The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 33

Chapter 33: In His Arms

MIRAEL’S POV

Claim

All I could do was watch as he carried her in his arms like she was something fragile, something

precious.

Every movement Kierygan made radiated protectiveness-concern etched into every line of him, fury simmering just beneath the surface because Eirlys was hurt. And something else I couldn’t

name, but felt deep in my bones.

In all the years I’d known him, strength was everything to him. He demanded it, revered it. Weakness wasn’t just unwelcome-it was repulsive to him. He was ruthless, fierce, unflinching.

But now, he was being tender.

And he was showing it to her.

That wisp of a girl, who had no right surviving the tower-let alone wriggling her way into his fiercely guarded orbit.

I stood frozen at the edge of the courtyard, unable to look away. The sight of her in his arms made something primal snap behind my ribs. If rage could take form, I’d have torn the palace stone from

stone.

As if her mere existence weren’t offense enough, that insolent, wide-eyed little creature-barely more than skin and bones-had the audacity to wrap those bony arms around his neck.

Her gaze locked into mine.

And she smiled. Not with her mouth. No, she wouldn’t be that bold. But the tilt of her chin, the soft press of her cheek against his shoulder, the way her fingers curled like she belonged there.

It was a message: I’ve won.

She didn’t need to speak it. I heard it all the same. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sweet, helpless girl from the tower was learning to play the game. And she was playing it with me.

She used to flinch when I entered a room. Drop her gaze. Shrink.

Now she held my stare.

She wasn’t just gaining confidence. She was fighting back.

And Kierygan didn’t even notice. Or worse-he did, and he liked it.

My jaw ached from how tightly I clenched it. I tasted iron on my tongue.

That was my mistake-I let emotion get the better of me. First, when I saw him licking her wounds.

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* Chapter 33 in His Arms

Then again, when I found them in his study, locked h each other’s arms. Both times, she was glowing. Radiant. Alive.

I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t want to just wound her. I wanted her gone. But it backfired. And now… now she’s back in his arms.

If I want Kierygan back, I’ll have to be smarter. Colder.

The voice in my head hisses: better she lives and suffers than dies.

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If anything were to happen to her, suspicion would fall on me. That pesky tutor of hers has already implied as much.

So, no more reckless emotion.

Only strategy.

“You alright, Mirael?” Evander’s voice rang in my ears, snapping me from my thoughts. “You look like you’re about to combust. I’d step back before you stain the floor.”

Danaiah and Solara stood beside him, both wearing that same smug glint in their eyes. I couldn’t

care less what they thought.

I said nothing. Just turned and walked away-each step slow, deliberate.

Inside, fury churned just beneath my skin, hot and clawing. And I could feel their eyes on my back the entire way to my chambers.

I slammed the door behind me.

The sound cracked through the air like a whip-but it did nothing to soothe the rage crawling

beneath my skin.

I tore the cloak from my shoulders and flung it across the room. It struck the mirror. It rattled but

didn’t break. Shame. I wanted it to shatter.

I wanted everything to shatter.

My reflection stared back-wild eyes, flushed cheeks, hair in disarray. I looked unhinged. Ruined.

And it was her fault.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, elbows on my knees, breath coming fast.

Fifteen years.

That’s how long I stood beside him. When our kingdom was ash and smoke. When we were hunted, hated. When he had nothing and no one-I was there.

I remember how he looked at me then. Young. Furious. Grieving. His voice cracked when he said.

he didn’t want to be alone. Didn’t want to be the last dragon.

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Chapter 33 13 His Arms

So we made a plan. It was mostly mine, but he agreed.

Claim

He was the last male. I still carried dragon blood-thin, but present. Together, we would rebuild. Repopulate. Forge a new bloodline.

The only problem? Our souls wouldn’t bind. Even after every rite, every attempt-it never took.

Still, I thought… maybe when we reclaimed our home. Maybe then.

But he didn’t want to try again.

And I know why.

Eirlys.

From the moment I saw her, something felt off. The way he guided her into the palace-filthy,

trembling-and placed her in his wing.

His wing.

No one goes there. Not even me. But he made room for her.

I should’ve stopped it then. Kept her out-of his wing, his thoughts, his arms.

But I waited. I was patient. I thought she’d fade. Frightened little thing that she was. I thought he’d grow tired of her, like he always does with strays.

Instead… there’s a shift. Something is forming between them.

And now everything I’ve built is unraveling.

My voice cracked in the silence, barely a whisper, venom threaded through it: “I gave him everything. And he gives her… this?”

My place at his side. Our future. The legacy we were meant to forge-gone.

Unless I stop it.

“I’ll take back what’s mine.”

KIERYGAN’S POV

The corridors were mostly quiet, the palace hushed beneath the weight of a lazy noon sun. I moved quickly, but carefully, her body cradled against mine.

Her arms stayed looped around my neck-whether she’d forgotten to let go or simply didn’t want to, I wasn’t sure. Every time she shifted or let out a faint whimper of pain, my grip instinctively

tightened.

She was too light.

3/5

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Chapter 33 15 His Arms

Too soft.

When I reached her chamber, the door was already swinging open. Emma stood waiting just

inside, holding a silver tray with a steaming porcelain cup.

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“The tea you requested, Your Highness,” she said, casting Eirlys a worried glance before bowing and placing it on the nightstand.

I recognized the scent instantly-Sindlethorn. A rare herb that dulled pain and loosened the mind. Not dangerous, but potent. Dream-heavy. In the right dose, it could tease truths from even the most guarded tongues.

I said nothing as Emma slipped away, nudging the door shut behind me with my boot.

Eirlys blinked up at me, still half-dazed, her brows drawing together as I lowered her gently onto the bed. Her fingers lingered around my neck for a moment before falling away.

“Drink that,” I said, propping her against the pillows. It’ll dull the soreness and help you sleep.”

Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Sleep? It’s not even nighttime.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“But I don’t want to sleep yet,” she muttered, voice faint.

I exhaled through my nose, jaw tightening. She hadn’t even touched the tea and already she was talking back. Bolder now. Testing edges.

“Drink. It,” I said, sharper this time.

That quieted her. She glared at the cup like it had personally offended her, then let out a reluctant

sigh.

“Fine,” she muttered again.

She pushed herself upright with more effort than she’d ever admit. She didn’t make a sound, but the way her face contorted told me everything-she was in pain.

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