4. Something Dangerous.

~DAHLIA~

I will survive this kingdom.

No matter what happens next, I will not be a slave.

Being a human princess already puts me at the bottom of the survival chain here, but I am this man's Queen Tribute.

And I plan to use so much of that to my advantage.

One of the Drakarithian soldiers opens my cage and brings me down. The ground burns into the soles of my bare feet.

It hurts.

As the soldier drags me forward, I refuse to stumble.

Not now in front of Azraelyrs.

The Dragon King stands at the top of the grand staircase. His eyes sweep over my form, eyes shining like an inferno of burning gold. Even from a distance, I can feel the intensity of the authority he carries. The brutal force of his raw power rolling off him in waves.

He is taller than I expected to see like the rumors said. A heavy fur-lined cloak drapes over his broad shoulders, giving him an air of savage royalty. The crown upon his head is a dark, jagged metal that looks like metal dragon claws curled around his temples.

But it’s his eyes that unsettle me the most as I approach closer.

They are not human.

Not entirely.

They are slitted like a dragon’s, watching me with a burning curiosity that makes my skin prickle with heat.

I will not let him see my fear.

The soldier shoves me down on my knees before him.

“Before you is Dahlia Rhadaya Balerion,” the soldier announces. “Dethroned princess of Velmira, offered as your Queen tribute.”

Silence.

Azraelyrs looks down on me, then simply turns around and walks away through the open doors I hadn't seen behind him.

Is he angry? Disgusted?

I am not given enough time to guess more because the soldier behind me yanks me up to my feet and pushes me forward to follow suit.

The instant I walk past those doors, I gulp in a silent breath.

This is a throne room.

But I don't stop walking.

The hall is massive. So much more massive than the one back home in Velmira. Its towering columns of pillars stretch upwards to the ceilings decorated with fire chandeliers shining inside glass enclosures. Warriors in dragon-forged armor line each column pillar, so many, and their faces are hidden behind black helmets.

There are no courtiers here. No potbellied nobles whispering filth.

Only warriors are here. Men of power and ruthlessness.

And at the heart of it all, Azraelyrs, their Dragon King.

But, something seems off.

On my way here, I hadn't seen any flying dragons. Only volcanos and scorched earth and dragon statues on top the spires bearing massive bowls of fire.

Where are their dragons?

There is still silence in the air except for when the doors of the throne room are shut. That is when Azraelyrs halts in the middle of the room and turns around with a lethal grace that immediately grabs my full attention.

This man is powerful.

And I should be very, very, smart and careful.

The soldier forces me to my knees once again before Azraelyrs. I hiss painfully, watching Azraelyrs close the distance between us.

When he finally reaches me, I suddenly find it hard to breathe. The room feels too small, too hot, too charged with something I don’t understand.

It's this King.

He towers over me, and then—

He lifts his hand.

I hold my breath, preparing myself for a blow.

But it doesn’t come.

Instead, his fingers gently curl under my chin, making me look up.

A mistake.

Because now, I see him up close.

Oh Creator….

He is not just handsome… he… he is devastatingly out of this world. His chocolate-colored hair is long and styled back into a sleek tied knot underneath his crown. His eyes still appear gold and slitted like a dragon’s, and his face is sharp, carved from stone and battle, with a strong stubbled jaw and perfectly aligned cheekbones that accentuate his face so well. A scar runs from his left brow down to the middle of his cheek, a cruel, jagged sign meaning that even a King like him can bleed.

I hate that my stomach twists.

I hate the way my breath catches at the sight of him.

I hate that up close like this, he smells of blood mandarin, sea salt, dark oud, and something else I can’t pinpoint but is no less dangerously intoxicating.

“This is the tribute Velmira dares to send to me?” He speaks finally.

The words drip with disdain. My body shivers a bit at the deepness of his voice. Even his voice holds so much power like a distant storm roaring over dark mountains.

He sounds angry. But that question of his makes me feel worthless.

“I was not sent,” I snap. “I was betrayed.”

Something flashes in his molten gold eyes.

Amusement?

Interest?

“Betrayed?” his fingers are still beneath my chin. “Betrayed by whom, princess?”

My heart pounds, but I refuse to lower my eyes from staring at him.

“I was betrayed by Queen Andessa.” The name burns on my tongue. “She killed my father. Stole my throne. Stripped me of my rights. And sent me here to die.”

Azraelyrs hums, slightly tilting his head to the side.

“Then why should I waste my time with a dethroned princess?” His voice is calm now, almost lazy, yet sharp.

I inhale slowly. “Because if you kill me now, you’ll be doing her a favor.”

A slow, dark smile curves his lips.

And those lips….

“Is that so?” he asks, pulling me back.

My pulse roars in my ears. I am playing a dangerous game.

“Yes,” I answer. “And I doubt a mighty Dragon King like you enjoys being used like a pawn.”

Silence.

Then—

He lets out a low chuckle.

The sound sends a shiver rushing pleasantly down my spine, not only from fear, but also from something dangerous I feel he possesses.

Interest.

Power.

Curiosity.

And probably the lazy Art of Seduction.

His thumb brushes along my jaw, a soft touch so fleeting I am not sure if it even happened.

And then, just as suddenly as the sensation of the touch vanished, he releases me.

“Take her to the lower dungeon chambers,” he orders his men. “She will not be executed.”

I exhale sharply.

But before I can fully process my relief, he adds, “Yet.”

I am not going to die YET.

The same soldier that forced me down on my knees, alongside another soldier, pull me up to my feet and silently begin to evict me away from the throne room.

Outside, heat radiates from the obsidian walls and braziers of the fortress, filling my lungs with the scent of fire and molten stone. All I can think about is how to make Andessa pay for what she has done.

All I want is to watch her grovel before me and beg with every drop of her blood right before I crush her and all those who contributed to my father's demise.

Even if there is every chance that I will go down, I, Dahlia Rhadaya Balerion, will not go down alone because I am going to drag Andessa and all of her fellow perpetrators down into hell with me.

But right now, my fate at the moment seems to be in the hands of a King whose judgment I do not yet understand.