The blue light of the healing cave was suddenly cut by a sharp, cold silver glare. The sound of a temple bell echoed against the stone walls, making my ears ring. The Dragon Heart Stone on my chest turned a freezing, icy blue.
Alaric stood up in the water. He didn't just stand; he rose like a mountain of dark muscle and heat. He pulled me behind him, his large hand gripping my waist so tightly it felt like he was trying to merge our bodies into one.
"Stay behind me, Felina," he growled. The water around his feet began to hiss and steam.
Out of the darkness of the tunnel, the High Priest walked into the light. He wasn't alone. Behind him were twelve "Paladins"—holy warriors in white armor. But it was the object in the High Priest's hands that made the "shiver" in my soul turn into a cold terror.
It was the Dragon-Slayer Spear.
In the book, this weapon was a myth. It was designed to do one thing: pierce the heart of a King and freeze the beast inside forever.
"King Alaric," the High Priest said, his voice cold and echoing. "You have fled the capital with a witch. By the power of the heavens, I command you to step away from that woman. She is a ghost inhabiting the body of Seraphina Malcor!"
"She is my Queen," Alaric hissed, his jaw shimmering with black scales. "And if you take one more step, I will melt the armor off your men's backs."
The Big Fight
The High Priest didn't wait. He raised the spear, and a blinding white light filled the cave. "Seize her!"
The Paladins charged. Alaric didn't shift into a full dragon—the cave was too small—but he let the dragon-strength take over his human body. He moved like a blur of black shadows and orange fire.
The first warrior swung a heavy mace at Alaric's head. Alaric didn't dodge. He caught the solid iron weapon with his bare hand and crushed it. The sound of metal snapping was like a bone breaking. He kicked the warrior back into the stone wall with enough force to make the ceiling shake.
"Alaric, watch out!" I screamed.
Two more Paladins tried to circle around him to get to me. Their swords were glowing with "Holy Light," meant to burn demons. Alaric let out a roar that felt like a physical weight against my chest. He turned, his hand glowing with a dark red heat. He swiped at the air, and a wave of fire sent the warriors flying into the deep water of the pool.
But the High Priest was the real danger. He waited for Alaric to be distracted, then he lunged with the Dragon-Slayer Spear.
The spear-tip whistled through the air. It was aimed straight for Alaric's heart.
"NO!" I lunged forward, grabbing a heavy silver tray from the bedside table nearby. I didn't think; I just moved. I slammed the tray against the side of the spear.
The impact sent a shock through my arms, but it was enough to make the spear miss. It sliced through Alaric's shoulder instead of his heart.
Alaric's blood, hot and glowing like lava, hit the floor. The sight of his blood made the world go red. He didn't care about the pain. He turned toward the High Priest with a look of pure, murderous obsession.
"You... touched... my... wife," Alaric whispered.
The air in the cave began to boil. Alaric grabbed the shaft of the spear with his bleeding hand. The "Holy Light" of the weapon tried to burn him, but his anger was hotter. He snapped the ancient spear in half like it was a dry twig.
The High Priest fell back, his face white with terror. "Impossible! No monster can break the Spear!"
"I am not a monster," Alaric growled, his hand tightening around the Priest's throat. "I am a husband. And you just tried to kill the only reason I stay human."
Alaric didn't kill him. Instead, he threw the Priest across the cave like a piece of trash. "Go. Tell your church that the Spear is broken. Tell them that if they ever look at Felina again, I will not stop until the temple is ashes."
The Paladins grabbed their broken leader and scrambled out into the night, terrified for their lives.
The Attentive King
Once they were gone, the silence was heavy. Alaric's shoulder was bleeding badly. He stumbled, but I caught him.
"Alaric! You're hurt!" I cried, trying to lead him back to the warm water.
He didn't look at his wound. He only looked at me. His hands traveled over my face, my arms, and my waist. He was checking for every scratch, his eyes wide and frantic.
"Did they hit you? Are you cold? Felina, tell me!"
"I'm fine, Alaric! It's you who is bleeding!"
He pulled me into a crushing embrace, burying his face in my neck. He was shaking. The Great Dragon King was trembling because he had almost lost me again. For the rest of the night, he refused to let me move. He carried me to the bed, wrapped me in three fur blankets, and sat by my side, holding my hand so tight it left a mark.
He was so attentive it was almost overwhelming. He brought me water every five minutes. He checked my pulse. He watched me sleep as if he were a gargoyle guarding a treasure.
A Taste of the Modern World
The next morning, the cave was peaceful again. Alaric was finally resting, his shoulder bandaged by my own hands. I wanted to do something for him. I wanted to show him that I loved him, not as a Queen, but as Felina.
I found some flour, salt, and wild eggs in the travel bags. I also found some wild honey and some berries from near the spring.
'In my world,' I thought, 'when someone is hurt, we make them something sweet and warm.'
I used a flat stone over the fire to make Pancakes. It was a simple "Modern World" food, but in this world of heavy meat and dry bread, it was like magic. I cooked them until they were golden brown, then drizzled the wild honey and crushed berries over the top.
The smell of the sweet batter filled the cave. Alaric woke up, his nose twitching. He sat up, his chest bare, the shimmering scales on his jaw glowing in the firelight.
"What is that scent?" he asked, his voice low and curious. "It smells... like summer."
I brought the plate to him. "It's a food from my world, Alaric. We call them pancakes. I made them for you."
He looked at the soft, fluffy cakes with suspicion. He picked one up with his fingers—he didn't use a fork—and took a bite.
His golden eyes widened. He stopped chewing for a second, then quickly finished the whole thing.
"It's soft," he whispered, looking at the plate. "And sweet. It doesn't taste like the palace food. It tastes like... you."
He pulled me into his lap, ignoring his sore shoulder. He fed me a piece, then finished the rest of the plate in seconds. The "spicy" tension returned to his eyes as he licked a drop of honey from his thumb.
"If this is what your world eats," Alaric murmured, his lips brushing my ear, "then I understand why you are so sweet, Felina. You must promise me something."
"What?" I asked, leaning into his heat.
"You will never cook this for anyone else," he growled, his possessive side coming out. "This taste... this memory... it belongs only to the Dragon."
I laughed and kissed him, the taste of honey and home between us. For a moment, we forgot about the Church and the "Book." We were just two people sharing a meal in a hidden cave.
But as I looked at the Dragon Heart Stone, I saw a tiny flicker. The "System" was watching. The peace wouldn't last forever.