Page 14 of Breaking Briar

Treachery, pure and simple.

The family was taken into the castle in a show of goodwill. And why not? Briar was supposed to be my bride. Her family were my allies. And so, like an evil seed planted in the middle of our kingdom, the soldiers slipped out in the middle of the night, killing all before any alarm could be rung.

Tossing it down, I tug on a small drawer, opening it up to reveal one last letter. It confirms who and what I am once and for all. I’m the last dragon of the Balcom line. As if he knew he’d not be able to tell me in person, my former mentor and father spell out exactly what that means.

He explains the feelings that have been bubbling up inside of me since I turned eighteen. Everything and nothing make sense at the same time. Only one thing is certain. The creature writhing inside my heart is none other than a dragon. Agony splits my skull as I run my thumb over the sigil.

He should have been here to tell me this, to teach me how to be, how to act, and who I am. But he can’t. His body lies in ashes on the pyre, never to speak to me again.

The letter trembles in my blood-soaked hands as I read it for the third time. Anger and sorrow intermingle until I cannot find one from the other. Outside, I can still hear bits and pieces of the soldiers chanting my new title - Savage King - but would they still follow me if they knew the title was all wrong?

Dragon King is what they should call me. Thankfully, everything now makes sense. The heat shimmers, the uncontrollable rage. It’s the beast inside, desperate to get out. It was satiated with the violence of the Holy Wars, but now that building up a new kingdom and tending to the wounded seem on the horizon, he wants out.

There’s nowhere safe to do so. And now, without a father to guide me, it’s more treacherous than ever. With care, I put everything back and tuck the chest under my arm where it will be safe as I make my way down to the crypt. By now, my mother should be laid to rest amongst the kings and queens before her.

The glass coffin holds her shut, keeping her away from me, but perhaps it’s for the best. The men tended to her the best they could, but evidence of her horrific ordeal still remains visible to me. I see every mark, every blow, every bit of indecency they visited upon her.

Her lips no longer hold a gentle smile. There’s no mirth crinkling up her eyes. Bruises litter her face and arms, dulled by powder, but fresh and vibrant to me. Rage flows through me, making me tremble as I grip the coffin.

Next to her, the king lies, his body nearly pristine save the thin red line at his throat. The bastard, weakling that he was, didn’t even suffer. Did he even try to protect my mother? Master Balcom died trying to kill the wretched beasts who touched her, and yet this worm gets off easily with a slit throat.

The only thing that gives me any solace is seeing Briar’s mother off to the side. We both lost a maternal figure and not just me. Since she was not part of this rebellion and was only an innocent bystander, they thought of bringing her to this place. I haven’t the energy to figure out where else to put her, so I guess she shall remain. However, as I look back over at the man who would be king, that rage bubbles up once more.

Before I allow my fury to disrupt her resting place, I kiss my fingertips and place them on the glass. “Sleep well, mother.”

Someone will pay for this, and I know the perfect vessel for my rage. Kendrick took everything from me. Now it’s time I claim my bride and steal their last remaining legacy. They cursed me for being a dragon, but soon her belly will swell with my seed. She will not escape her destiny.

CHAPTER 6

PHILIP

Taking the stairs two at a time, I race up to my turret. When Briar was still a child, this was where she would stay. If she was indeed with them, as the letters suggested, she’d be here. The few times we had any sort of in-depth conversation, she waxed poetic about being a princess locked away in a tower, just waiting for her prince charming, presumably me, to come rescue her.

At the time, I let her prattle on and her imagination soar. She was, after all, only eight years old. There would be time later to dispel her of such notions. Even then, I knew I wasn’t going to be some romantic lead in her fantasies.

We didn’t even know each other, much less form any sort of romantic attachment. The only thing I’ve ever felt toward her was an intense need to protect her. It's as if my heart and soul knew she belonged to me.

Not as a lover, but as a most prized possession. My possession. And now, even as my feet pound against the stone stairs, I can already feel a slight shift in the narrative. She’s still mine, but now I feel no need to protect her.

Her family did the unthinkable, and as my wife, my possession, I will claim her in every way possible. The only problem I face is that I still see her as that child. I cannot unleash my rage upon an innocent girl.

After sifting through the contents of the chest, I discovered everything—the plot to overthrow our kingdom, the fear and brainwashing of Briar, and the evil witch who orchestrated the whole thing. Now I know what strange plants grow around the castle. Dragon’s bane. They were never there before.

The only thing the chest did not contain is a likeness of Briar as she is now. Will I even recognize her? Will enough of the child remain and thwart my need for revenge? So many questions burn in my mind as I turn the last little bit and come to the door. Her door.

Breathing in deep, I inhale her scent, dragging it into my lungs. It’s changed, somehow, morphed into something that makes my stomach growl and my cock lengthen. Before, there was a childlike, carefree note; like sunshine and wheat waving in the fields.

It spoke of endless days of running around, dipping small feet into a brook, and catching small frogs and minnows. Granted, it’s not what’s acceptable for a princess, but that’s how it hit me. Now, however, it’s taken on a scent that’s wholly different.

The bit of sunshine is still there, but now, there’s a more mature scent of amber and darkness, musk and jasmine. It’s decadent, forbidden, with just a hint of innocence. It’s that innocence that calls to the beast inside, the dragon yearning to be free.

Fighting in the Holy Wars was the only thing that kept him at bay, kept him satisfied. Now that the fighting is over, he demands to be free, to consume the prize we’ve won with blood, sweat, and tears. Balling my hand into a fist, I pound on the door, letting her hear the ferocity of my wrath before I burst in.

Nothing.

Not a sound escapes from the confines. All I can hear is the muffled sounds of celebration as my soldiers reclaim the castle as our own. Soon, there will be wailing and roars of anger as they look through their houses to find their families raped and slaughtered, but for now, it’s a relief to win.

Again, I slam my fist against the door, giving her one more chance to open. In the back of my mind, I do worry she somehow succumbed to the spell, despite knowing Kendrick and my father would destroy every spinning wheel in our kingdoms to keep her safe. Did one manage to remain hidden until just the worst moment?