A Kingdom of Ruin (Deliciously Dark Fairytales 3)

There he stood, seemingly waiting. Testing me, I guessed. He clearly wondered if I’d step forward and grab his wrist through the bars.

Should I? I asked my dragon. He is thin for his particular body type, but he’s still bigger than me. Is he stronger?

Not with my help, no, I wouldn’t think so. I bet he’s wily, though, or why would he be using himself as bait?

Yeah, good point. He’d expect me to grab his wrist and pull him forward. If he was expecting it, he’d have a counter for it.

Finally I decided to take the upfront approach.

“What are you doing?” I asked, my voice a little subdued.

He lowered his hand, and his gaze slid a little closer to me, the sound of my voice giving him guidance. “I was wondering if you would grab me and try to yank me closer. No, huh?”

“No.”

“No…” He paused as though waiting for me to expand my answer. “Just no? No explanation, no cutting remark…just no. I’m not sure what to do with you, Strange Lady. How did you move so quietly? I was listening, and I didn’t hear a sound.”

“I stepped carefully.”

“Which means you either know the exact placement of every last piece of straw in your cell, or you can see in the dark. I am going to guess B. Which means it must be true—you have access to your animal. When you were fighting that first night, a few of us felt the tug of your magic on our dragons before the suppression spell popped them back into place. Then there’s the fast healing. Why do you get access to your dragon and a sword? It is such a curiosity. Is that why Govam thinks you are dangerous? Or is he saying those things for our benefit? You never know with those demons. They run hot and cold. Are you working for them…against us?”

“Definitely not. I don’t know why he says the things he does.”

“Don’t you? Hmm. Do you know why they allow you to wear that sword and have access to your dragon?”

“Yes.”

“You have not tried to kill anyone with your very pretty, very fine, likely very sharp sword.”

I didn’t respond. Saying nothing sounded so much better than admitting the demon king was mocking me for all to see.

Another click sounded within the dungeon. Metal tinkled against metal from several other locations simultaneously.

Mr. Baritone turned and walked toward the stairs. Doors swung open and people stepped out. My heart picked up speed. This wasn’t right. All these dragons could get out, but they weren’t escaping—their focus was on me.

Maybe unmuffle that bond, I thought with shaking legs.

Light washed through the dungeon. Mr. Baritone had clicked them on. He didn’t mount the stairs, though. He started walking my way.

Vemar squinted and blinked, getting used to the difference. His gaze drifted downward over my body, settling on the sword.

“Open that door, Vemar,” Mr. Baritone commanded. Although his voice was deep and the command was intentional, it was threaded with none of the power usually carried by an alpha’s command.

Vemar chuckled again and stepped closer to the cell door. “You haven’t even taken it out of the sheath. I was trying to get as far away as possible so that you wouldn’t stick me with it, and you haven’t even reached for it.”

“I could’ve stuck you with it when you were walking toward the door. You were close enough.”

“This is true, Strange Lady, and yet you didn’t. Does that mean you like me? I see that mark on your neck. Will you choose me to lay mine on top? I’m sure I could dominate you.”

My dragon huffed and didn’t even bother to comment. If it had been Nyfain saying that, she would’ve purred and preened and tried to kick his ass. I could only assume an alpha of note would at least raise her hackles. Cleary she wasn’t worried about this guy.

A sly smile slid across Vemar’s face. “No, huh? Now I am curious about who made this claim if I am not enough. I wish Micah could scent it. I wonder if he would be driven mad with the desire to force his claim.”

“He would die if he tried,” I said without thinking.

Vemar’s onyx eyes darted up, taking my measure. That smile stretched a little wider.

“Hmm” was the only sound he made.

He worked the lock as those who were leaving their cells congregated in the middle of the dungeon. The obice meant no one could escape.

Metal clicked, and Vemar extracted his tools, sliding them behind his ears and essentially making them disappear in his mass of tightly curled hair. He grabbed a bar and pulled the door open, filling the doorway so I couldn’t get out.

“Now what?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Now we see what you will not show the officers, I think.”