16

I barely feel the touch of male hands at my waist, at my back. I'm dancing with men I've known most of my life—elder dukes, middle-aged counts, young lords. There are some notable absences—some of my mother's closest allies, who were probably executed unless they managed to flee the kingdom.

As I'm passed from man to man, I acknowledge distantly that they're being respectful, for the most part. No one has grabbed my breasts or my ass, or murmured lewd comments in my ear. The few kisses I've been given, through the aperture of the mask, were brief and polite. But the evening is young, and despite the outward deference the nobles have shown me, I know they're bidding on my body. Even now, as I dance with Lord Natley, I see Count Meddows in close conversation with Rahzien. After a moment, they both nod, and the Count heads for the clerks' table to make his pledge.

The Count is old enough to be my father—perhaps even my grandfather. I've known him since I was child—he and his family used to come to the palace on feast days. And yet there he is, bidding on me as if I'm livestock .

After signing a document at the clerks' table, he approaches Lord Natley and requests a dance. Lord Natley kisses me lightly on the mouth, then dances away with one of the escorts Rahzien hired.

"Count Meddows," I say stiffly.

"My dear." He lays a palm against my waist. "Forgive me, I've done my best."

"What do you mean?"

"I've wagered all I can. But I had to reserve a little to protect my household. Let us hope that it is enough for me to win you."

Anger rouses me from my lethargy for a moment. "What would your wife say to this?"

He looks confused, then says in a low, urgent tone, "Oh, I wouldn't have you in that way! No, no, my aim is to win the key so I can spare you from pain and humiliation, Princess. We could simply have a conversation in the room, and then I would leave."

"Oh, you sweet man," I gasp, relief turning me weak. "I was disappointed in you for a moment there."

He chuckles, but it's a taut, pained sound. "It's been a terrible time, Highness, but I should hope most of us haven't sunk that far. And if we have, we shall rise together." He says the last four words so quietly I can barely hear them beneath the lilting music.

He waits, as if he expects some response from me, but I only nod vaguely, unsure what he wants me to say.

"Kiss her or get off the pot, old man," says a caustic voice behind me. "Let us younger folks have a turn."

I close my eyes, clinging a little tighter to Count Meddows' hands. I know that voice. Zevin Harlowe.

As the Count and I spin through the next part of the dance, I see Zevin, clothed in velvet up to his chin to hide his scars. He's wearing a blond wig in a style that sweeps down over the scarred side of his face .

On either side of him are two other young lords. I recall their faces, dimly, but I don't know their names.

"The Count's dance isn't over yet," I say. "You'll have to wait."

"Oh, I've waited for you long enough." Zevin's pale eyes hold so much venomous anger that my blood chills. "I've wagered everything on tonight, you hear me? Everything. My dear old parents couldn't take much with them when they left, so I've got plenty to spend. You'll be mine."

Shit… he's probably right. In addition to their townhouse in the Capital and their mansion in the woods nearby, the Harlowes had bountiful farms in the west, as well as several vineyards. Zevin is reckless, impulsive, so when he says he bid everything for me, I have no doubt he means it.

Count Meddows' face falls. He too knows the value of the Harlowes' holdings. "Princess, I'm sorry."

Tears prickle in my eyes. "You tried," I whisper.

He bends closer. "I have only a few guards left, and they didn't accompany me tonight. And none of us were allowed to bring weapons into the city, or I would make a stand, I'd defend you myself…"

He's offering to fight for me. But he'd be slaughtered in a second.

"Enough citizens of this kingdom have died because of my family," I say hoarsely. "Don't add your blood to theirs. I'm not worth it."

"You are," he says. The song has ended, and I'm holding his hands—he's clinging to mine. "But I have others to protect. I'm sorry."

"Be at peace," I tell him, and then he's backing away, grief on his weathered face.

Zevin catches my wrist and jerks me around to face him, while his friends close in from either side. One of them tilts his pelvis forward, pushing against my hip so I can feel his erect cock through his pants.

Zevin cups both my breasts and squeezes so hard I gasp with pain.

"Not going to fight back?" he sneers. "I admit I had my doubts that His Majesty could tame you, but it seems he's done a thorough job of it. Look at this, boys." Zevin runs his hand between my legs, over the protective silver filigree. "A pretty cage for the royal pussy. We should see if we can smell her cunt through this thing. But I want my kiss first."

He clutches a handful of my hair, jerks my head back, and crushes his mouth to mine. It's a hard kiss, designed to hurt. I keep my teeth clenched despite the wet thrusting of his tongue against the seam of my mouth.

"Fuck you, Serylla—let me in." He pinches my nose shut and slams his mouth on mine again, waiting for me to run out of breath and open for him.

I try to pull away, but his friends grip my arms and shoulders, holding me in place.

Suddenly Zevin is yanked back by a tall figure with a swirling sheet of long black hair. The newcomer flings him several feet away, so violently that his flying body knocks down two other guests. The crowd gasps. The music falters, then fades.

The stranger's back is to me. All I can see is glossy black hair cascading over broad shoulders, and a powerful back that tapers down to a narrow waist and long legs.

"What's all this?" Rahzien looks up from his discussion with two of the nobles.

"He assaulted me!" screeches Zevin, pointing a shaking finger at the stranger as he picks himself up off the floor.

"Begging your pardon, sir—my lords." A pale red-haired man with a walking stick comes forward, bowing apologetically, first to Zevin and then to the room in general. "In our country of Zairos, publicly groping a royal concubine in that way would not be tolerated. Prince Gildas was simply defending the honor of your Royal Majesty and your Conquered Consort. No slight was intended."

Prince Gildas of Zairos? My mother considered marrying me off to one of those seven brothers, but then she and the King had some sort of falling out, and the deal fell through. Zairos is one of the countries I'd planned to approach once I left Kyreagan, to see if they'd be willing to help me reclaim my kingdom. But a royal's presence here means that the King of Zairos has validated Rahzien's claim to the Elekstan throne. And with that knowledge, I sink a little deeper into despair.

Rahzien's rolling laugh eases the tension in the room. "How honorable of you, Prince Gildas. I promised every man a dance and a kiss, so perhaps we should leave the rest of the Consort's charms to be enjoyed by the winner of our little game, eh, Lord Harlowe? Surely you can wait a bit longer." He winks at Zevin. "If you crave a woman so desperately, feel free to grope any of the other beauties as forcefully as you like. They are here to be used."

My gaze travels to one of the dancers standing near the King. Her brilliant smile never falters, and her eyes remain bright, but there's a rigidity to her stance for a second—a brittle hardness. The next second she's all sinuous curves as she slinks up to Zevin. He swats her away, his vicious gaze trained on me.

Rahzien turns his attention back to the tall, black-haired stranger. "As for you, Prince Gildas, while I respect your zeal for the honor of my court, I will not tolerate such violence. Enjoy your dance with the Princess, and then perhaps you should take your rest, in preparation for our conversations tomorrow. I am willing to make allowances for your weariness and your head injury—but only this once. Assault any of my people again, and you will pay for it… or your father will."

A beat of anxious silence. Then the King's face, which darkened grimly over the last few words, melts into one of his broad, disarming grins, and the guests chuckle with nervous relief.

"More wine!" calls Rahzien. "More music, more dancing!"

Zevin's friends hustle him off to the side of the room and ply him with wine, while the music starts up afresh and couples begin to whirl across the dance floor again.

Mouth dry, hands clenched, I wait for the stranger to face me and claim his dance. I liked how he threw Zevin across the room, but if he's a violent, angry person, that doesn't bode well for me.

He turns around.

And my world comes alive.

My chest thrills as I stare at him, trying to comprehend what I'm seeing. The handsome tanned features, the dark eyes, the crisp jaw, the straight, elegant nose…

It's Kyreagan.

He's right here. Right in front of me, dressed like a human, with no claws or horns to indicate otherwise.

Kyreagan is here.

Kyreagan came to save me. He isn't dead.

Thank the Maker, thank the Bone-Builder, thank whatever the fuck. Thank you, thank you .

He's alive. I want to cry and shriek and laugh and dance in circles and kiss his beautiful somber face until it softens into a smile just for me.

Kyreagan, Kyreagan, Kyreagan.

He's here. He cares . He looked for me, and he found me.

Fortunix didn't tell the King that dragons can take human form, so Rahzien has no idea that the man standing in front of me is the dragon prince. It's an effective disguise, but a fragile one that will dissolve if Kyreagan makes one mistake.

Shit, he's in so much danger.

"Shall we… dance?" His voice is strained, and his eyes scorch mine, fervent with pain and anger and need and joy .

"We shall." The two words are barely a breath. I can't say anything else or I'll cry, and I can't do that, because we're being watched. I need to stay calm and pretend he's a stranger.

Trembling, I touch him. I guide his hands to my shoulder and waist. A tight sigh of desperate relief bursts from his lips as his fingers settle on my body. Like he couldn't truly rest until he touched me again. I want to scream that I feel the same way. That I've been outside my skin, floating in some dreadful, dark place, and the heat of his palms is bringing me back. Securing me whole within myself.

I take the lead in the dance, because I have strength now. I think I would have found my courage on my own, eventually, but it's so much easier with him here. Why did I ever think I could leave him? We were broken when we came into each other's lives, so we fit our jagged edges together and healed as a new whole. The bones we share now are thicker and stronger than ever, and our scars match. Tearing us apart ruins us both.

As we dance, the crowd softens and blurs until there's only the music, swelling and sinking, swirling and soaring. Kyreagan stumbles a bit at first, but then he gives himself to the melody and to me, and we flow, like wings on the wind, like notes on a page.

They're watching us. I think I've kept my face stoic enough, and Kyreagan has, too, but our eyes—maybe our eyes have betrayed us. Maybe the bond knotted from his heart to mine is pulsing visibly in the air. Maybe the magnetic compulsion between us is tangible, tugging at everyone else like the inexorable currents of a whirlpool.

The music has stopped, so I bring us to a sudden halt, too. Everything I want to say piles onto my tongue—I can't speak any of it in this room. He's here, and yet we're still trapped.

He cups the side of my neck, and I shiver with delight at the heat of his strong fingers. "Is it true?" he whispers, his lips barely moving. "If we go now— "

I give him the tiniest nod. "I'll die."

Agony fills his eyes. "Then this is good night." He raises his voice to normal speaking volume. "I'll claim my kiss and retire to my room."

He leans in, heat pouring off him in angry waves. I can feel his entire body quaking with the effort of holding himself back. He touches his lips to mine and whispers, "Say the word and they all burn."

"Kill him, and you kill me," I breathe against his mouth. He growls low in his chest, a feral sound, and a fresh wave of heat surges from his body. Alarmed, I clutch the back of his neck to keep him close. "Promise you won't turn. You'll control yourself. Promise me."

A throat clears nearby, and a high male voice says, "Excuse me, Prince Gildas, I believe you've had more than your fair share of the Princess's time. I would like a turn."

For a second I'm sure all is lost, that Kyreagan will transform and incinerate half the room. Which would doubtless end with him being shot full of bullets and dying at my feet.

The vision terrifies me, and I hiss out, "Obey me," without really thinking.

Kyreagan straightens. His burning gaze never leaves mine. "Yes, Your Majesty."

He steps back, and another lord takes his place. As I dance with my new partner, as he whirls me around and around, I look for Kyreagan, tracing his retreat to the doors, his exit from the ballroom.

No, no, no. Come back …

But he can't. He needs to get away, before he does something stupid.

Did Rahzien notice anything between us? I glance at him, but he's immersed in a deep discussion with a cluster of nobles.

So far, so good .

Over the next hour I endure the attentions of more guests, parrying the awkward attempts at conversation by men who know me, and yet are bidding for the chance to fuck me. I whirl round and round in their arms, I submit to their kisses, and I wait for Rahzien to decide my fate.

The King alternates between conversations and dances until finally, with one of the dancers clinging to his arm, he moves to the clerks' table and pores over the sheets of paper for what seems like an age.

At last, apparently satisfied, he strides to the head of the room and mounts the first two tiers of the platform, signaling for the music to stop.

"My lords, thank you for joining me this evening. I am pleased by your enthusiasm, your generosity, and the high value you place upon my Conquered Consort. My servants will take her to her royal bedchamber, and one lucky man will join her there." He takes the chain with the key from around his neck and dangles it before the eyes of the men. "That generous, loyal, exceptional man… is Lord Zevin Harlowe."

Zevin roars his victory and leaps forward to claim his prize. Still grinning broadly, Rahzien grips his forearm as if to congratulate him—but he pulls Zevin close and leans down, speaking close to the young lord's ear with an expression so intense that I frown. What could the King be saying? Whatever it is, the words drain the triumphant color from Zevin's face.

The King lets him go, resuming the same effusive grin, and calls for celebratory drinks and a final dance while I'm ushered out of the ballroom by two guards and taken upstairs. Neither of them are wearing helmets, and none of the guards in the ballroom were either. Perhaps the omission was meant to humanize them, to put the Elekstan nobles at ease.

The corridor leading to my suite is empty, which doesn't surprise me; I know from long experience that most of the servants will be busy with the party, and the rest are probably in the servants' kitchen or common room. The ground floor of the palace was teeming with guards, and several were stationed near the main staircase, but since all the valuables have been removed from this part of the palace, there's no reason to place extra guards here. Undoubtedly Rahzien is living in my mother's rooms, which are on the opposite end of the palace, as far from me as she could get.

The absence of guards seems to trouble one of my escorts. "Is two of us enough to guard her chamber?" he asks his companion.

"Lord Harlowe will be coming up soon," replies the second guard. "He'll have his own men to keep watch."

"I suppose."

We're nearly to the main entrance of my suite when a figure rounds the corner at the far end of the hall. He's short, with wavy red hair, a pretty face, and a scar through the right side of his mouth. I recognize him as the man who intervened after Kyreagan's fight with Zevin. He's leaning heavily on a gilded walking stick, limping and wincing as he approaches us.

"Finally, someone to help me!" he exclaims, with a huge sigh of relief.

"What are you doing up here?" demands one of my guards.

"I think someone played a terrible trick on me. You see, I was supposed to meet a very lovely dancer for a little tryst, and I do believe she gave me false directions. It's terribly hurtful to be treated this way, and I'm so fucking tired… please, can you help me?"

"We have our orders," replies the guard. "You'll have to find someone else to assist you."

"At least give me directions." The red-haired man limps closer—he's just a few paces away. "I have no idea where the stairs are."

"You'll head down this hall—" The first guard turns, pointing back the way we came, and at that moment, the red- haired man's stance changes dramatically. The weariness drops from his body and the exasperation vanishes from his face. He swings the bulbous head of his walking stick and strikes the skull of my second guard with a vicious thunk . As the first guard turns back around, he takes the blunt force of the walking stick right in his face. Bone crunches, and he falls backward like a felled tree, his nose and cheekbones crushed into his face. Dead.

The red-haired man sets the butt of his staff to the throat of the other guard, the unconscious one. Then he takes a deep breath and bears down until there's a dull crack.

"Right, then." The stranger steps back and leans against the wall, breathing hard. "God, murder takes the shit out of me. Now I remember why I don't kill people more often. Give me just a moment."

Stunned, I watch while he inhales a few deep breaths. I consider fleeing, because I doubt he could catch me when he's in this state, but I don't think it's wise to underestimate him like the dead guards did. Besides, I'm curious, and the only way to get answers is to wait.

Once his breathing slows a bit, he whistles softly out of the scarred side of his mouth. Three black-clad people hurry around the corner, pick up the dead guards, and carry them away.

"Where are they taking those men?" I ask. "Who are you?"

"Trust me, love, we know how to dispose of bodies so they won't be found." He lifts the flap of his brocade jacket and uses the lining to polish a few dots of blood from the head of his staff. "And to answer your second question, we're friends. Well, not exactly friends , perhaps, but thereabouts. We got no love for Vohrain, anyway."

"You were with the Prince of Zairos. Earlier."

The man smirks. "Kyreagan. Yes."

Hearing Kyreagan's name in his mouth sends a jolt of delighted panic through my chest .

"Then you know about him?" I lower my voice. "What he is?"

"Fuck, love, who do you think taught him how to behave decently while in a palace? He was plain feral when I found him, wasn't he? And now look at him. Acting like a true gentleman."

"Where is he?" I step forward, my heart beating frantically. "I need to see him. There are things he should know—"

"Easy, Princess. I'm here to take you to him."

I take an eager step forward, and then I recall that Parma's life is on the line if I don't obey the King tonight. "If I'm not in that bedroom when Lord Harlowe arrives, the King will kill my maid, Parma. She's more than a maid—she's a friend. I have to be docile, he said, or she dies."

The red-haired man tilts his head, eyeing me soberly. "You were going to sacrifice your body for her life."

"Yes, and that's why I can't go with you. Harlowe will be here any minute." I wince, tapping the cage around my hips. "He has the key to this."

"Does he now?" The stranger purses his lips. "What's this then?"

With a flourish and a twinkle of silver, he produces the very same key Rahzien used to lock my belt and my mask.

I gasp. "How did you—"

"Magic. Not the spellcasting kind, but some might say this sort of magic is better." With a twirl of his hand, the key vanishes, then reappears again. "Lord Harlowe will be hunting for this key for quite some time, wondering where he dropped it. And I've arranged for him to be plied with strong drinks during his search—drinks with a little special powder in them—so eventually he will simply topple over. He'll be put in his carriage by an ally of mine, and when he wakes up, he won't remember a thing about what he did or didn't do tonight. So you can come with me, love, and rest assured that your maid will be in no danger. But we should go quickly. "

I don't hesitate for another moment. True, I just saw this man murder two Vohrainians right in front of me, so I should probably be scared of him—but he's allied with Kyreagan, and right now that's enough.

We hurry along the next hall, and then the man pushes open a door to one of the standby rooms, where the maid on night duty could remain close by in case I needed her. It's a simple chamber, plainly furnished with a bed and a dresser. There's a small privy closet at the back.

In the center of the room stand two men. I don't even care about the other man—I leap for Kyreagan, throwing my arms around his neck, gripping him with all the force in my body.

"You," I sob out, kissing his cheek, his mouth, anywhere I can reach. "You came after me."

His fingers tangle in my hair as he tilts my face back to look at me. "Fuck yes, I did," he says fiercely. "When I found out Fortunix took you, I had no choice. How could I live, knowing you were in pain, knowing what Rahzien would do…" His gaze darkens. "Did he breed you by force?"

"No." I shake my head, but I can't repress the shudder that travels my skin. "It was almost… worse."

"Worse how?"

"I'll tell you sometime. I can't now." I hunch my shoulders against the echo of Rahzien's voice in my mind. "He told me you were dead. He said the same sorcerer who designed the poison that keeps me from running away created another kind of poison, too. They gave it to the flocks and herds on the Middenwold Isles—contaminated them, somehow. The poison is activated by dragon saliva, and he said every dragon who eats prey from the Isles will die."

"That can't be true." Kyreagan pulls back, his handsome face stricken with horror.

"I didn't believe him at first. But then I tried to escape, and I got so sick, Ky. I nearly died. If he was right about the poison inside my body, could he be right about the other poison, too? When you left the clan, were they safe and healthy? Had they eaten any prey from the Middenwold?"

The man behind him says, "Oh shit," in a faint, terrified voice. He's tall and gorgeous like Kyreagan, but with broader, softer features, brown skin, and long coppery locs.

"This is Hinarax," says Kyreagan. "He and I left Ouroskelle four or five hours after you were taken. When we departed, no hunting parties had yet gone to the Middenwold Isles. By now they must have hunted there, and eaten the prey…"

"We have to find out. We need to know," Hinarax interrupts, his voice breaking.

"Go," Kyreagan tells him. "Find the tallest tower of this palace and take off from there. It's dark—perhaps no one will see you. Either way, we must know what has happened."

"Wait." The red-haired man has been waiting by the closed door of the room, with his left ear pressed to the wood, listening for footsteps. But he comes forward now, his brows bent, his scarred lips pinched with worry. One of his eyes appears to be made of glass, but the other holds tumultuous emotion as he looks at Hinarax. "You'll come back? Because if I fucked a dragon that well, only to never see him again, it would be—"

"Tragic?" I offer.

He gives me a twisted, pained smile. "Exactly. The Princess understands."

"All too well," I murmur.

"I'll return when I can," says Hinarax. "In the meantime, Meridian—take care of my prince and his life-mate."

I look at Kyreagan, my eyebrows raised, and I silently form the word, Life-mate?

He glances away without replying. "Fly swiftly, brother."

"I will."

"I'll help you find your way to a tower," says Meridian. "Otherwise you'll be wandering the palace until morning. You two, wait here until I come back. Be good, and for fuck's sake, be quiet ." He winks at Kyreagan and flips the silver key through the air. It lands perfectly centered on the feather pillow at the top of the bed.

With the other two gone, Kyreagan and I stare at each other. The uncertain fate of his clan hangs between us, an awkward weight in the air.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, taking his hand. "I wish I didn't have to tell you that, but I thought you'd want to know. You can leave if you need to. Go with them, find out if the clan is alright."

Pain flickers through his eyes. "If they aren't, there's nothing I can do to save them. But I have to believe they're alive. My clan is strong. If there's a way to survive, they'll find it. What concerns me more is the existence of this poisoner. Do you have any idea who it could be?"

I shake my head. "I haven't come into contact with many people. Rahzien has been keeping me isolated, moving me around. I rarely sleep in the same room twice. And I'm lucky to even have a bed. The first couple of days I spent in his power were torture. He keeps telling me things—making me say terrible things about myself…" I press a hand to my forehead. "Sometimes I believe him."

Kyreagan's gaze softens, and he takes my waist, pulling me closer. "You mean the things he had you repeat in the market, before you were flogged. Trust me, Serylla, they're not true."

"You were there?" I look up at him, startled. "Then the growl I heard—it really was you."

"Forgive me for leaving you there," he says earnestly. "I would have snatched you away, but after what he said about the two of you being linked, I didn't want to risk killing you while trying to save you. I want to get you out of this without causing any more harm to the people of Elekstan. They have suffered enough of my fire and destruction. But Vohrain—" his expression turns malevolent— "they will have to pay for this. And I think I will make one exception to my rule, and destroy that Elekstan lord who groped you tonight. I'll burn off both his hands."

"He is already scarred by dragon fire, body and mind," I say. "Though I think the damage to his soul started long ago, at the hands of his family. Speaking of family, did you leave our eggs by themselves?"

"Of course not! I left them in the care of Rothkuri and Everelle."

"The blue dragon and his girl?"

"Yes."

"Oh, that's good. I like them. What about your brother, and the others—are they—oh fuck—I was going to ask if they're alright, but we can't be sure."

"When I left, everyone was in decent health, except for one dragon and two women who drowned when their cave flooded. The rest were hungry, but alive. And there were eggs, Serylla. Eleven of them, with more on the way. Even if something happened to the rest of the clan, perhaps Hinarax and I can care for the eggs, and the hatchlings. Our species won't be entirely extinguished."

"It won't be just you and Hinarax." Tears pool in my eyes, and I can't stop my lips from trembling. "I'll be there to help."

Kyreagan tenses, his chest rising and falling with quick, harsh breaths. "You will?"

I nod, pinching my lips together. Two tears escape my eyes and trail down my cheeks. His hold on my waist tightens, and I sense the great power of him, the strength of this body and the raw, feral fire of his soul.

"I should have realized it sooner," I whisper. "Being here, enduring this… it made me realize what I want, what's important to me. And that's you, and those two beautiful fucking eggs we made together. Strange as it sounds, that's my family. I want to fr ee my people from Vohrain if we can, if there's a way… but after that, all I want is you. And if it comes down to Elekstan or our family… I'm going to be selfish, and turn my back on everything else, and choose you."

Wait… he doesn't look happy. He looks conflicted. Oh fuck… did I read him wrong? Maybe all he needed was a carrier for his eggs and now he's done with me. Maybe he only came to save me out of a sense of responsibility or guilt, not because he loves me. Maybe I've been a fool.

"If you don't want me, just say so," I bite out.

"It's not that." He lets me go, turns away. "It's all of this. Everything in your society, the comforts you're used to having. I understand it more now, and I can see how living with me would be a miserable kind of deprivation."

"Oh god, is that all?" I release a soft laugh of relief. "I won't lie, I might appreciate a few extra comforts. We can talk about that after we get out of this mess. But I won't ask you to change your whole culture or way of life for me. We can compromise."

"Compromise." He mouths the word as if he doesn't quite like the taste of it.

"Yes, dragon. It's what people in relationships do… I think. I've witnessed a few functional ones, here and there."

"Perhaps we could arrange for water pipes and toilets somewhere on Ouroskelle," he says.

I blink. "Well, that's a huge concession to comfort, and I won't say no, but it would be a complex undertaking. One thing at a time. Speaking of toilets… I have been locked into this thing for hours, and I need to pee."

Stepping past him, I pluck the little silver key from the pillow and poke it at the keyhole, but from my angle, it's hard to see what I'm doing. The keyhole is inset between swirls of silver filigree. "Can you do it? "

Kyreagan takes the key and kneels in front of me. His black brows pull together as he peers at the hole. I can't resist sliding my fingers through the glossy ink of his hair while he wrestles with the key and finally manages to unlock the belt. With a sigh of relief I unlatch it, lower it down my legs, and step out. When I return from the privy, Kyreagan is inspecting the craftsmanship.

"It's a cruel device, but beautifully made," he says. "Let me remove the mask as well."

I stand still while he slips the key into a crevice of the mask and turns it with a soft click. With the flip of a latch, the mask opens, and he lifts it away from my face.

"There you are," he murmurs.

My breath turns light and quick, and my stomach flutters under the warm gaze of those dark eyes. Gently I trace my fingertips up his arm. "Kyreagan," I whisper. "How much time do you have left in human form?"

"Not long," he admits. "I'll need to be back in my room soon. There's enough space in there for me to exist in dragon form if I'm very still and I remain curled up in the same position. It will be unpleasant, but I can endure it. What's harder to endure is the knowledge that while I'm in that form, I'm useless. I can't look for the poisoner, or protect you from Rahzien."

"I can handle Rahzien, now that I know you're alive," I tell him. But the thought of being in the King's presence again makes my skin crawl, chills my very bones with a cringing sense of vulnerability. I don't want to have to face the King, to recite my "lessons," to be whipped in front of my people if any of them have dared to defy their conquerors. Any of that could happen tomorrow. Or Rahzien could decide to force himself on me. The idea of him thrusting into my body makes me want to vomit. I shudder, remembering the mouths on mine during the ball tonight, remembering the press of men's hands and the squeeze of their fingers. The dull, animal hunger in their eyes .

"I need you to do something for me before you change, Kyreagan." I look up at him desperately. "I know it's terrible to want this when we're in here, surrounded by enemies, when the fate of your clan is uncertain, but—"

He bends his beautiful face to mine, glides his silken lips against my cheek, and murmurs, in the deep voice I love, "You want me to fuck you."

"Yes," I breathe. "Please. As hard as you can. But we have to be quiet."

"I like making you loud."

A laugh wells up in my heart. "I know. But for now, we'll both have to be quick and quiet."

"Very well."

"One more thing," I say softly. "Just so we're both very clear on this point. You love me. And I love you back."

He wraps both arms around me, lifting me right off my feet as he carries me, not to the bed, but to the wall. He pins me there with his body, his hands bracketing my wrists. I'm engulfed by his heat, his scent, his strength—I'm breathless, helpless, and safe.

There's a soft, wicked glow in his eyes as he looks at me, an encompassing gaze as if he's memorizing my face. "From this day on, your only title is ‘Queen,' and I am your captive. My place is wherever you are. My will, my future, and my body are yours."