The Dragon King and His Fallen Star novel Chapter 71

Chapter 71: Siren’s Spirit, Dragon’s Fury

KIERYGAN’S POV

I looked down at Eirlys, asleep against me, her knees tucked gently across my lap. A small, unbidden smile tugged at my lips.

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After everything–the tavern, the storm, the uneasy sense of being watched–this quiet moment

felt… rare. Precious.

Choosing to travel by carriage, slow and steady as it was, was the right decision after all. It gave

me this: a reason to hold her close.

After a long, jarring journey, we finally arrived.

I shifted carefully, not wanting to wake her too abruptly, then leaned in and nudged her shoulder. ” Eirlys,” I murmured.

Her eyes fluttered open, soft with confusion and sleep.

“We’re here,” I said. “This is Obsidia, the capital of Morvanya.”

She blinked, then turned to the window. I watched as her eyes widened.

Obsidia unfolded before us in the fading light like an ancient, sleeping giant. Spires of dark stone pierced the twilight sky, their sharp silhouettes glowing with flickering lanterns and rune–lit sconces. Narrow canals cut through the city like black ribbons, their waters reflecting torchlight and the silvery gleam of moonstones set into the streets.

The buildings, hewn from obsidian and polished basalt, shimmered with a dark luster–like a fortress built of shadows and stars. High walls circled the capital, their ramparts lined with guards and rune–torches burning cold blue.

And above it all, carved into the jagged mountainside, loomed Lucius‘ palace–its towers aglow with soft silver and violet light.

“It looks… beautiful,” she whispered, her breath misting the glass.

Beautiful, yes. But also dangerous.

I reached for her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze “Stay close to me,” I said quietly. “Obsidia is not as forgiving as it looks.”

The carriages rolled to a stop before the towering obsidian gates of Lucius‘ palace. Rows of armored guards stood at attention, their black–and–silver uniforms catching the flicker of lantern light. As the gates creaked open with a deep, resonant groan, two figures became visible at the top of the grand entrance stairs, lined on either side by torches burning with violet flame.

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I stepped down first, then turned and offered my hand to Eirlys as she emerged, clutching Nibbles‘ cage tightly against her chest. Ulyanna and Evander descended close behind.

King Lucius stood tall and regal, draped in robes of midnight black embroidered with silver filigree. His long golden hair fell in a straight curtain down his back, and his sharp golden eyes gleamed with quiet amusement as they settled on Eirlys.

At his side stood his son, Prince Draven–Evander’s older brother. The resemblance was

unmistakable, though Draven’s beauty was colder, more angular, his expression tinged with

mischief. A slow smirk curled his lips the moment his gaze landed on her.

“Dragon King,” Lucius said, his voice smooth and sonorous, echoing softly across the stone

courtyard. “Welcome to Morvanya.”

Then his gaze shifted to Eirlys, and his smile warmed. “And you, my lady–it’s a pleasure to see you

again.”

Prince Draven stepped forward without waiting for an introduction, his focus fixed entirely on her.

“You look even more radiant than the last time we met,” he drawled, ignoring the rest of us. He took her hand and pressed a kiss to her knuckles–his lips lingering longer than courtesy allowed.

Eirlys blinked, caught off guard. Her cheeks flushed a soft pink as she glanced up at me, uncertain, before turning back to the prince.

“Um… thank you,” she said softly.

Something dark and sharp coiled in my chest as Draven’s gaze swept over her face with open fondness. I clenched my jaw to keep myself from driving my talons straight through his ribcage.

Ulyanna cast me a quick sidelong glance, but said nothing. She inclined her head politely to the Vampire King and Prince, her expression smooth as ever.

Evander finally scoffed. “You can let go of her hand now, Draven.”

Draven chuckled–low, unbothered–but finally released her, stepping back with a lingering glance at Eirlys before turning to his brother. “Welcome home, little brother.”

Evander’s face remained unreadable. “This hasn’t been my home for a long time,” he said evenly. And it never will be again.”

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King Lucius cleared his throat, breaking the tension as his gaze lingered on Kierygan, then Eirlys. You’ve had a long journey,” he said smoothly. “Come inside. Rest. Business waits until tomorrow- tonight, we feast.”

We followed the vampires into the palace. The feast hall was vast, illuminated by hundreds of lanterns that hung from the arched stone ceiling. Long tables filled the chamber below, but Lucius had arranged a more private feast for us in a raised alcove that overlooked the entire hall.

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I sat beside Eirlys, with Evander on her other side and Ulyanna next to him. Lucius took the head of the table, while Draven sat directly across from Eirlys, leaning forward with his chin resting lazily on his hand, gazing at her like a cat watching a trembling bird.

“So tell me,” Draven purred, swirling his goblet of blood–dark wine, “is this your first time travelling

outside Altierra?”

Eirlys took a shy sip from her goblet before nodding. “Yes.”

His eyes brightened. “Then I’d be honored to give you a proper tour of the capital.”

Evander’s lips curled, though his voice was edged with cold steel. “She’ll pass,” he said smoothly. “I

can show her around myself.”

Draven chuckled, a low, amused sound. “But Obsidia has changed since you left,” he said, tilting his head at Evander. “As you said yourself, this is no longer your home. So who better to show her

around than someone who actually lives here?”

Then he turned his gaze back to Eirlys, his eyes gleaming with interest. “What do you say, Eirlys?”

She shifted uncomfortably under his stare, fingers tightening around her goblet. Slowly, she glanced up at me, as if silently asking for help.

Draven’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Do you have to ask your king’s permission for everything?”

My jaw tightened, muscles coiling with barely restrained fury. The thought of her wandering Obsidia with Draven sent a dangerous heat through my veins. But I forced my voice to remain calm, clipped.

“She can decide for herself,” I said coldly, eyes locked with his. “As long as it does not put her in

danger.”

Draven’s smile widened, sharp and pleased. He turned his attention back to Eirlys, his gaze raking

over her with undisguised interest. “Well then,” he purred, leaning forward slight as he asked again, “what do you say, Eirlys?”

She swallowed, her fingers trembling around her goblet. After a moment, she nodded softly. “I… I would love to.”

His smile curved into something more predatory. “Don’t worry,” he said, flashing his fangs with deliberate slowness. “I don’t bite… unless you ask nicely.”

A furious growl rose in my throat, my vision tinged with red, but before I could speak, Lucius cleared his throat, his deep voice slicing through the tension.

“So, Your Majesty,” Lucius said smoothly, shifting the conversation with a calculated ease, “tell me, have you caught the witch who cast a spell on my men?”

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Reluctantly, I tore my eyes from Draven, forcing myself to focus as the dinner dissolved into a blur of political discussions, negotiations, and polite laughter. Beneath the table, my hand curled into a fist, talons itching to unsheathe.

Then, suddenly, there was a soft clatter.

The delicate sound of silverware striking marble echoed sharply through the hall. All conversation

halted.

I turned sharply to her.

She sat frozen, staring down at her empty hands. Her cheeks were flushed a deep, feverish pink, her eyes wide and distant.

“Eirlys?” I asked, keeping my voice low so only she could hear. “Are you alright?”

She turned to me, her eyes glassy and unfocused. “… I feel… hot,” she whispered, her voice

trembling. “I don’t feel good.”

A deep frown creased my brow. I scanned her plate, searching for anything that might have

triggered such a reaction, but nothing stood out. Then my gaze fell on her goblet, nearly empty, a faint pink residue clinging to the inside.

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