Chapter 3

Zarek’s POV

Alistair, my steward, entered my room right as the clock struck six. Punctual as ever.

Without waiting for me to address him, he announced, “The first set of this year’s tributes are waiting just outside, your majesty.”

I flicked my fingers, voice cold, “Let the first one in.”

Sometimes, I wondered why I even bothered. Alistair bowed out of the room and I sat heavily on the bed to wait.

Clasping my hands together, I leaned forward, considering the stone tiles of the chamber floor. How many timid humans had skittered in over those tiles and run out again? How many foolish girls had burned themselves on my skin?

This will end like all the others. Why even bother?

My head ached with the ever-present reminder of why I had to go on.

I may have ruled this country for centuries, but I’d yet to obtain what I needed most: an heir.

Only three of us remained and I was running out of time.

Not one human could ever know that I was under a curse. I’d laughed off the idea myself, at first—before it started to truly torment me.

They mustn’t learn that their feared Dragon King would one day become a mindless beast, lost to reason. Not until I’d secured a future for my race. Not until I had a child of my own.

A prophet had claimed there would be a true queen who could give me an heir, but every single human woman who’d tried had ended up a corpse.

Year after year, I’ve searched. I’ve experimented. I’ve tried, dash it all.

Nothing but ten years of deaths in my own bed.

A strawberry blond tribute with an unfortunate pug nose opened the door, her hands shaking. Even her knuckles were white as she fully entered the room. When her eyes met mine, she dropped to her knees.

“Please,” she begged, hands on the floor entreatingly. “Please have mercy, your majesty!”

I sighed, deciding I might as well quickly touch her shoulder and see if the heat burned her. Yet when I simply stood from the bed, she screamed, a long piercing sound that made my headache pulse stronger.

As abruptly as the scream started, it ended with a thump. She fell fully to the floor, face pressed to the tiles I had just been considering.

Closing my eyes tightly for a moment, I tried to find some measure of patience for the weak tribute slumped unconscious on my floor. She had fainted at the smallest movement from me. This sort of fear was what made humans so volatile.

You never knew what they would do next.

Well, this one was just an innocent, foolish girl.

“Get her out,” I ordered the servants standing nearby.

They jumped to it, pulling her out of my chambers by the arms. One ridiculous yellow shoe fell off her foot as they dragged her away, making a third servant leap into action. He grabbed the shoe and followed his fellows out the door, closing it with far too many bows behind them.

What a circus of errors.

The second tribute slid into the room before the servants could close the door.

“Good evening, your majesty,” she bowed in the traditional manner of the artists’ guilds. Her red scarves and silks marked her as a performer. At least that meant she could keep her composure under pressure.

“My name is Kiki and I have worshipped fire since childhood.” She looked up with lidded eyes, a smile quirking her lips, “Some call me a master of flame after they see me dance.”

“I see,” I rested my chin on my hand. She would not be the first to claim such a thing.

I gestured her closer and she pranced over, red hair bouncing with exuberance. Such enthusiasm for such a fragile human. Her acrobat’s figure wouldn’t stop her from shattering in my hands if needed. Any human would.

“I believe, my lord,” she leaned in, breath fanning across my cheek, “that this may be fate. A lover of fire and fiery love.”

Boldly, she sat astride my lap while her hands went straight to my belt.

One of the confident ones. Only one way to see if that confidence was misplaced.

I ran my hands along the curve of her hips, allowing her to pull at my clothes as she pleased. At first, she seemed undaunted. As her lips met mine, the hope I always stomped down flared against my will.

She moved against me feverishly and I pressed closer, the sweet scent of her perfume flooding my senses.

Perhaps, this time…

Yet as each layer between us disappeared, her expression faltered. Her skin grew wet with sweat. Her breathing grew heavy as she still tried to stay close, fighting her own pain.

Finally, she screamed, pushing away as the heat of my flesh grew beyond bearing.

She rolled on the tile floor as if she could escape the burning of her own skin.

My heart sank and I flicked a hand at the servants. She was dragged out like the first, still crying from the pain.

Putting my hands over my face, I lay still for a long moment.

“Alistair. The rest need not come in tonight.”

“…Very good, your majesty,” he returned, voice softer than I liked. Curse that man for his sympathies.

My head was pounding. And I could feel it under my skin, louder and stronger with each breath. The curse.

It was loosening my grip on reality already. I made for the window; a few stories’ fall wouldn’t hurt me.

Leaping out, I ran, knowing I had to find an isolated courtyard before the curse fully took hold.

My hands flexed with claws and I fought to keep them still. I wouldn’t rip at my own castle or my own flesh, no matter how much it pained me.

Even as my mouth bristled with bigger, sharper teeth, I moved forward. Each agonizing step left me panting for air. Fleetingly, I wondered if this burning pain was what the tributes had felt each time one burned before me—but the thought left before it could make an impact, pain driving it from my mind.

The servants, my steward—they didn’t deserve death simply for serving me.

All I could do was drag my feet forward, gripping the stone wall for dear life. I needed to be somewhere remote, open, alone. But I wasn’t sure if I was even moving away from the castle at this point.

I needed to stay in control. At least for now. Squeezing my eyes shut, I opened them again, determined to put distance between me and my castle.

I could do this.

Even through the pain, cold fear that I couldn’t contain stabbed all through my stomach.

Would I become a rampaging dragon for good this time? A mindless beast my brother didn’t recognize?

One my mother wouldn’t have claimed as her son, were she looking down on me after death?

I truly… I truly did not want that. I had to come back this time. I had before, for centuries now.

I simply must do it again.

The curse claimed me.