The Blood King - Chapter Thirty (Patreon)

Cassian

“First you lead her right to my fortress, then you allow her to train on the same grounds our people’s blood spilled,” Silas hisses from behind me.

I ignore him, keeping my attention focused on Nymira through the glass. She’s smiling as she spars with Caius. She looks much better than she did the other night. She obviously feels better if she is willing to exert energy sparring with Caius. It is clear he is going easy on her, but she isn’t doing too badly for someone who grew up in the forests. I guess that’s why she was able to kill a few of the humans who tried to capture her before she was brought to me.

Heat flushes over me as I continue to study her. She has always had a warrior’s aura surrounding her. She’s never shown fear and has attempted to fight her way out of situations if she felt threatened. The blood continues to swell my cock as I think of her standing before me in the forest with a weapon she created out of thin air. The expression on her face was determined as she looked up at me through thick, white lashes. I’m curious how she would look with that same expression, looking up at me while my cock rests on her tongue.

I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.

The more time I spend around her, the heavier this desire weighs on me. The other night, it took everything in me not to tear that thin dress from her body and have my way with her. I wasn’t thinking when I picked her up, but having her so close to me, her scent right under me as her cool skin was flush with mine was too much. And still, my cock throbs even though I relieved myself more than once since.

“I wouldn’t say she is training,” I say more to myself than to Silas. Caius is careful with the way he spars with her. He gives her enough rope that she can show how skilled she is, but he doesn’t push back hard enough to startle her.

Silas is still irritated with my response, standing across the room.

“The fact that she holds a weapon on these grounds is—”

“I would hardly classify a wooden sword as a weapon,” I say, chuckling.

But as I turn away from the window, Silas’s expression is serious. I release a breath, my smile disappearing. Silas is one of my oldest friends and allies. Had the war not happened, he may have been an advisor to my reign. He lost everything in the war, which is why I gifted him this fortress. He held his own until reinforcements could arrive, and saved hundreds of Dragonborn in the process. Unfortunately, his family, his home, everything was taken in the process. Now, he hides away here. It is all he has.

“She is one Ikniri with no markings. Don’t forget you almost killed her easily. If not for me, you would have,” I say.

Silas scoffs.

“The markings do not matter. You saw what she was capable of,” he says.

“She was scared for her life,” I counter.

As I speak it, I am reminded of the way that I found her crouched with her hands over her ears as she cowered, speaking in our tongue. But when she awoke, she seemed to have no memory of it. As I look back through the glass, I see that they have finished with their spar, and Nymira smiles at Caius and the Thrae boy as they speak.

The longer I watch her, the more intense my irritation grows. She smiles wide enough that she begins to laugh, and I have to move away from the glass as jealousy takes hold of me.

“Why do you care if an Ikniri is frightened for her life? The order was all of them. Every last one. Or have you forgotten?” he says.

I watch him carefully, purposefully releasing heat from my pores to let him know he is crossing a thin line.

“Careful, Silas,” I say, taking a seat.

Silas furrows his brow in anger, but remains silent as he sits down as well.

“Word will spread that an Ikniri appeared and that she was taken by a Dragonborn. If there are more out there, they will not let her stay with me. Then, we will finish what this war started,” I say.

Silas scoffs.

“You’re using her as bait?” he asks.

I nod.

“You have only arrived with a handful of men. I assume you don’t expect the battle to take place here,” he says.

I smile, shifting my attention to the map that hangs over the mantle.

“I expect that when we face them, there will be pushback,” I say.

“Pushback?”

I nod. “I’m sure you noticed the Thrae among my ranks,” I say.

Silas nods.

“He attacked us. Tried to save her, even raising his hand to me,” I say.

“And he still lives?” Silas asks.

I nod, looking to the window. “He is just a boy.”

I keep to myself that it was Nymira who stopped me from killing him. He is already upset that I am showing her favor of any kind.

Silas scoffs, standing. He’s quiet as he crosses the room, grabbing the decanter filled with liquor. He also grabs two detailed glasses, crossing the room to set one on the end table next to my seat.

“Time has changed you, Your Majesty,” he says, pouring me a glass.

I slowly reach for it, tilting the glass in a slow circle to watch the warm golden liquid coat each edge of the glass.

“Hm,” I murmur, bringing it to my lips.

The burn slips down my throat, settling in my chest, and I close my eyes, savoring the taste. Humans have weak liquor, as it has been made for them. I’ve spent so much time among them; I’ve even taken to partaking in what they have to offer.

“So what does a Thrae attacking you have to do with you coming here?” Silas asks, taking a drink as well.

“If there are Ikniri out there, not everyone is going to stand by and watch us massacre them another time. He is proof of that,” I say.

Silas smiles, looking down at his drink.

“But you didn’t know that before coming here,” he says.

“The Ikniri was brought to me by humans,” I say.

Silas looks up at me, his amusement disappearing.

“They killed the woman she traveled with, beat her within an inch of her life, and paraded her through the streets before dragging her to my doorstep,” I say.

Silas’s grip on the glass tightens, and he looks away.

“They have grown too bold,” he growls.

No matter what issues arise between Ancients, the issue always stays between Ancients. At most, a human is permitted to give intel. That’s it. Touching an Ancient, let alone beating one and parading it through the streets as a prize, is a choice that only deserves death.

Humans are not our equal.

“It is time we return to our rightful places. We have had the time to mourn. But we are Dragonborn. We are not meant to disappear,” I say.

“Have you spoken to the others?” he asks.

I take a sip of my drink.

“I will be meeting Hynden after this,” I say.

Silas studies his drink.

“And the Ikniri? Once she’s served her purpose?” he asks.

“I’m sure you know the answer to that,” I say.

“You expect her to stay by your side while you massacre her people?” he asks.

I shrug. “She doesn’t have to know. Besides, she is a blank slate. She knows nothing of the war, her people, or even Ancients,” I say.

Silas laughs, watching me.

“So she has no idea who you are?” he asks.

I shake my head. “No. And I expect it to stay that way.”

Nymira

My mind is a swirl of emotion as I sit in the wooden basin filled with water. My room has been filled with heat once again, making me uncomfortable. But I understand why it has to be this way. I pull my knees to my chest, pushing my hair over my shoulder. The water weighs it down, allowing it to circle me in the basin as I lift my hand to take in the markings that I have.

My conversation with Caius weighs on me heavily.

For some reason, he thinks that Cassian isn’t going to turn me in. I smile at that. As I think of the Dragonborn who has not only spared me, but would go against the Blood King for me. I’ve grown more comfortable around him in the time that we’ve traveled from the castle to this fortress. Though he’s been intimidating at times, he has been kind at others; his words to me the other night reassured me that he is willing to be my protector.

But I cannot wait around for him to always protect me. I hate how helpless I felt when both Silas and Caderyn attacked. Maybe, if Cassian is willing to overlook that I am an Ikniri, he would consider training me in the ways of an Ancient. I want to be able to defend myself against my own kind.

I pull in a deep breath, lowering myself under the water as I push my stresses from my mind. I waited a long time for it to become this tepid. And still, it is too warm for me. When I was with Peyra, I would find a river that would cool me down. It always helped me feel closer to my power. But this- I am tired of feeling so worn down all the time from the heat.

Even now, as I focus on the chill that lingers in my chest, I can’t properly control it. I close my eyes, focusing as I did that day in the river. The chill slowly expands, traveling from my chest to my fingertips.

Suddenly, flashes of flames assault my mind.

The flames bathe my home; they attack my people. There are bodies everywhere as I am carried frantically through the village.

I gasp, pulling water into my lungs as my power explodes. I open my eyes, trying to lift up out of the water, when I am met with a thick layer of ice. It’s so thick that I can’t see through it. Panic explodes in my chest. I can’t break through. I’m trapped under it in this basin.

And I can’t breathe.

My chest burns as I frantically place my hands against the ice, but nothing happens. I have no access to my power, and I can’t make it go away. At this angle, I have no leverage to use my strength.

I am trapped and drowning in my own bath.

I beat on the ice, trying my best to break through, or have someone hear me at least. But the burn in my chest increases, forcing my mouth open as I desperately try to inhale something more than water. But water is all I get.

I close my eyes as my mind blurs, and my body spasms, forcing the remaining air from my lungs, and I slowly lose consciousness.