Jovari the Blue

Chapter 9: Brute of a king

Battle Ground, Indiana

Claire picked at her dinner, stealing furtive glances at the massive drengr sitting across from her. The king of Dragonwall. At her table. A real king, like something out of a fairytale.

Not that she could truly fathom the gravity of it. All she knew about Dragonwall was what she'd been told. First, from Irelia, and then from these strange beings. But that wasn't even the half of it. He'd claimed they were mates. That she was his queen.

The mere thought left her heart thudding with...what? Eagerness? Wariness? Confusion? Apprehension? So many emotions. She could hardly name them all as they jumbled together inside of her, making her insides squirm and dance.

Earlier, they'd gone to the crater, found it hidden within the cornfield, something her parents hadn't even discovered. Then, much to everyone's shock, both Talon and Jovari had proven themselves by transforming into dragons. Real freaking dragons!

It was only for that reason that her parents were here at the dining table. They had no choice but to believe what King Talon had claimed. Not that they were happy about it. They sat silently as Talon and Jovari rehashed everything for her parents, explaining why they were taking their only daughter away. That it was unlikely she'd ever return.

Her father wore a permanent scowl. "I refuse to believe my daughter threw caution to the wind and married some hulking brute of a king just to help him rule his kingdom."

She gasped. Then her eyes shot to the king, hoping he wouldn't smash their table, roar like a dragon, or shout off with his head. Wasn't that what kings did?

Michael Evans was often firm, having once been a surgeon who held literal lives in his hands. Clearly, the idea of his only daughter married off—without having been involved—rankled.

"I would never hurt her," Talon all but growled, just as Jovari chuckled and muttered the word brute under his breath, as if he found it amusing. "She is more precious to me than life itself."

Claire blinked.

Her father only harrumphed and said, "She'd better be."

"She is." The king's voice was hard and unyielding.

Something hot slid down her insides and pooled in her abdomen. She discreetly studied his scars, the way they lined his face, the most prominent slashing diagonally from eyebrow to jawbone. What had done something like that? Despite them, she found him handsome in an unconventional way. Not so much because of his face, but because of the way he carried himself, his broad shoulders, his towering body, and even the deep rumble of his voice.

But her father was right. He was a brute, with layers upon layers of muscle and a head of messy hair. Not to mention all the growling he did, like a vicious predator.

"Claire Bear, does this sound like something you'd do? Marry this man—this, drengr?" Her father tripped over the unfamiliar word. Unfamiliar to him, but not to her. Because when she'd spoken it earlier, something about it had felt...normal.

Every eye around the table snapped in her direction and she felt her cheeks warm. If she was a queen, as they claimed, shouldn't this be easier? This was the part where she ought to square her shoulders and lift her chin. The part where she gave a nice, concise, definitive answer. "I..."

"An entire kingdom witnessed the ceremony," Jovari said, coming to her rescue. "Myself included. You wore a beautiful black gown and cape. There were scales around your neck."

"Black?!" Her father's eyes bulged. "Why not...white?" he sputtered. Probably because her mother had saved her wedding dress in case Claire might want to wear it.