I fall perfectly still at the sight of those fiery eyes aimed at me.
“I said—” A pause is needed to wet my throat. “I said Minister Abely spent his time in the tavern.”
The king’s mouth works as if suppressing the urge to bare his teeth. “And how much time was spent teaching you?”
Sweat prickles along the back of my neck. I can’t tell if I should be striving to save myself or Abely. “I saw him the day he arrived. Perhaps once or twice more.”
The king’s gaze snaps once more to the necklace then back to my face. “And what knowledge did our honorable minister impart?”
My harried mind draws a blank. Surely, the man taught me something. I bite my lip, a nervous habit my mother had worked long to scold out of me. I look to my cat friend, who only busies himself with licking his backside.
“He let me know not to call you by your given name, Your Majesty,” I say.
An eye twitch follows this admission. “What else?”
I’m forced to shake my head.
His jaw tightens. “Then you did not know…”
Whatever his next words were meant to be, he lets them drift away between us like smoke in the wind. The fire in his eyes dims. A touch of pity pricks my heart at this abrupt forlornness.
Suddenly, he shoots to his feet, causing me to jump back.
“Why was I not told about this?” he demands.
“We—we did not wish to offend you, my king.”
His eyes blaze with fresh heat. For a moment, he doesn’t even seem to see me his rage is so great. I fight to convince myself that the horns aren’t lengthening as I watch.
“I’ll kill him,” the king snarls to himself. “I’ll bite off his head for this.” Whirling around, he stalks toward the door.
“Wait!”
I hardly realize I’ve come around the side of the bed, but here I stand in the middle of the room with nothing between the king and me but the wretched rug beneath my feet. He stops with his back to me.
“Your Majesty,” I say, “you aren’t really going to…what I mean is, surely, this can wait till tomorrow.”
I have no affection for Abely and his incompetency, but I don’t want to be responsible for his death.
“Abely has dishonored Tirenth,” the king says without turning. “He has dishonored me, and he has dishonored you. One of those alone would warrant me dragging him from his bed and ripping him apart.”
His voice darkens as he speaks, and fear sees me leaping in to stop this descent.
“I agree he has acted most dishonorably,” I say. “But please, consider that I’ve only just arrived—”
“All the greater the insult.”
“—and having the head bitten off one of your ministers will not endear me to your subjects.”
Here, he pauses. His shoulders remain stiff, but they start to rise and fall in even measures. I begin to relax myself.
“I will kill him quietly,” the king says before angling again for the door.
True panic sets in. I can’t let him kill a man—a dragon, a whatever he may be—for being a ridiculous drunk! The king grabs the door handle.
“If you leave,” I call out, voice quavering, “I’ll tell everyone I threw you out of the room, and how will that look?”
He pulls up short. Slowly, his head turns back my way.
“What?”
I clench my fists at my sides. “You heard me. I’ll tell all the staff I threw you out. No one will believe we’re fated fires—”
“Fated flames.”
“That. No one will believe a word of it.”
It’s a bold move and likely foolhardy, but a realization struck me in the brief seconds between his threat and mine. Yes, I need him to pay Vasna’s debt and pull my people out of poverty. I need him desperately to do so.
But he needs me, too.
His land is dry as a bone, and I sense the little water that is near dwindling. My gift carries great value here.
The king doesn’t move. “Do you threaten me?” he whispers.
When I don’t answer, he pivots, and in two strides, he’s before me. My heart quickens. I have to crane my neck back to meet his eyes, which no longer hold flames, yet somehow seem just as piercing.
“Do you,” he repeats, “threaten me, Princess?”
I want to say no. I want to crawl beneath the blankets behind me and hide away from this dragon king, from the bulk of him looming over me, but if I learned anything from my mother, it’s that giving in once is a slippery slope without end.
“I’m not threatening you,” I say, lowering my voice to match his. “I’m asking.”
“It didn’t sound like an ask.”
“Then I am asking now.” I resist the urge to bite my lip again. “Please stay, Your Majesty.”
All my courage is needed to hold his gaze in the seconds after. I’m reminded of what I was told when I was a little girl about wild dogs, to not meet their eyes lest they take that as a challenge. Now, I stare directly into the king’s, sure I’ll lose if I look away.
To my shock and infinite relief, the king draws a long breath through his nose and finally—finally—relents. He does this by whirling around, snatching up his pillow, and flinging it onto the rug beside my bed. Then he flops down with arms crossed and lies there, looking for all the world like a sullen little boy. Rolling over, he turns his back to me.
I puzzle over him another moment before padding to the over side of the bed and climbing in. My cat friend rises to come curl against my side, and I stroke him as I stare off into the dark.
Are all dragons like this? Raging one moment and sulking the next?
“Goodnight, princess,” the king grumbles.
“Goodnight, Your Majesty."
***
My eyes flutter open to the sound of a tap at the door. Blinking against a mid-morning sun, I strive to make sense of my surroundings.
Tirenth. I’m in my room in Tirenth.
My cat friend, apparently impervious to morning knocks, is nestled against my back. I can’t believe I actually fell asleep with the king lying right next to—
Someone lets out a groan just behind my ear.
“Tell them five more minutes,” a husky voice says, breath tickling my neck.
My eyes widen. It isn’t my cat friend nestled against me.
It’s the king.