The Dragon King's Blind Mate

Realization

The suffocating smell of damp linen and heavy, medicinal herbs filled the room. Lyra choked, coughing up a lungful of cold, stagnant water as her eyes snapped open. The world was its usual pitch-black void, but her body felt frozen to the absolute core. She was shivering violently, her teeth chattering so hard her jaw ached.

"Don't move," a deep, gravelly voice commanded right beside her ear.

Before she could process the sound, a pair of large, calloused hands gripped her shoulders, pinning her down against the thick blankets. A massive, towering presence hovered over her, radiating a frantic, volatile heat that burned right through her freezing skin. It was Xalvador. His breathing was heavy and erratic, completely devoid of his usual cold composure.

Xalvador stared down at her pale, shivering face, his heart hammering against his ribs like a caged beast. When he had heard Mina's scream echoing through the courtyard, when he had plunged into the black depths of the pond to drag Lyra’s lifeless body to the surface, a terror he had never felt in all his centuries had gripped his soul.

She did this because of me, the thought screamed in his mind, tearing at his sanity. She wanted to escape me. She would rather choke on freezing water than spend another night in my arms. The sheer guilt, mixed with a dark, territorial fury, made his dark aura flare dangerously around the bed.

Slowly, his hand moved from her shoulder up to her face. His thick fingers closed tightly around her delicate jaw, his grip bruisingly firm as he forced her face up toward his.

"Listen to me, Lyra," Xalvador hissed, his face mere inches from hers, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and desperation. "You do not have the right to end your life. Do you understand me? Your life belongs to me the moment the fates chose you as my mate."

"Your Majesty...?" Lyra whispered, her voice cracked and weak. She tried to pull her face back, but his grip was like an iron vice. "What... what are you talking about? Why are you holding me like this?"

"Do not play foolish with me!" Xalvador roared, his dark eyes flashing with a terrifying, supernatural light. "You threw yourself into the courtyard pond! You tried to drown yourself to escape this palace! To escape me!" He leaned closer, his thumb digging into her chin. "Hear me well, little bird. You cannot die as long as I am here. Even if you despise me, even if you want to claw your way into the afterlife just to get away from my touch, I will not allow it. I will drag your soul back from the gates of the underworld myself if I have to. You are mine, and you will remain alive by my side."

Lyra lay perfectly still, her mind spinning into a vortex of sheer confusion. The fierce, terrifying threats washed over her, but they didn't make sense. She blinked her sightless eyes, her brow furrowing deeply.

"I... I threw myself into the pond?" Lyra asked, her voice dropping to a bewildered whisper. "No... that's not true. Your Majesty, I don't remember any of that. I don't remember falling off anything."

Xalvador’s breathing caught. He studied her face intently, searching for any sign of deception, but her expression was entirely blank, empty, and genuinely lost.

"What do you mean you don't remember?" Xalvador demanded, his grip loosening slightly on her chin, though he didn't let go. "The maid saw you walk right off the edge."

"I don't," Lyra softy argued, shaking her head as much as his hand would allow. "The last thing I remember... I was lying right here in this bed. Mina brought me my headache medicine, and I drank it. Then I went to sleep. I only remember sleeping, Your Majesty. I don't know how I ended up in the water."

Xalvador’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. Something was deeply wrong. The volatile, hateful defiance she had shown him the day before was entirely gone, replaced by this eerie, gentle confusion. He slowly pulled his hand away from her face, his gaze shifting sharply toward the door.

"Mina!" Xalvador barked. "Get in here!"

The door creaked open immediately, and Mina stepped into the room, her hands wringing her apron, her entire body shaking like a leaf. She didn't dare lift her head to look at the King. "Y-Yes, Your Majesty?"

Xalvador stood up, his towering figure casting a massive shadow over the trembling maid. "Tell me exactly what has been happening in this room over the past few days. Every detail. Every word. Has anyone visited her? Has she been acting strangely before tonight?"

Mina swallowed hard. The memory of Lyra’s terrifying, uncharacteristic shout from the night before flashed in her mind, along with Vivian’s secret visits. But fear of the King’s wrath and the strict orders of Lady Vivian paralyzed her tongue. If she admitted that something was wrong with Lyra’s mind, the King might execute everyone in the wing for failing to protect her.

"N-Nothing out of the ordinary has happened, Sire," Mina lied, her voice squeaking slightly as she bowed lower. "Everything has been going on well. Lady Lyra was just deeply stressed by her headaches. She must have been sleepwalking due to the pain. No one has harmed her."

Xalvador didn't say a word. He stood perfectly still, watching the maid's chest heave with erratic, terrified breaths. He watched her shift her weight from one foot to the other before bowing again.

"You may leave," Xalvador said coldly.

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Mina whispered, turning on her heel and practically rushing out of the room.

Xalvador squinted his eyes as the door clicked shut behind her. He didn't believe a single word. He turned his sharp gaze back to Lyra, who was blindly staring into space, completely unaware of the tension. Then, his eyes narrowed as he began to slowly search the layout of the room, his dark senses stretching out across the furniture, the vanity, and the heavy drapes.

The air shimmered, and Yves materialized from the shadows near the wardrobe, his face deeply grim. "Something is wrong here, Xalvador."

"I agree," Xalvador muttered, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "There is a foul scent in this room. A lingering trace of something that does not belong in the Court of Shadows."