Copyright © 2018 by Clara Hartley
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Epilogue
Annex
Thank you for reading!
Valerie
Prologue
Aereala waited, craning her neck up to the purple sky.
It had been a long while since she’d seen her lover. She tipped cool liquid to her lips. It was sweet, with rich layers no one would find on earth. It was also an imagination, a figment of her mind, like all things were.
With power, came loneliness, and the person meant to keep her company was too busy losing himself in his fun, traipsing through the physical realm.
She gazed through the grass—it turned translucent when she willed it. Through it, she saw the world. She used to care little for the dragons and humans, only wishing to spend her days with Gaean. But her lover had put so much of himself into their creations that she adored them.
And now he wouldn’t cease creating. But he also wanted his artworks vanquished because he could be so fickle-minded.
She laughed when they laughed, cried when they did. Her heart ripped open when she saw Sera, her favorite creation, weeping into the arms of her loved ones because of what was to come; Gaean had forced the goddess to have to hurt her.
Aereala continued to wait. She had honed her patience through eternity. A few extra minutes should be nothing, but since she had not seen Gaean for so long, her ethereal heart couldn’t stop racing in her chest.
“Did you plan my coming back?” he asked.
She inhaled a sharp breath and spun toward the direction of his voice. It had been too long. He grinned at her. His eyes were so blue, they shone with the colors of the rainbow, and his hair so white it caught glittering fractals from the purple skies.
“Gaean,” she breathed. She ran up to him, using her magic to propel her forward, and pulled him into her embrace. “I missed you.” It was thundering in her chest, and it must have been raining down in the physical realm, too.
“I missed you too, love.” His eyes sparkled. They always did with an endless amount of playfulness that was impossible to ever wither away.
If he’d just decide to stop fighting against her, to stay with her till the end of time, no more heartache would come to pass. But she knew the nature of his being, and no amount of begging would be able to stop him for long. She had to fix things through her own volition, thus Sera had to die.
Gaean kissed the protrusion of her collarbone. He kissed her neck. His presence ran across her like fire and ice; after what must have been centuries, everywhere he touched made her liquid. It was nothing compared to the entities she’d created to pleasure herself—they were all false imitations of him.
He shared the same sentiments. “Of all the women who’ve had me, you are the one worthy.”
She growled and pulled him closer to her. “Then don’t give yourself to them.” Gaean and she cared little for their bouts with lesser beings, or at least, that was what they’d agreed upon, but looking at Gaean gallivanting while she was alone often soured her mood.
Gaean chuckled, the sound like the rippling of waves. “You know me when I get that way.”
Gaean ran his finger across her torso, and just like that, he’d removed the garments she liked to play dress-up with. She had little need to clothe herself—there was no one here to see her, and the hollow figures she made often had no care for nudity. But she liked mimicking the dragon-kind below. She'd grown used to watching them over the years, almost like characters in a play or novel she wanted to be part of.
He lifted her up by her waist and brought his nose to her cheeks. And then they spun.
They circled each other, not as bodies, but as corporeal forms that coalesced in power. They were both made of different essences, but when they combined, they sparked magic itself, their powers humming in tune.
It was not long before they had to part because they were too different. Pink and blue mist were forced apart and briefly colored the purple skies blue. They could have lasted longer together if Gaean had not given up so much of himself to his creations.
“I must go soon,” Gaean said. His voice trembled with the weight of life itself. “I must be with them. And . . . some part of me . . . the crazy one . . . he wants to destroy them.”
“Destroy them?” He was going to rob her of the two things she loved the most! Her heart moaned with sorrow. “Why must you do this?”
“This is who I am.”
“I can’t let you.”
Gaean was weak now—he had put too much into his dragons and creatures, which meant she could subdue him. She could not let him take away the last thing that meant anything to her. Her pink mist churned with both regret and ferocity and wrapped around his blue essence.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I shouldn’t have delayed this. It is to protect you and them.”
She swung him away to a separate realm, trapping him in his physical form in which he would be unable to expand his view across the Drae Lands. His eyes filled with confusion and anger as he fell from her and onto the brown plains.
They were the plains he had taken away from her so many years ago.
“Goodbye, my love,” Aereala said. She misted back into the form of a woman and blew Gaean a kiss.
Gaean would find a way back. He always did. But this would buy her more time.
Chapter One
A large stretch of dead crops stood before me in the Emilia region.
I blew out a controlled breath and stretched out my hand, appreciating the cool winds in these fields. Looking down, I lifted the flap of my soul bead satchel. My magic lay in there, a small fortune at my hip.
I raised my hands and chanted my spell. "Ad vitalis, restirante amina et grisoras mortarem desturecets."
Wispy, golden threads moved from the soul beads. They stopped at my fingertips and whirled. They followed the directions of the breeze and floated to the ashen crops. Quickly, the magic circled the fields and encompassed it with an ephemeral glow.
I sensed Aereala's essence working through me. It hummed through my being, then exploded in bright colors through my vision. Exhaustion crept through my bones after I finished the spell. I was rewarded by my efforts with swaths of golden fields.
I lowered my hands and breathed out a soft sigh. The golden fields I stood before were a testament to the power the go
ddess had invested in me. She’d created a spell only for me, allowing me to bring back the dead plants. Nobody else had the ability because they didn’t have Aereala’s essence like I did. Not even the princes could bring the plants back to life, and they were some of the most skilled users of soul magic in our country, Constanria.
A year ago, the crops in the Jura region turned to ash. Beyestirya, our neighboring country, suffered the same problem, and both nations faced the threat of a famine. It almost led to war on both sides, but I found out I was a goddess's vessel, and through visions with Aereala, I'd created a solution.
The crops still died, but with my new spell I’d invented with Aereala, I fed the common folk. Over the past year, this solution had kept both Beyestirya and Constanria afloat. We'd given some grain to the rebels to appease them, too. They weren’t the nicest people, but once we made sure our own subjects could survive, we shared. It was a given that the fewer deaths, the better.
The executioner’s ax neared every day. We lived on borrowed time.
At least I was.
Aereala would come down and take my body to restore the balance, eventually. These spells served as a temporary solution not the cure.
Thankfully, the goddess saw reason. She gave me an opportunity to look upon wonderful golden fields before I died. She had the decency to warn me before putting the ax to my head. How nice.
Her kind warning didn’t stop me from flicking my middle finger up in the air and cursing her name whenever I got frustrated or mad. The goddess sometimes replied by sending a bolt of lightning or the crash of thunder through the sky, reminding me she stood above, watching.
I massaged my shoulders and stretched before rubbing my eyes. Rylan, in his black dragon form, had been circling the fields, waiting for me as I worked my magic. He landed behind me, scales rippling, and breathed a gravelly noise. I knew he was trying to tell me I’d been impressive. He always said the same thing once I finished.
I smiled and strode toward his dragon form. He wrapped a tail around my waist and lifted me to his back. I sank into the warm comfort of his scales. I’d gotten used to being on their backs over the past year. They’d made me accustomed to them, and I hummed my satisfaction.
Rylan’s wings, leathery and smooth to the touch, flapped in the warm Constanrian winds as he flew. I brushed my fingers past the fluffy clouds, enjoying the calm sensation of being so high up.
“I am going to need a long shower after this,” I said. “A cold one, to wake me up.” My eyelids felt heavy. They always did whenever I’d finished restoring a field. There was something oddly comforting about laying on the back of a warm dragon while being this sleepy.
A chuckle rumbled from the dragon. I guessed Rylan was thinking about yesterday, when Kael tried to sneak into my shower, and I’d hit him over the head with a bottle of soap. I was still clothed, of course. He’d been talking about getting into the shower with me, but so far, I hadn’t let him. I wasn’t sure why. He’d seen all the parts of me. Maybe I just liked being a tease.
The beautiful peaks of the palace shone like a beacon, calling me home, but there was a bleakness to it. Much of the greenery around the city had been destroyed by ash. Mainly, I used my power on the fields because it didn’t make sense to restore decorative plants. I had a set limit I could use every day and using it often wore me down.
Rylan landed on a huge platform that jutted out from the side of the palace. Yellow glowed from him as he shifted back from his dragon form, his bones clicking in place, crunching into their smaller human counterparts. Less than a minute later, the human Rylan—the one with elegant features and a predatory gaze—stood in front of me. He often had a neat braid tied in his hair, but since he'd just shifted back, his locks fell more unruly than usual. I liked him this way, too. He stretched, and his muscles lengthened. His body was molded perfectly, embellished with tattooed lines that smoothed downward toward his . . .
He was impressive. Still hadn’t gotten used to it yet. I didn’t think I ever would. When I stared at the dragon princes too long, I inflated their egos.
One time, Kael took bets on how long I'd take to look away after they shifted back. Rylan didn't participate, but Gaius and Micah had thrown some silvers into the hat.
Unluckily for him, nobody won, and Frederick had swiftly ended the game by interrupting my staring. He had barreled toward me with good news from the Council of Intelligence, and I couldn’t ignore him because he wore a big, bright smile.
Rylan padded over to his satchel where he took out his pants. He slipped them on.
When Rylan turned toward me, he wore a devilish smirk that could turn any woman to a puddle. He brushed his hand through his hair and walked toward me before swinging an arm over my shoulder. His body was warmer than usual, perhaps from just shifting back from his dragon form.
“Tired?” he asked.
I yawned. “Little bit. Your arm is kind of heavy.” Every part of him was. The other princes were, too, because they were all made of rippling, condensed muscle. I couldn’t count how many times I nearly died when they slept in my bed and rolled on top of my body. Their weights, probably twice as much as mine, pressed down on my smaller frame and made it impossible to breathe.
He licked his lower lip before tracing a thumb over it. “Pity,” he said.
I lifted a brow. “Why?”
“You know what happens whenever I just shift back.”
My cheeks reddened with a deep blush. When the princes shifted back from their dragon forms, they felt the need to mate. Rylan dropped his gaze to my chest before trailing it lower. My throat felt dry when he slipped his arm around the back of my knees and lifted me up in his embrace. He cradled me as he strode across the balcony and into the palace. Birds flew around us, cawing as they flapped through the auburn sunset.
I pressed my hand against his chest. “Don’t you think this is a bit too much?”
“Nonsense. You’re our queen. Queens get to be carried around.”
“Uh huh.” Rylan had given me the title of queen anyway, much to Miriel Everborne’s, the Queen Dowager’s, dismay. Since he was king now, Rylan could do almost anything he wanted, and the councils couldn’t really disapprove of his orders. I’d been saving their lives by using my powers.
We were at a good place. People didn’t worship me like I deserved to be—without me, they’d all have starved to death—but they’d stopped detesting me so much. Making sure I got the grain into their bellies helped a ton with the way people viewed me. They couldn’t really say I was the curse anymore. Why would Aereala bless me with this power if she wanted to use me as a curse?
I was the solution. It was a terrible solution, since I had to die for it to work, but we had a few more years ahead of us and we could use that to find an alternative.
I hoped with all my heart we would.
Some servants strode by and glanced at us. They noticed how Rylan treated me like some princess, how he spoiled me. They giggled and shuffled away, carrying cleaning equipment in their hands. A year ago, they probably would’ve stared aghast at the sight and blamed me for blaspheming the Everborne name. These days, our being together was little more than palace gossip.
I sank into Rylan’s arms, relaxing.
We’d moved from the prince’s quarters to the main palace building since Rylan had to be closer to his administrative duties. He’d taken the day off just to spend time with me, which I found incredibly touching.
He lowered his head, nuzzled his nose on my cheek, then sucked in a deep breath.
“You keep doing that,” I said.
“It’s your fault,” he replied, still wearing his teasing grin. He was in a good mood today. No complaints from either council had come. There were one or two assholes who still couldn’t get over themselves. They often sent in letters that Rylan liked to burn. Sometimes I burned them with him, wasting some soul magic in the process. Entirely worth it to let off some steam. “You smell like fresh snow today. It’s nice.”
/>
And Rylan always smelled like ash, smoke, fire.
“It’s a new perfume from Vanjar.”
His voice was cool and came with a low, pleased growl that made my toes curl when he replied, “That explains it. You should wear it more. I like it.” His teasing grin fell into something warmer. He settled the cool blue of his eyes on me and placed me down in front of my room. Our room. The princes deemed it to be ours because it was the only one with the huge bed. They all had their own separate ones. It could get too warm with four dragon men sleeping in the same bed. Some privacy was sometimes required.
He leaned me against the wall and enclosed me between his arms. The heat of his need emanated from him, trickling toward me.
“Rylan?” I asked.
“Perhaps a quick romp?” he replied, nipping my lower earlobe before backing away slightly to blow a hot, ticklish breath of air against it. He sank his face into the nape of my neck, and a soft purr shook from him, vibrating through my body. “Or are you too tired, love?”
“Depends,” I said, tracing a feathery touch down Rylan’s bicep. I noticed the way my touch made his eyes flare, how his chest expanded. “Will I be doing the work?”
“I’ll do the pleasuring,” he said. “You just have to lay there and react to my touch. That, my love, is enough to drive my dragon crazy.”
I stifled a moan when Rylan lifted my right leg and hefted it over himself, forcing me to wrap around him. “I’ll be gentle,” he promised. He pressed his hips against me, so I had no choice but to feel his length.
Fall of Dragons (Sera's Curse Book 3) Page 1