Page 60 of Bride of the Black Dragon
“Open in the name of the Queen!”
The voice is male, loud, and authoritative. It rings with that distinctive tone of a palace official on a power trip.
I flinch as my heart leaps into my throat, and every muscle in my body goes tight. Ice water floods my veins.
It’s happening. We’re caught.
Xaren’s face hardens instantly. His eyes go cold—still golden, but now like molten metal cooling into steel. He draws himself up to his full height, every inch of his muscular frame radiating power and defiance.
“Stay behind me, little dove,” he murmurs, not turning his head. “I’ll deal with this.”
I obey without thinking, staying in his shadow. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel it in my throat. I don’t even know who’s behind that door. I don’t know what they saw or what they’ll say or what the Queen will do—but I know I don’t want to face it alone.
I put a hand on my heart and try to steady myself as Xaren strides to the door.
He places one hand on the handle…takes a deep breath.
And then he opens it.
30
ELAINA
The moment the heavy oak door swings open, I know we’re in trouble.
Four of the Queen’s personal guards stand in the corridor, their polished silver-and-black armor catching the torchlight and gleaming like the sharp edges of blades. Each of them has a sword drawn—bare steel, naked and ready.
My breath catches in my throat. Goddess above!
This isn’t just a formal summons. This is a show of power—of force. They want to make a scene.
The man in front—a tall, grim-faced male with a deep scar across one cheek who I recognize as the Captain of the Queen’s own guard—raises his chin and speaks in a clipped, authoritative tone.
“Prince Xaren, by order of Her Majesty the Queen, you’re to come with us. The Princess too.”
Princess.
The word hits me like a slap.
Not Lady Elaina or even Mistress Elaina. Just the Princess. As though I’m a possession now—an extension of the throne. Or maybe a tool to be wielded—or punished.
I feel my spine stiffen, but Xaren reacts first.
He steps fully into the doorway, broad shoulders filling the frame. I can only just see around him, but I feel the heat radiating off his body—like coals banked under the surface, ready to explode if stoked too far.
“You can sheathe your swords,” he says coldly. “I’ll come with you freely, provided you don’t lay a finger on my wife.”
His voice is soft…controlled. But there’s a thread of steel running beneath it that could slice a man clean through.
The guards don’t lower their weapons, but there’s a flicker of uncertainty in the Captain’s eyes. He swallows, then glances at the others.
Xaren doesn’t wait for a reply. He steps back into the room, turning to face me, and I see the look in his eyes—protective, burning, possessive.
“You stay behind me, little dove,” he murmurs again. “No one will harm you while I draw breath.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
Then he turns back to the guards.
