Chapter 6

CHAPTER 6

PHILIP

Taking the stairs two at a time, I race up to my turret. When Briar was still a child, this was where she would stay. If she was indeed with them, as the letters suggested, she’d be here. The few times we had any sort of in-depth conversation, she waxed poetic about being a princess locked away in a tower, just waiting for her prince charming, presumably me, to come rescue her.

At the time, I let her prattle on and her imagination soar. She was, after all, only eight years old. There would be time later to dispel her of such notions. Even then, I knew I wasn’t going to be some romantic lead in her fantasies.

We didn’t even know each other, much less form any sort of romantic attachment. The only thing I’ve ever felt toward her was an intense need to protect her. It's as if my heart and soul knew she belonged to me.

Not as a lover, but as a most prized possession. My possession. And now, even as my feet pound against the stone stairs, I can already feel a slight shift in the narrative. She’s still mine, but now I feel no need to protect her.

Her family did the unthinkable, and as my wife, my possession, I will claim her in every way possible. The only problem I face is that I still see her as that child. I cannot unleash my rage upon an innocent girl.

After sifting through the contents of the chest, I discovered everything—the plot to overthrow our kingdom, the fear and brainwashing of Briar, and the evil witch who orchestrated the whole thing. Now I know what strange plants grow around the castle. Dragon’s bane. They were never there before.

The only thing the chest did not contain is a likeness of Briar as she is now. Will I even recognize her? Will enough of the child remain and thwart my need for revenge? So many questions burn in my mind as I turn the last little bit and come to the door. Her door.

Breathing in deep, I inhale her scent, dragging it into my lungs. It’s changed, somehow, morphed into something that makes my stomach growl and my cock lengthen. Before, there was a childlike, carefree note; like sunshine and wheat waving in the fields.

It spoke of endless days of running around, dipping small feet into a brook, and catching small frogs and minnows. Granted, it’s not what’s acceptable for a princess, but that’s how it hit me. Now, however, it’s taken on a scent that’s wholly different.

The bit of sunshine is still there, but now, there’s a more mature scent of amber and darkness, musk and jasmine. It’s decadent, forbidden, with just a hint of innocence. It’s that innocence that calls to the beast inside, the dragon yearning to be free.

Fighting in the Holy Wars was the only thing that kept him at bay, kept him satisfied. Now that the fighting is over, he demands to be free, to consume the prize we’ve won with blood, sweat, and tears. Balling my hand into a fist, I pound on the door, letting her hear the ferocity of my wrath before I burst in.

Nothing.

Not a sound escapes from the confines. All I can hear is the muffled sounds of celebration as my soldiers reclaim the castle as our own. Soon, there will be wailing and roars of anger as they look through their houses to find their families raped and slaughtered, but for now, it’s a relief to win.

Again, I slam my fist against the door, giving her one more chance to open. In the back of my mind, I do worry she somehow succumbed to the spell, despite knowing Kendrick and my father would destroy every spinning wheel in our kingdoms to keep her safe. Did one manage to remain hidden until just the worst moment?

With my dragon lending me strength, I throw my shoulder into the door, shivering in delight as it splinters and gives way. Unfortunately, a quick glance shows she’s no longer here. All her trinkets and toys remain from when she was a child, but not her.

Striding over to the bed, I follow a new scent, ferreting it out. As I throw back the blankets, a sneer twists my lips. Dragon’s Bane. It’s infused into the sheets, sewn into the blankets, and tucked under the mattress. What utter nonsense is this?

I touch the plant but feel nothing. There’s no spark, no burn, and certainly no reaction to warrant staying away from this pitiful weed. It’s as if a tale was spun and everyone believed it. This plant is no more deadly to me than lettuce or cabbage. And it certainly doesn’t repel me.

All it does is make me angry.

As I put the blanket back, prepared to leave, a small book catches my eye. Briar’s scent is all over it, strong, as if she wrote in it just this very morning. I sit down on the bed and flip it open, noting her childlike scrawl. In the beginning, she spoke of dreams and wishes.

The poor thing was infatuated with me, even at her tender age. As she grew up, however, the narrative shifted. Adoration turned to despondency. Despondency turned to apathy. Apathy then shifted to anger.

Her last entry, dated about a week ago, speaks of rage and dismay. Hatred for me pours off the page as she realizes what I am. I can almost see the poison dripping from her fingers as she pens these thoughts.

She hates me.

My wife hates me.

It’s good that the feeling is mostly mutual. At least while still bound to this feeling of rage. She is at least partially to blame for all this death and carnage.

Tossing the diary onto the floor, I pace about, thinking through the corridors of the castle. Where could she be? They never left Briar behind. To do so would be immediate suspicion.

From what I understand from the letters and whisperings, she has to be here. For the king to allow these traitors access, they would have to give him reason to let them in. They were clearly planning a celebration for me… My heart stops as things click into focus. The flags and festoonery I saw. The tables laden with untouched food.

It’s one thing to know and another to be aware. My heart aches as I picture the staff and family making joyous preparations, only to be slaughtered. Tears burn my eyes, threatening to spill as rage once more bubbles up my spine.

Conniving, evil, treacherous.

They wormed their way in with well wishes from their lips and daggers behind their backs. And Briar was at the forefront, leading the death and destruction. Besides, her scent is far too potent to be from a time long past.

She was here at some point. Where the hell is she now? Did they send her away before the massacre? How much was she a part of the distraction? Did she wield a sword with the others?

It’s clear she holds no love for me. It wouldn’t shock me at all if she led the charge herself. Frustration drips down my spine, bunching my muscles as I walk over to a nearby window. What I need is a breath of fresh air not tainted by her scent.

However, the moment I duck my head outside, I see an odd growth in the middle of the forest. Thick vines and briars wind about, reaching to the sky. Never has there been such a place before.

Deep inside, my dragon roars, demanding we destroy and conquer. Briar is there, nestled among the thorns. He knows it. I know it. Something deep in my gut tells me it’s true. Climbing out onto a small walkway, I close my eyes and look deep within.

My dragon demands a sacrifice. He wants to maim, kill, and destroy. But I don’t dare let him. Not yet. Not until I know I can stop him and put him back inside where he belongs.

Making my way down to the courtyard, I tell my men nothing as I climb onto my horse and make my way toward the dark spot. I can feel the magic weaving around, twisting and turning everything until it’s decayed and ugly. The thorns creep into the forest with their small tendrils, but it’s enough to follow, enough to lead me to the source.

Soon a massive wall of prickles, thorns, and briars greets me. Even as I look upon it, it seems to grow. With each inhale, it expands, as if the vines themselves are breathing with me. My stallion throws his head back, his loud whinny echoing around the dead forest.

He rises onto his back legs, pawing the air in his distress. Try as I might, I cannot calm him down. Once I jump from his back, he leaps into action, darting away from me in haste. Not that I can blame him.

Anger tinges my vision, turning my gaze white-hot. Heat shimmers before me as the dragon rears its head. Closing my eyes, I suck in a deep breath and blow it out, picturing flames erupting from me.

Nothing comes out. Not even a whiff of smoke. Perhaps I just did it wrong.

With no one still alive to teach me how to harness my powers, I have to figure it all out on my own. The best I can do is reach down deep and rely on the dragon to have my best interest at heart.

Again, I dig deep, willing the flames to rise and burn down the barrier before me. This time, heat scorches my throat, burning hot as the air exits my lungs. It doesn’t hurt. Somehow, it almost feels comforting, as if my body was meant to do this all along.

A tiny bit of flame dances around my lips, drawing a bubbling laugh echoing into the warm air. However, there is no humor in it—only the sound of retribution. Again, I pull air into me and blast it forth.

Fire crackles through the breeze, burning the vines in front of me. They drop to the forest floor in ash and soot, melting away before my wrath. With a mighty yell, I hack into the thick, woody thorns with my sword, forcing my way past this barrier.

Between my breath and my blade, I make headway, but it’s still not enough. It’s as if three new vines sprout out with every branch I fell in my wake. At this rate, I’ll exhaust myself before I even reach the center.

As much as I’ve been reluctant to do so, I have to let the dragon out. Only he can force his way to the center where we know our bride awaits. The air shimmers around me, turning molten as my body shakes.

Thankfully, none of my men are close enough to see me like this. If they were, they’d try to kill me. Not that I would hold any of them in contempt. But it hurts to know just how truly alone I really am.

Tipping my head up to the sky, I whisper my regrets as my skin bubbles and stretches, giving way to scales. Bones snap and crack, the sounds ominous and frightening. Pain splinters my brain, driving me to my knees.

Never in my life have I felt such agony. My limbs extend, twisting and turning until talons protrude where my nails once were. From my back, a searing heat is the only warning I have before wings slice through my flesh and fan out behind me.

Everything aches and hurts, driving my mind mad as the dragon takes a firmer hold on my psyche. Soon, I no longer exist. It is now both the dragon and I in coexistence. It’s as if I am now reborn, refashioned, and recreated into what I am meant to be.

As much as it hurts to undergo the transformation, being in this form feels freeing. No longer do I have to care about the thoughts of others. They are nothing to me. Mortals at the feet of a vicious god.

No. I cannot think that way. It’s not me. It’s the dragon. I still care about my friends and comrades in arms, but the dragon would rather rid the world of any threat. Shaking my head inside this beast, I force my mind to take in everything, grounding us to the earth.

Stretching out my arm, I note the thick scales. They’re gold with a tinge of red coating it. Granted, I can’t tell if that’s just the color of my scales or if it’s blood from where they eroded through my skin. Either way, it’s far lovelier than I could have imagined.

It feels regal. Fit for a king. The Dragon King.

I shake out my shoulders, reveling in the feeling of being able to fully stretch for the first time. Until now, I didn’t know just how cramped I felt contained in this body. It’s addictive.

Now I know why Master Balcom fought so hard. It was the only thing to keep these urges at bay. Even now, I feel the bloodlust swirling through me, far greater than it ever had before. I want to destroy, to tear the world apart, to get what I want.

And what I want, what the beast wants, is Briar.

Fire drips from my lips, blazing into the thick forest. Limbs turn to white ash and fall to the earth like cursed snowfall. Now, with the dragon in charge, the magical barrier doesn’t stand a chance.

The limbs simply can’t keep up. With each fiery breath, another foot disappears, allowing me to gain access. Though they might pop back up for another inch or so, the dragon demolishes them far faster than they can regenerate.

Over and over we battle the dark magic until all that remains is a door. Briar is behind there. We can smell her, sense her, and fairly taste her in the air. As much as I want to shift back into my human form to go claim my bride, the dragon refuses.

Danger still lurks around us. We just can’t see it yet.