Page 145 of The Forbidden Dragon King
I can’t tear my gaze away from Daire, and nor can anybody else.
Is that truly Daire?
The outfit is shimmering white. It should be plain but on Daire, the simplicity is a revelation. The white silk clings tantalizingly to every plane of his athletic body, revealing his translucent thighs through deep slits on each slinky step.
The outfit falls off his shoulders, putting the scars that wind up his arms like ivy on display.
The moonlight glints on his curls, which have been artfully piled on the top of his head with silver raven feathers woven through them.
Gossamer iron chains, too thin to be more than decoration but yet that still must sting, have been hung on his wings. Their symbolic statement about Daire’s prisoner status makes me certain that Maximinus had this costume designed.
Maximinus looks smug, as if he’s expecting derision and laughter from the gathered nobles at this captured king who has been forced to play at courtesan.
Satisfaction and pride surges through me, however, that no one laughs, as Daire pads over the marble with an icy expression.
There is nothing but a mesmerized silence.
Daire has enraptured everyone here. He’s weaponized his seduction and the moment of his humiliation.
On this battlefield, he’s the fucking winner.
I stroke over my bond mark, hoping that Daire can feel my respect and savage joy.
I’m certain that Daire can, when his gaze meets mine, holding it for a long moment,
“Kitten,” Aurelius sighs, softly.
Daire’s surprised eyes widen, before he scrutinizes the way that Aurelius is slumped on the couch and his unfocused gaze with suspicion.
“Drunk,” I mouth.
Daire looks more wary, stopping in front of the couches.
“What are you waiting for?” Maximinus smiles, nastily. “Entertain us, pet.”
I expect Daire to either act defiant and sass like he normally does or else, smile and turn on his charm.
Instead, he does neither.
He stands, a conquered king amongst his enemies, remaining as icy as before. He looks at me, as if I’m the only one who he truly sees.
Then he starts to sing, quietly at first and then building in strength.
My skin goosebumps.
The hall is eerily quiet.
Even the Beta servants have stopped working and are standing, spellbound.
I have read that fae have voices only rivaled by the ancient Shadow Elves in beauty. Voices so beautiful thatif other races listen too long, then they may be driven mad.
I believe it now.
The song is like rainfall.
It’s pretty but mournful in an ancient fae tongue that sounds as old as rune magic.
No one here needs to be bonded to Daire to feel his pain because they can hear it in every note that he sings.
