JUDGEMENT DAY AND INCREASED MORTIFICATION

I am not a queen because I rule, I rule because I am THE QUEEN.

Birthed in my heart. Alive in my veins…

*****************

Infernal Keep of Valcresh, Valcresh, The South…

It was another day for judgement in the arena and those in the same isolation unit as the recent spies of the North, felt a form of relief.

This is the day the spies were meant to be brought before the King of Valcresh and the citizens of the Kingdom, and this meant they should eventually leave their space.

But their relief soon slipped out through the bars of their unit when the soldiers that arrived had passed and gone to get other criminals.

One of them rushed to the cell’s bars and stopped one of the soldiers with a piercing scream as they were leaving.

‘‘Heavens above! What could you need bedlamite?’’ The soldier barked right back but didn’t make a move close to the man.

‘‘Why aren’t you taking them?’’ he asked, turning to gesture toward three members of his unit.

Elias was deep in conversation with his pet mouse.

Helga stared at the man with such intensity that, despite his forced courage, he involuntarily shuddered. Ivan Juno Cassius lay on the floor, one hand beneath his head, eyes closed as if the world around him didn’t exist.

‘‘Why should we?’’ The soldier questioned.

The man’s eyes widened. He scratched at his thin, greasy grey hair, clearly flustered.

‘‘Because- they are the spies you brought in.

They are the ones awaiting judgement!’’

The soldier chuckled, casting a glance toward the cell, then back at the confused man.

‘‘No, they aren’t. The ones who just left were the spies who disrupted the arena weeks ago.’’

He paused, before adding flatly, ‘‘You really ought to be dead.’’

With that, the soldier turned and marched after the others.

He glued himself to the bar as he swallowed, turning back to Elias and Helga. Elias glanced up from the mouse in his hand.

‘‘I really hope for your safety I misheard you.

We have bonded over the past few weeks. And yet, you were trying to sell us out, Just like that-!’’

The man tried to gulp down his fear, but a lump still rose. Elias unfurled from the ground, his steps silent as he made his way to the man.

****************

When Nadezhda woke a few hours later, a heavy arm was still draped across her waist. Warm, solid, and wholly uninvited.

She blinked into the light, mind slow to catch up with reality.

Zorgan! She was in bed with Zorgan.

Carefully, she slipped her fingers beneath his forearm and began the slow process of peeling it away. This time, he didn’t tighten his grip- just mumbled something incoherent in his sleep. She exhaled in relief and slid out from under him.

As she did, he rolled onto his back, lips parted, chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep slumber.

She could have left him like that, but she remembered the poultices on his back. If he stayed on it like that, all the salve would rub off and go to waste.

With a sigh, she tiptoed to the other side of the bed and eyed him like a boulder she had to push uphill. The man was made of muscle. Hard lines, solid, corded, and unyielding muscle.

Heat warmed the tips of her ears but she moved to turn him. Her first few nudges did nothing. He didn’t so much as twitch.

Gritting her teeth, she properly climbed onto the bed, and positioned herself better, knees sinking into the mattress beside him. She wasn’t about to let Dorian’s hard work and the salve, be wasted on a man too large and too unconscious to roll over properly.

This time she pushed- harder.

Zorgan began to move… midway, and she realized it wasn’t because of her strength. Zorgan was awake.

In one very smooth, startling shift, he rolled toward her, eyes open, catching her off guard completely. She gasped and jerked backward, tipping.

Her foot slipped from the edge of the bed, and her weight pulled her half of it.

A firm hand clamped around her ankle.

She dangled for a breathless moment, halfway off the bed, caught only by his grip.

Her view was tilted but it couldn’t deter the heat that rushed up her leg- not from the contact itself, but from the awareness of it.

Her gown had ridden up. The skin above her knees was partly exposed. Exposed to the scrutiny of his eyes, which were on her- unblinking, intense, and shameless.

‘‘You bloody Dragon,’’ she hissed, heat blooming on her cheeks. “Let me go.’’

The words cut through the moment quickly and like a blade.

Zorgan’s grip loosened instantly.

He released her like he had been stung- shaken by the swiftness of his own reaction to the sight of her.

And Nadezhda, now without support, dropped like a stone.

Her head hit the floor with a resounding thud.

A beat of silence.

Then a low curse, rough and hoarse, as he leaned over the edge of the bed to look down at her – eyes stormy, nearly amused, jaw clenched.

Grey eyes stared at him, dazed, mortified, and furious.

Zorgan thought of apologizing. Briefly.

He wondered if she had hit her head too hard- if the fall had done damage beyond her pride. But an apology would be somewhat…strange. That wasn’t how they worked.

No, their bond thrived on conflict, subtle digs, and overt challenges. That’s what made them tick.

So instead of an apology, Zorgan let a slow, amused grin slide onto his face. Her eyes, sharp as ever, flicked to his face.

Judgement gleamed in them like tempered steel, adding another transgression to the list she already held against him.

She pushed herself upright, breath uneven, anger tightening her chest.

‘‘Out,’’ she snapped, voice sharp and unforgiving. Her arm stretched toward the door, finger straight and commanding, the other hand clenched tightly at her side.

It didn’t matter why she had been kind- whether it was pity for his injury or guilt for being the cause of it. None of it excused what he had done.

He had held her to his side when she didn’t permit to be touched. He had embarrassed her when all she had meant was to help. And now…he dared to smile?

Zorgan, entirely unbothered, leaned back against the headboard, hands laced behind his hand, body stretching and that grin fixed firmly on his lips.

Unrepentant.

She wanted to break something and most preferred would be that rough and alluring face of his.

‘Al- Alluring?!!’

At least, his smirk was not as confusing as the one he had worn in the carriage. She had even dreamed of him smiling foolishly in that manner.

‘How absurd! Fatally so. Ridiculous!’

This smile was the one she inclined toward, the one that made her boil to punch him in the face- alluring or not.

‘‘I said NOW!’’ she snarled, lower, angrier.

‘‘Ah,’’ he said, voice low and dripping with mock confusion.

‘‘Perhaps a lingering side effect of the poison, My Lady. Because you seem to be under the perfect haze that this is your room.”

Her gaze darted around the chamber- the bedding, the walls, the armour stand.

Realization hit. This was his room.

‘Heavens, take me home!’

Her spine stiffened, jaw locking tight as she turned – fast – to disappear, flee, just as long as she didn’t see him.

She heard light giggles behind her. She didn’t make it two steps.

Her knees buckled beneath her. Her body hit the floor with a graceless thud- again.

Behind, Zorgan laughed. Loudly. Gleefully.

She leaped up with pure rage, cheeks burning hotter than battle fire.

‘‘I’ll be a gentleman and excuse myself,’’ he said through laughter, swinging his legs down with no urgency at all.

‘‘No. You stay right there, you vermin, you scoundrel, you two-legged infestation, Dragon-”

Each insult sent his laughter higher. She stormed out before she could think better of it, slamming the door behind her like she meant to break its hinges.

She paused against the door, chest still heaving, her chest aflame. His laughter still rang from the other side – and worse, a traitorous smile was forming on her lips.

She clenched her teeth.

‘‘My Lady-,’’ came a meek voice from beside her. Astrid.

Nadezhda’s eyes snapped open in horror. She clamped a hand over the girl’s mouth before she could say another word. Zorgan’s laughter returned instantly.

He knew she was still behind the door.

She grabbed Astrid and dragged her away from the door, her own laughter bubbling up despite herself.

He was going to pay. Oh, he would pay.

Inside, Zorgan finally stood, his body stiff and aching, but his mood far too pleased.

The smile on his lip lingered, stuck there by the memory of his wife – her fire, her fury, her complete unpredictability.

He would ask about her head later.

‘‘Such a rebel,’’ he muttered, peeling off the last of his clothes.