The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 115

Chapter 115: The Seat at His Side

MIRAEL

+25 Points

Mirael’s steps were measured, her silken skirts brushing the floor as she swept toward the meeting chamber. Kierygan’s summons had been abrupt, but she did not mind. Any chance to be

near him was worth the disruption.

But her stride faltered the instant she crossed the threshold. Her gaze locked on the chair.

Her chair.

The one at Kierygan’s right hand. The seat reserved for the lady of the house, the place she had

claimed in council after council, the position that set her above the rest.

It was occupied. By her.

Eirlys sat there as though the seat had been hers all along. Even her fat, pampered rabbit had claimed the table, gnawing at the parchment before Kierygan-and he did not so much as scowl.

Mirael’s gaze fixed on her, the girl radiant in her true fae form, the glow of it making her stomach knot. A gift of the mating bond, no doubt. Her eyes fell next to the mark at Eirlys’s throat, glaring at her like a brand of triumph. Mirael’s nails bit into her palm, fury flaring hot and sharp.

Once again, the girl had taken what was meant to be hers.

She swallowed the anger, smoothing it beneath a smile she’d perfected over the years. With practiced ease, she let her hips sway as she crossed the chamber, each step deliberate, a quiet assertion of her presence.

She slipped gracefully into the empty chair beside Eirlys, reclining as her gaze swept the table. When she spoke, her voice dripped like poisoned honey, casual yet meant to sting.

“Well,” Mirael purred, her words carrying easily across the chamber, “what a surprise to find you here. I should warn you, these meetings can be dreadfully dull for those not… accustomed to weighty matters. You might find yourself terribly bored.”

Eirlys didn’t even blink. She rested her hand lightly atop Kierygan’s, calm and composed. “I spent most of my life sitting alone in a dark tower,” she said softly. “I don’t bore easily.”

Mirael clenched her teeth, frustration flaring as her veiled insult failed to land. She forced a smile,

but it faltered when a glint between Eirlys’ fingers caught her eye.

Her gaze sharpened, the chamber fading from her awareness as the object revealed itself beneath the light: a ring. Diamond. Elegant. Gleaming.

Her stomach dropped and twisted, a dozen thoughts colliding at once. A ring? From Kierygan?

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< Chapter 115 The Seat at His Side

+25 Points

The air thickened around her, the low hum of the council room swallowed by the roar of her pulse. Had Kierygan actually proposed? Was a marriage underway? And if so… was this meeting called to

announce it?

Kierygan finally lifted his gaze from the parchments, eyes sharp and cold, and Mirael felt the full weight of them.

“Be careful how you speak of my mate,” he said, low and controlled, each word carrying the kind of authority that brooked no argument. “Do you remember what happened last time you tested that?”

Mirael’s pulse skipped, the memory stinging with old humiliation.

His attention flicked briefly to Eirlys, softening ever so slightly, before returning to Mirael. “Move,” he said, nodding toward the next seat. “Someone else will occupy that chair from now on.”

Mirael’s composure wavered for a heartbeat, irritation and disbelief flashing across her features. It was one thing to lose her usual place beside him-now she had to move even further back.

“Who?” she asked, a note of challenge creeping into her voice.

As if on cue, the chamber door opened, and a figure stepped inside. Scylla moved with cautious steps, then offered a polite bow. “Apologies for the wait,” she said softly. “I’m still learning my way

around the castle.”

Her gaze swept over the table, lingering briefly on Eirlys. The slight flicker in the seer’s eyes confirmed what Mirael had suspected: whispers of Eirlys restoring her sight were true.

Kierygan’s hand made a subtle motion toward the seat beside Eirlys. Mirael stiffened, but with a controlled exhale, she rose and slid into the next chair, masking her irritation.

Scylla eased into the seat, then bent slightly to scratch the rabbit’s belly as it lounged atop the table. Nibbles twitched in delight before settling back into contented stillness.

Kierygan cleared his throat, drawing the council’s attention. “Scylla will be joining us as a new member of the Small Council,” he announced, his voice steady, carrying authority. “She will serve

as the resident seer, a role our kingdom has long needed.”

Mirael tilted her head, feigning curiosity. “Aren’t Ravari witches supposed to be wanderers?” she

asked, her tone laced with subtle skepticism.

“We go where we are needed,” she said simply. “And right now, I am needed here.”

Scylla’s gaze lingered on Mirael. “There’s something familiar about you,” the seer murmured, eyes

scanning her intently. “I can’t quite place it…”

Mirael leaned back, a sharpened smirk tugging at her lips. “Ah, of course, you can’t,” she replied coolly. “Like so many other things you fail to figure out.”

Chapter 115: The Seat at His Side

+25 Points

Evander’s sudden hiss cut through the room, a sharp warning aimed at Mirael. “Watch your tongue, “he snapped, eyes narrowing.

Scylla merely shrugged at the interruption and returned her attention to Mirael. “Do not worry,” she said softly, almost conspiratorially. “Everything will come to me in time. It always does.”

Mirael’s smirk faltered for the briefest of moments an uncharacteristic ripple of doubt brushing her carefully maintained composure.

The council proceeded, voices rising and falling as strategies were laid out, maps rolled open, and reports passed across the long table. But Mirael hardly registered a word. Her gaze kept straying, too often, toward the head of the table, where Kierygan and Eirlys sat far too close.

They thought they were being subtle. Fingers brushing beneath the table, Eirlys’s glow faintly pulsing in the lines of her palm where it touched his hand. Mirael’s teeth pressed together so tightly her jaw ached. She forced herself not to scowl, but the sight burned into her skull.

When she forced her eyes away, they found Scylla instead. The newcomer. Mirael’s skin prickled every time the seer’s gaze lingered on her-steady, unblinking, far too knowing. Did she see something? Did she know?

Mirael leaned back, masking the unease with an idle tilt of her lips. At least, she thought, no proclamation had been made. No wedding announced. No queen declared. Not yet.

Suddenly, a voice curled through her mind, and Mirael went rigid.

Her head snapped up, breath lodging in her throat as Morwenna’s tone unfurled within her skull like

a caress.

“You must come to me at once,” the voice purred, slick and silken in the hollow of her thoughts. “Our

Lord calls for us.”

Her pulse stumbled, then raced. Fingers tightened around the goblet before her, its rim biting into her palm as her gaze flicked around the table. No one did; the others were too enmeshed in

Kierygan’s words, in the shifting of strategy.

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