All Chapters of The Tattooed Queen: Claimed By The Mad King: Chapter 121 - Chapter 130

❤️ A Queen's Wardrobe ❤️Draevon carried Kaelithra through the halls of the palace, her body limp and warm against his chest. Her head rested heavily near his neck, her dark hair spilling over his arm. The wild, spitting fury that had been burning in her eyes just moments ago had completely burned out, replaced by the deep, heavy stillness of sleep.Her weight was nothing to him, but every cut she had raked across his skin stung under his torn shirt. He ignored the blood slowly drying against his ribs and kept his stride steady.He reached his chamber and shoved the oak door open with his shoulder and he crossed the room, stepped up to the massive bed, and laid her down as gently as he could.He pulled the thick fur blanket up over her chest, tucking it carefully around her shoulders. His hand lingered for a second, his knuckles barely brushing her pale cheek.She stirred slightly, a low murmur slipping past her lips as she shifted against the pillows, but she did not open her eyes.D

❤️ The Hidden Ally ❤️IronBlood Kingdom:​Malgron's Chamber:​The night was cold and dark, and the sky held not a single star. Malgron stood by the heavy stone window of his chamber, his long green hair falling loose around his broad shoulders. His dark eyes remained fixed on the distant horizon, unblinking and heavy with thought. Behind him, the logs in the hearth had burned down to a pile of glowing red embers. The room was completely silent, save for the soft, dying crackle of the wood.​He had been standing there for hours without moving a muscle. Thinking, planning and scheming.​Every single path he tried to map out led to more frustration. Kaelithra was still out there, stuck in the hands of that mad king, and the dark siren had given him no real answers, only more frustrating questions.​He could not wait any longer. He could not rely on anyone else to fix this mess. If anything was going to get done, he had to take matters into his own hands.​He turned away from the window,

❤️ The Enemy of My Enemy ❤️"Hmm, you don't have to keep reminding me that you are weak, Malgron," Cedric said, his voice flat and dismissive. He turned his back, walking over to the heavy oak table to pick up another pitcher. He poured himself a fresh drink, the thick liquid splashing against the sides of his clean goblet. "I already know that. I have always known that. You really do not need to keep saying it out loud."Malgron's jaw tightened until his teeth groaned. His hands curled into tight fists at his sides, fingernails biting hard into his palms. His green eyes flashed with sudden anger, hot and sharp, like venom running through his blood. Even though he had just used his own mouth to say he was weak, even though he had carefully played the part of a broken, desperate father, he hated hearing it back. He hated the way Cedric's words cut right through him, reducing him to nothing in a split second.He was a king. A broad-shouldered, blood-stained ruler. He had led the IronBlo

❤️ The Devil’s Plan ❤️Continuation From The Last Episode:​After that fierce battle on the slopes, something shifted between Malgron and Cedric. The blood spilled on the cold grey moss of the Dark Mountain had forged a strange bond between them. It was not a friendship. It could never be a true friendship between two men like them. But it was a silent, grudging respect. Each of them knew the other had something he desperately needed.​Cedric had reached down and hauled Malgron up off the ground. His amber eyes were still cold, but the burning rage was gone. The deep cuts on his arm were already closing up, his skin knitting back together until the blood dried up and left no mark behind.​"You are stronger than I expected," Cedric had admitted, his voice flat and calm. "Most werewolves would have died after that first fire blast. But you stayed on your feet. You kept coming at me. That shows grit. Something I have not seen in a very long time."​Malgron wiped the dark blood from his m

❤️ The Weapon He Lost ❤️Yes, he could not bring himself to ask Cedric why he could not leave the Dark Mountain. The question had burned on his tongue a thousand times over the years, but something always held him back. Fear, perhaps. Or basic survival instinct. Or the simple knowledge that some doors, once opened, could never be slammed shut again. There was something about the way Cedric's amber eyes flickered whenever the topic of the mountain came up, something guarded, cold, and ancient that made the fur on Malgron's arms stand straight up.​But one day, he would ask. One day, when the timing was right, when their plan was finally finished, when Draevon was dead in the dirt and the world was theirs to rule, he would demand a real answer. He would force Cedric to tell him the whole truth about this cursed place, about his dark past, and about why he stayed locked up in this grey, lifeless landscape when the entire world outside was sitting there waiting for him.​For now, he kept