Claiming the Dragon King
Chapter Thirty
He’d been gone for days, and the camp had gone from everyday noise to silence. It was eerie as the women awaited the return of the men. She’d walked the camp, chancing the suspicious stares that followed her around when she had. Remy was her constant companion, but she had given up speaking. She knew their plan, which meant she knew nothing she did would stop their course of action.
She was a pawn here, one they intended to use. She’d turned over everything in her head until she knew what she planned to do, and she’d do it before Blane returned, before he could figure out her course of action.
She’d begun collecting things, one day at a time, as she prepared to leave the dragons to return to her world before her brothers discovered her location and brought the entire Horde here, to fight them. She just had to find the courage to leave while carrying Blane’s child.
Screaming erupted outside her tent, and she rose, moving swiftly towards the door. Outside, chaos ensued. People were running away from one side of the camp. Ciara ran in the direction everyone else was running away from.
Remy was fighting something, but he seemed oblivious on where to aim his sword. Fyra was beside him, swinging her sword blindly as children rushed away from them. Ciara ignited her power, gasping as she took in the creatures around the pair. Remy and Fyra were covered in blood, and Ciara hesitated as she approached the scene. If she was leaving, now was the time to do it.
Ciara looked around, watching as a creature with horns and blood dripping fangs rushed towards a child.
“Bloody hell,” she hissed and glamoured her armor on and materialized swords as she rushed towards the creature. Her blades swung out, catching the thing between the shoulder and head, cleanly beheading it. The kid tripped backwards, staring up at her. “Run, go find your mother now,” she urged as she turned towards Remy and Fyra.
She didn’t make it; someone else screamed, and her eyes surveyed the area, finding the child who let out the scream. She rushed towards it, swinging her sword with precision. It hit its mark, and she reached down, pulling the child to his feet as her violet eyes surveyed the tiny thing for damage.
“Run,” she screeched as more of the beings seemed to converge on her location. She twirled her swords, stretching her neck as they tilted their heads, studying her as she moved in a tight circle, awaiting their move.
“Come on, you fuckers,” she whispered as her eyes met Remy’s over one of the beast’s head. She knew what she looked like, the Elite Guards. She wore their armor, covering every inch of her but her eyes, the only telltale sign of who was in their midst fighting to protect them.
One moved, and she threw her sword in a wide arc, slicing through them as Zahruk had taught her to, no hesitation. Blood splattered her armor, and the putrid scent of it made her stomach roil. She didn’t stop until the last had fallen in a pool of its own blood.
She moved towards the fighting duo, slicing the stray beast that rushed at her as she made her way to them. Once there, she decapitated the closest one, slicing through two more before the pair turned to stare in her direction. The woods rumbled with noise, and Ciara turned, stared into them as she raised her sword over her shoulder, preparing to defend those who couldn’t see the creatures who approached.
Blane had told her about them, and yet she’d never imagined having to fight for his people against them. Another beast burst through the forest with wild eyes, rushing right for them. The moment it ran close enough, she swung her blade, turning to nod at Remy who held a bleeding arm, while helping Fyra from the ground, who stared at Ciara with confusion.
Ciara turned back as the forest continued to rumble with the sound of thunder. Her arms burned from wielding a blade after so long, the fire in her shoulders ached. Horses burst through the woods, and she paused as one raced right for her. She stepped back, backpedaling as Blane rushed towards her.
She dropped her sword as he threw his from the saddle. Directly at her. It struck her arm, and she fell to the ground, lifting her eyes to him as she stared down death. His eyes were dark, darker than she’d ever seen them before. He dismounted and retrieved his sword, throwing it back to land a killing blow.
“Blane, no! She saved us, she saved all of us!” Fyra screeched as she shielded Ciara from his anger.
“They’re Elite Guard, Fyra, get out of my way!” he thundered.
“She’s your wife!” she challenged.
Those behind them whispered as Ciara held her arm together. Blood pooled inside her armor. Consciousness threatened to slip as she glamoured the armor off and remained on the ground, clutching her arm where the skin held it together.
“Gods,” Remy hissed. “We need the healer, now!” he screamed, and Fyra knelt beside her as Blane stood silently still, staring down at her.
“Ciara,” he whispered.
“The baby,” she uttered through chattering lips. “Remy, the baby,” she hissed as he picked her up.
“What baby?” he asked, stalling to look around.
“My baby,” she sobbed. “Save it, you have to make them save it, please.” A giant sobbed rocked through her as he swore violently.
“Where the fuck is the healer?”
“You son of a bitch,” Fyra growled as she slapped Blane. “She’s pregnant, and you attacked her? She’s your wife, you bloody bastard.”
“She’s not pregnant! I didn’t know it was her, I only saw the fucking armor!” His voice was harsh, angry. “Why the fuck was she in it, or better yet, why the fuck was she wielding a sword against me?”
“She was defending us, your people. Those things attacked us, and she defended, she saved us, you bloody idiot!”
Ciara closed her eyes, giving in to the need to sleep. “No you don’t, stay with me, Ciara. You can’t sleep yet,” Remy murmured as he moved them to the tent as the healer joined them. “The queen is injured, she was hurt defending us. Save her, or you die. Save her child.”
Ciara gave into the blackened embrace, falling deep into its velvet clutches. It didn’t last long; healing salts were pushed beneath her nose, and she screamed as her arm was set, the pain piercing her sleep. Tears leaked from her eyes as they tortured her, ripping her apart as hands held her in place, and then she opened her eyes, finding that place where nothing could touch her. Everyone whispered, assuming the worst.
“She’s not dead, it’s how she lived and survived through Alazander dissecting her.” Blane’s voice was distant, as if he stood across the field.
“He dissected her?” Fyra whispered.
“He tortured her,” he admitted. “He enjoyed it. He did it until she learned to take it in silence, without making a noise.”
“Bloody fucking hell,” she whispered thickly. “His own child?” Were those tears choking up her up? Ciara turned, staring at her blankly. “She can hear us?”
“I don’t think so; I don’t know if she hears or knows anything that happens when she goes wherever she goes. She’s just…gone mentally.”
“And you were not aware that she carried your child?”
“No, she never said anything or let on that she was pregnant,” he replied with a deep exhale. “I never asked either, just didn’t really expect anything this fast. That shit takes time.”
“You stick your dick in, and this is what happens, you idiot. You’re about as thick as they come, asshole. I still can’t believe she helped us, I mean, she was fucking fearless. We didn’t even see them and yet she knew exactly where those fuckers were. Blane, she saved us, and she didn’t have to. She could have watched us die, and I mean, I have not been nice to her so I wouldn’t have blamed her. She saved children, our children, Blane. Dragons. She didn’t fucking bat an eyelash at doing so.”
“I get it, Fyra, I fucked up. I saw the armor, I attacked. It’s instinct. How the hell was I supposed to know it was
my wife wearing their armor?”
“You idiot, she was wearing her armor. She is theirs. For fuck’s sake, she wielded a blade at our head the first time you clapped eyes on her. Your wife is a badass bitch, and the only reason she’s on this Gods-forsaken bed is because her idiot husband saw an enemy where there wasn’t one.”
Ciara felt her arm being placed on her stomach and then her heavy eyes closed as the pain lessened.
Maybe Fyra wasn’t a bitch who had to die after all? Maybe.
Chapter Thirty-One
Ciara blinked against the bright light inside the tent. She stared up at the poles, trying to mentally take in what had happened and how severe the injury was. Her heart was rapidly beating, and her mind replayed Blane’s hatred which had filled his eyes at the sight of her in armor. Hushed voices made her close her eyes, and pretend to sleep.
“Is it dragon or Fae?” Blane’s voice was low, hushed in the small tent they were in.
“I cannot tell you that yet, all I can tell you is it is alive and strong inside of her. Other than that, who knows? It’s a babe, a very powerful one to have lived through so much blood loss. Her arm will heal, and she will live, Blane, your child will live. Rejoice that both survived what you did. If she hadn’t been able to take the pain, she’d have died, along with the heir to your throne. Be glad you chose a strong woman to deal with you because Goddess knows a weaker one would keel over dead.”
Ciara laughed, turning to look at Blane, who stared down at her. Remy snorted from across the tent, watching her.
“Hey, sleeping beauty,” he murmured as he stood to kneel beside her. “My hero,” he purred thickly as he smoothed her hair away from her face.
“Shush you; is the babe okay?” she whispered hoarsely.
“Oh, aye, it’s strong like its mother,” he nodded as he placed a hand on hers. “Really, Ciara. You saved us last week.”
“Last week?” she asked, groaning as she tried to sit up.
“Stay down, you need to rest,” he griped when she refused.
“I need to feed. The babe has to have substance and a week is too long,” she murmured as her eyes darted to Blane, who watched her carefully.
“It’s well, it’s had intravenous feeding for two days,” Remy explained.
“And? I’m Fae, and starving, so it is starving, Remy. It is housed in my body, not his. It is mine too, and if I starve, it starves.”
“Valid point,” the healer stated as he pushed Remy out of the way and lifted her gown, plopping goo all over her belly.
“Um, awkward and uncalled for,” she snapped. “That stuff is freezing!” she screeched until she heard it. A loud, thumping noise that caused her to jump and tense. “Is that…is that his heartbeat?” she whispered through a thickness she couldn’t explain.
“Yes, that’s its heartbeat, we are unsure whether it is male or female,” the healer said.
“It’s a boy, the dragon said so,” she murmured as she stared at her belly. “Do it again, please,” she begged. Once the thundering of his heart exploded, wonder filled her face, and she looked at Remy. “Do you hear him? Oh, my Gods, he is perfect!” she sat up more, staring over at Blane, who stood beside Fyra. Her smile faltered, and she turned her eyes back to Remy. “He’s perfect. My baby is perfect.”
“Our baby,” Blane growled. “Is she well enough to…feed as her kind does?” he asked, staring at Ciara.
“I see no reason why she wouldn’t be,” he announced. Ciara took him in; he was short, stout, with bright red hair. His blue eyes smiled at her and he shook his head with something in his eyes she couldn’t place; respect? “She carries no signs of weakening, and the blood volume has been replaced. She’s a fighter, our queen is. She saved more than her share of us last week, and the Gods have rewarded her with good health and a healthy child for her valiant display of courage.”
“I didn’t do anything special,” she argued with an embarrassed flush. “They couldn’t see them, or they’d have handled it fine. They are people, everyone deserves to live freely. Those creatures, they’re…different. What are they?” she asked, and the room went silent. She’d known the dragons would have changed if they could have, but with so many children running in every direction, they’d have done more harm than good.
“They’re Horde,” the healer said when no one else offered it up.
“No, they’re not. We have no creatures like that, and they wouldn’t be out this far if they were. They almost looked foreign, as if they came through one of the open portals.”
“Open portals?” he asked.
“The portals in Faery fractured; instead of closing as they should have, they opened. They’ve continued to open since. I’m not sure since I have been gone…a while, but they were trying to close them, and everything we did made them grow larger. We threw a Goddess at them and they not only opened further, they expanded for miles. Reports were coming in from everywhere, including the Winter Court, that said the ones close to them were fractured as well. We’re close to it; we have to be, with the air freezing as it does. It’s magic, something the winter Fae do to ward off the Summer Fae, for whatever reason they continue to fight. I read about it when I was a child, the air turning cold without warning, it’s on a timer. Isn’t it?” she asked. The healer looked at Blane, and she rolled her eyes. “Blink twice, and I’ll get you someplace safe away from Mister Frowns-A-Lot, and we can chat.”
“Enough, everyone out,” Blane bellowed.
“Seriously though, just blink,” she said with a wink.
Fyra chuckled as she exited the tent with Remy. “Bloody hell, I like her, didn’t see that shit coming.”
“She grows on you, like a fungus, or one of those rare viruses you learn to live with, but that sass, fuck if that shit doesn’t make my dick stand up and take notice.”
“Fuck, Remy, why does it always end with your dick? Keep that shit to yourself,” Fyra groaned as their voices trailed off.
“Easy with her,” the healer said. “Unless she’s up for it,” he amended. “I’m not skilled in the healing of Fae, so I’m not sure what her heal time for blood loss is,” he admitted.
“I’m okay,” she said firmly as she said up and the world spun around her. “Okay, I’m okay.” She closed her eyes as her hand moved to her belly, resting on it as she sat there listening to the healer give a few instructions on his way out. Once they were alone, she turned to look at him with her hand protectively cradling her belly.
His eyes lowered to it, and his hand rubbed down his face as he moved to the one chair in the room and sat in it. He looked like shit, as if he hadn’t slept for the entire week. His hair was standing up, as if he’d run his fingers through it a million time, and there were black bags beneath his eyes.
“How long have you known you were with child, Ciara?” he demanded as his eyes held hers.
“Since the night we married,” she replied as she frowned.
“Yet you ran in to defend warriors, placing the babe and yourself in harm’s way?” he asked carefully.
“I didn’t think, I acted,” she stated softly. “There were children in danger, and no one could see who was attacking. They couldn’t turn to just fry them either with the kids scattered, so I did what was needed to protect them.”
“You’re done taking chances with our child’s life,” he growled angrily as he stood up, staring down at her. “You’re the queen; they protect you, not the other way around.”
She stared up at him as a fresh wave of anger flowed through her. She slipped from the bed, standing on unsteady legs and he moved to her without warning, holding her up as he slid his arms around her waist.
“Get off of me, dragon,” she ordered as her hands rested against his chest and stayed there. Her head swam, a crescendo of stars burst behind her eyes, and she remained there longer than s
he wanted to, needing his support even if she didn’t want it. “I couldn’t watch children die,” she whispered as her head rested against his heat.
“I could have killed you,” he murmured thickly as he cupped her chin, lifting her face so he could see the storm brewing in her eyes.
“I shouldn’t have glamoured on the armor,” she admitted. “I didn’t think about that, other than to protect our son in battle. It’s normally able to deflect weapons, but then you would have the one sword that can penetrate it.”
“And you’re sure you’re carrying my son?”
“The dragon said I would give you a son, one which will help to heal the world. But then he said I could save you too, and he was obviously wrong about that,” she stated as she pulled away from him.
“You two talked about a lot of things,” he snapped as he dropped his arms and stepped back, away from her.
“Can we go to our tent and finish this…whatever it is?” she asked as she turned, lifting the gown she wore to wipe off the goo the healer had forgotten to. Her belly was growing, her tiny bump now visible. She had no idea how dragon pregnancies went, but Fae only carried a few months, and Synthia had birthed her babes earlier since someone had tried to take them from her womb.
“Whatever this is?” he scoffed as he placed his hands on his hips. “You knew you carried my child and you kept it from me, the king.”
“You’re not my king,” she pointed out. “Look, I was waiting to see if it was real or if your flying lizard was drunk.”
“The wine that we shared had very little alcohol in it, Ciara. In fact, I’ve asked the healer if we can try it again. This time without the dragon taking over,” he said adamantly. “I want to see you, all of you and have the wedding night that was meant for us. Give me this, please?”