unannounced into my castle, vexing me in every possible way. But I did not hate him.
He and I had developed a strange sort of symbiosis, shared memories of a dragon boy we’d once known. I’d never admit it aloud, but his presence normally brought me some measure of peace.
Not today however.
“My queen, you know it is so. They lied. They all lied. Now ask yourself why.”
I shook my head, desperately trying to cling to the charade.
“Eight fawnlings. Did you know?” He asked it softly.
Feeling sick to the very core of me, I could hardly breathe now. Swallowing forcefully, I forced down the heat threatening to overwhelm me. The man did not have children. The man had been a thief; I’d done right. I’d done right...right?
I would never have condemned innocent children to the type of life I’d grown up in.
But my words smacked of a lie to me, and I clutched at my stomach as it heaved.
“Why would they lie to me? I am their queen.”
The shadowy image of the cat wavered before me as he said, “Why does anybody, my queen? Why does anybody?”
The ghostly echo of his words haunted me throughout the rest of the night.
Four days later my worst fears were confirmed when Sysapheus returned alone and, with head hanging, admitted to Astira’s conspiracy. She’d threatened to reveal their sins to one and all if the group hadn’t backed up her lies.
The truth, he’d said, was that she’d forced Alerid to write the note, she’d been the one to give Sysapheus the pearl, she’d been tired of her husband, and had used me to rid herself of him once and for all. But, being the duplicitous, conniving liar that she was, she’d managed to also use me to gain not only her pearl back, but Sysapheus’ prized Holstein as well.
When I’d asked him how he could have stood there and condemned an innocent to death, he’d shaken his head and whispered, “I regret it all. My crime will haunt me for the rest of my days.”
The next day I’d sent my guards out to snatch up the prevaricator, condemning her to death in the same manner I’d been forced to condemn her husband. She’d screamed at me, told me I would rot in Tartarus for the rest of eternity for what I did.
But her words didn’t bother me. No, it wasn’t her words that’d caused my eyes to gather with pools of heat when her head had rolled, but rather the eight children who were now alone in the world without the love of a father (a good man) to tend to them.
That day marked me, changed me forever. In a way I had not expected. I could not forget my part in what’d happened to him, and no matter how many people told me it was no longer a concern of mine, I felt keenly the depth of my depravity in a way I’d never felt it before.
Charles did as Charles always did, ignoring me as he lived a life of frivolity and ease, but I could not seem to move on from that day. Stuck in a cycle of guilt and shame, the worst of it was, I had no one to blame for this but myself.
Chapter 7
Ragoth
1 year later
I snatched at the shapely body of a hamadryad—a tree nymph with skin the color of bark and hair the green of budding leaves—who attempted to race past me. “Come here, wench!” I growled, laughing when I wrapped my arms around her naked waist and hauled her tight to my body and my jutting erection. She straddled my thighs.
The nymph sighed, wiggling on me happily. “Oh, dragonborne.”
Her titters irritated me, but I was drunk on dragon wine and in need of servicing. I’d found ways to get around the “you can only mate with nobility” ban. I simply never reciprocated any affection back.
I couldn’t kiss a commoner. Or stick my prick inside them. But they could do whatever they wanted to me, and there were ways of making a woman sing without actually doing the horizontal snog.
I was virile, handsome, and a prince. There was no end of women ready to throw themselves at me. Women—like this nymph—who enjoyed string-free sex. I had no intention of
He and I had developed a strange sort of symbiosis, shared memories of a dragon boy we’d once known. I’d never admit it aloud, but his presence normally brought me some measure of peace.
Not today however.
“My queen, you know it is so. They lied. They all lied. Now ask yourself why.”
I shook my head, desperately trying to cling to the charade.
“Eight fawnlings. Did you know?” He asked it softly.
Feeling sick to the very core of me, I could hardly breathe now. Swallowing forcefully, I forced down the heat threatening to overwhelm me. The man did not have children. The man had been a thief; I’d done right. I’d done right...right?
I would never have condemned innocent children to the type of life I’d grown up in.
But my words smacked of a lie to me, and I clutched at my stomach as it heaved.
“Why would they lie to me? I am their queen.”
The shadowy image of the cat wavered before me as he said, “Why does anybody, my queen? Why does anybody?”
The ghostly echo of his words haunted me throughout the rest of the night.
Four days later my worst fears were confirmed when Sysapheus returned alone and, with head hanging, admitted to Astira’s conspiracy. She’d threatened to reveal their sins to one and all if the group hadn’t backed up her lies.
The truth, he’d said, was that she’d forced Alerid to write the note, she’d been the one to give Sysapheus the pearl, she’d been tired of her husband, and had used me to rid herself of him once and for all. But, being the duplicitous, conniving liar that she was, she’d managed to also use me to gain not only her pearl back, but Sysapheus’ prized Holstein as well.
When I’d asked him how he could have stood there and condemned an innocent to death, he’d shaken his head and whispered, “I regret it all. My crime will haunt me for the rest of my days.”
The next day I’d sent my guards out to snatch up the prevaricator, condemning her to death in the same manner I’d been forced to condemn her husband. She’d screamed at me, told me I would rot in Tartarus for the rest of eternity for what I did.
But her words didn’t bother me. No, it wasn’t her words that’d caused my eyes to gather with pools of heat when her head had rolled, but rather the eight children who were now alone in the world without the love of a father (a good man) to tend to them.
That day marked me, changed me forever. In a way I had not expected. I could not forget my part in what’d happened to him, and no matter how many people told me it was no longer a concern of mine, I felt keenly the depth of my depravity in a way I’d never felt it before.
Charles did as Charles always did, ignoring me as he lived a life of frivolity and ease, but I could not seem to move on from that day. Stuck in a cycle of guilt and shame, the worst of it was, I had no one to blame for this but myself.
Chapter 7
Ragoth
1 year later
I snatched at the shapely body of a hamadryad—a tree nymph with skin the color of bark and hair the green of budding leaves—who attempted to race past me. “Come here, wench!” I growled, laughing when I wrapped my arms around her naked waist and hauled her tight to my body and my jutting erection. She straddled my thighs.
The nymph sighed, wiggling on me happily. “Oh, dragonborne.”
Her titters irritated me, but I was drunk on dragon wine and in need of servicing. I’d found ways to get around the “you can only mate with nobility” ban. I simply never reciprocated any affection back.
I couldn’t kiss a commoner. Or stick my prick inside them. But they could do whatever they wanted to me, and there were ways of making a woman sing without actually doing the horizontal snog.
I was virile, handsome, and a prince. There was no end of women ready to throw themselves at me. Women—like this nymph—who enjoyed string-free sex. I had no intention of
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