Page 42 of Dragon King’s Bullied Mate

His jaw tightened hard enough to ache before he finally jerked his chin toward the road behind them. “Return to the castle if that was your command. I will deal with Dag myself.”

Relief flickered too quickly across several faces. That alone told him enough.

The guards finished the tire change quickly after that, clearly eager to escape the oppressive weight of his temper, and their current situation. Mikael remained motionless for several seconds while Malaya studied him carefully.

“You’re thinking dangerous thoughts,” she muttered.

“There are dangerous people around me,” Mikael replied.

They continued on shortly afterward. By the time they finally reached the village, the winter sun was high in the sky as snow fell softly around them. Smoke curling warmly from chimneys while people hurried from place to place. Under different circumstances the place might have felt peaceful and ordinary.

Instead, Mikael could feel the tension the moment they exited the truck. Villagers who recognized their king quickly turned away or disappeared indoors entirely.

“They hate us,” Malaya muttered beneath her breath.

“They fear us,” Mikael corrected grimly. Which, he suspected, was worse.

Malaya pointed toward the bakery. “Coffee first before we continue threatening innocent civilians?”

Mikael almost declined before realizing he had not eaten or slept properly in recent memory and his dragon’s agitation had already left him exhausted. The scent of fresh bread drifting through the cold air suddenly became difficult to ignore.

Inside, warmth wrapped around them immediately along with the smell of cinnamon, butter, and strong coffee. Once again, the moment Mikael stepped through the doorway the quiet conversations inside died almost instantly.

Every face turned toward him, then away again. The woman behind the counter stiffened visibly. She folded her flour-covered arms defensively. “We’re closing.”

Malaya glanced toward the trays overflowing with fresh pastries. “You literally still have customers.”

“Now we don’t.”

Mikael ignored the hostility and stepped closer instead. He removed his gloves slowly so he appeared less threatening. “What’s your name?”

“Meren.” The look on her face said she hated answering him, but since he was the king, she dared not ignore him.

“Well, Meren, despite what happened recently, I’m not here to harm anyone,” he said evenly.

She looked unconvinced. “That’s what royals usually say before things become everyone else’s problem.”

Several villagers quietly murmured agreement.

Mikael forced himself not to react to the bitterness in her voice because, honestly, after what had happened to Lyra, they had earned the right to distrust him. Was this really what his rule had become? People afraid of him?

“I’m trying to find Lyra and Beckett,” he said. “I need to know they’re safe.”

At the mention of Beckett, something in Meren’s expression shifted slightly, a little less openly hostile.

“And if you find them?”

Mikael held her gaze. “Then I make certain no one hurts them again.”

Silence stretched.

“No guards?”

“No one will be taken away again. I take full responsibility for the fiasco, but I guarantee it will not happen again.”

Finally Meren sighed heavily and wiped her hands on her apron. “They’re safe,” she admitted. “Lyra found Beckett earlier today and took him home.”

Relief hit Mikael hard and fast. “Thank the gods.”