne room doors loomed before me, carved with scenes of Imperial conquest that I'd admired as a child. Now they seemed grotesque, all that violence rendered in beautiful detail. The guards pushed them open, and I walked across the vast expanse of polished floor toward the man who had shaped my entire world.
Emperor Valerius sat on the Golden Throne, resplendent in purple and gold, the very image of Imperial power. But I saw him differently now—saw the calculating coldness in his eyes, the way he held himself like a spider at the centre of an enormous web. When had I stopped seeing my father and started seeing only the Emperor?
"Jalius," he said, using my real name. "Come closer."
I approached the required distance and bowed, though the gesture felt hollow. "You summoned me, Father."
"Indeed." He leaned back in his throne, studying me with those small dark eyes that missed nothing. "I wanted to discuss the changing atmosphere in the city. Have you noticed it?"
A chill ran down my spine. "In what way?"
"The people's attitude toward the Talfen threat has... evolved considerably since the festival attack." His voice was conversational, almost pleasant, as if we were discussing the weather. "There's a new understanding among the citizenry about what monsters we truly face."
The casual way he said it—monsters—made my stomach clench. But it was the underlying satisfaction in his tone that truly disturbed me. He was pleased about the attack, pleased about the terror and death it had caused.
He was using the grief of his own people as a political tool, fanning the flames of their fear to justify his war. The cold-blooded calculation of it was breathtaking. I had always known my father was ruthless, but this was a new depth of depravity.
“It was a tragedy, Father,” I said, my voice carefully neutral. “Many innocent lives were lost.”
“Innocence is a luxury we can no longer afford,” he countered, his eyes narrowing slightly. “War requires sacrifice. The people understand that now. They are ready to give what is necessary to ensure the security of the Empire.”
"They fear what they do not understand," I said, my voice carefully neutral. "And the attack has given them something to fear."
"Fear is the bedrock of loyalty," he replied, a thin, cruel smile touching his lips. "And it is time to build. That is why the attack was a necessity. Sometimes harsh measures are required to open people's eyes to the truth."
For a moment, I couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. The implication of his words settled over me like ice water, and I felt my world tilt sideways. "You... you knew about it. You allowed it to happen."
"I orchestrated it." His voice remained maddeningly calm.
“Fear is a powerful tool, Jalius. The most powerful. The people needed to see firsthand what the Talfen are capable of. How savage, how dangerous.
It unites them. It gives them a common enemy. It makes them willing to accept measures they might otherwise have found... unpalatable.
A few strategic deaths to prevent thousands more—it was a simple calculation."
"A few strategic deaths?" The words came out strangled. "Father, children died in that attack. Families were torn apart. People I knew—"
"Regrettable but necessary casualties in a larger war." He waved a dismissive hand. "The city guard was positioned to minimize the damage while still allowing sufficient... demonstration of Talfen brutality."
