Page 42 of In the Embrace of Dragons

I clear my throat and fully look her in the eyes. They are arresting, large and intense, a fieriness in them that speaks to my own rising heat. I must tread carefully, though, if I am to get back into her good graces. If I tell her what I need, what I crave, she may simply send me away.

Perhaps if I frame it as part of her duties as queen, she’ll listen to me.

“The kingdom wants an heir,” I begin uncertainly. “So, that is why I’m here.”

Nissia blanches, and I sense Ragnakor tense up beside me at the same time.

“You came to... have sex?” Disgust twists my queen’s features. “That’s it? You don’t speak to me, you ignore me, you go behind my back?—”

“I did not,” I growl. No, I have been, unfortunately, very celibate.

She sighs, turning her head away. “I know that you tried.”

I shoot a betrayed look at Ragnakor, but he remains stone-faced. I didn’t think I would have to face the consequences of that particular action.

Nissia gets up out of her seat. “Is that all?” she asks, tying the ribbon around her waist to keep the robe closed. I already miss that peek of dark brown skin.

“Is that all?” I repeat, sounding rather stupid. “But we’re not done yet?—”

“Yes, we are done.”

She strides around the table until she is standing close to me, so close that her scent fills my nostrils. Instantly, my cock is awake, and my claws itch to grab her. All I want is to feel her again, for her little legs to wind around my hips and?—

Nissia leans down so she’s speaking right into my ear canal. “I am not going to be your vessel. Having an heir is your problem, not mine.”

My mouth falls open. “But you are the queen. You are mywife!”

“So?” she asks, drawing away. “That’s in name only, as you said. I did what I was supposed to do. I came here, I married you, I did your stupid ceremony. I am not required to lie underneath you.”

Then she walks away, disappearing back into the washroom and slamming the door behind her.

I stand there staring for far too long. Damn it all, I fumbled this one very badly. Now, my wife is even angrier at me than before.

How do I repair this? Is it truly beyond saving?

“I think you should leave,” the handmaid says after a time, her head bowed.

I grimace, then head to the door. “I don’t need to be told that.” I gesture at Ragnakor to follow. A look of remorse crosses his face before he comes along.

Once we’re out in the hall, the handmaid shuts—and locks—the door behind us.

RAGNAKOR

The king is silent during the short walk back to his own quarters, his shoulders tense. I admire Nissia even more now for what she said. She refuses to be used, to be treated like cattle, and I think she might be the exact sort of queen we need right now.

What will it take to make Vizarios realize that she is, in fact, his perfect match, just because of moments like this? He needs someone to stand up to him, to put him in his place. But he also must develop some kind of tenderness if he’s to earn her affection again.

When we return, Vizarios stops at his door and leans against it with a fist.

“What do I do now?” he asks, and I can’t tell if he’s speaking to me or himself. “I’m going to lose my mind. I did my best, and it was not enough.”

He trails off, bowing his head until his horns rest on the door. I don’t speak.

“And you.” He turns his head to glare at me. “You sided with her. You hate me now, too, don’t you?”

It’s not spoken accusingly, but softly, sadly.

I frown. “I do not hate you at all.”