by Jasmine Walt
But Lucyan winked at her, and that tiny show of confidence evaporated the hesitation. The princes were counting on her—no, the kingdom was counting on her. She would not fail them.
Dareena took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I choose all of them,” she said in a loud voice that carried through the entire hall. “The gods have blessed you with three sons to continue your line, and I will serve them all.”
Gasps of shock echoed in the hall, and the nobles began whispering amongst themselves. “This is blasphemy!” the king cried, his cheeks mottling with anger. “The Dragon’s Gift has never before served as consort to more than one male. This is unheard of!”
“That is only because there has never been more than one son in line for the throne, my king,” Dareena said. “Or at least, it has been that way since your line was cursed.”
“Silence!” the king thundered, and the room went utterly still. “I’ll pretend you never uttered such a disgusting thing from your whorish mouth. Now tell me who you’ve chosen, or gods help me, I will make the choice for you.”
“She has already made her choice,” Drystan said as he and his brothers flanked Dareena. “She has chosen all of us, and in turn, we choose her.”
The king laughed. “And what, the three of you are to become her little menagerie now, is that it? She’s got you more firmly beneath her thumb than I thought.” Sneering, he rose from his throne. “Since the three of you aren’t man enough to tame the whore standing before you, I shall take it upon myself to do so. Dareena Sellis shall become my consort, and she will bear me sons far better than the likes of you three!”
More gasps of shock echoed through the hall, the gallery absolutely scandalized by what they were hearing. Dareena wasn’t certain which notion appalled them most—the idea of Dareena marrying the king, or marrying all three brothers at once.
“The hell you will!” Lucyan snarled, pulling Dareena behind him. “You’ve had your filthy paws on her once already, Father. I’ll not let you do so again.”
“Please.” Alistair approached the dais, splaying his hands wide in a gesture of peace. “We don’t wish to quarrel with you, Father. We only want what is ours by right.”
“And what do you think that is?” the king barked. “The throne?” He threw back his head and laughed. “None of you deserve it.”
Before any of the princes could respond, the king drew a dagger from his belt and flung it straight at Alistair. Alistair tried to dodge, but the blade sank into his shoulder, and he roared in pain. The brothers drew their swords and charged, and Dareena threw herself to the ground as the king spewed a gout of fire from his breast.
“Out!” Tariana shouted as the hall erupted into pandemonium. She grabbed Dareena by the arm and hauled her through the exit. Terror banded around Dareena’s chest as she looked back to see King Dragomir shifting, his human body morphing into a giant dragon with shimmering green scales. His tail lashed this way and that, flinging furniture about while the guards rushed to evacuate everyone from the hall. One woman was hit in the back of the head by a crystal ornament as she fled, and she went down on the floor in a heap. Two men rushed to grab her and get her out before she got hit again.
“Lucyan!” Dareena cried as the king’s tail slammed into his torso. He crashed into the opposite wall, then went down in a heap, tangled up with the banner. Dareena tried to run toward him, but Tariana hauled her through a side door, then slammed it shut.
“There’s nothing you can do,” she panted. “You’ll only be in the way if you stay.”
Dareena’s eyes burned as she allowed Tariana to lead her away from the battle. She wished there was something more she could do for the brothers, but in the past week, she’d done all she could to strengthen them. It was up to them to use their power to subdue the king.
If they failed, they were all doomed.
32
“Dammit!” Drystan yelled as Lucyan crumpled to the ground. His brother was pale as death beneath the blood-red tapestry he’d brought down with him, and his eyes were closed. “Lucyan, wake up!”
He raced toward his brother, trying to get to him before his father could crush him. There was no humanity left in King Dragomir’s eyes now; he wouldn’t hesitate to kill them all. The king turned toward their fallen brother, his talons already coming down—
“Oh no you don’t!” Alistair cried. He plunged his sword into their father’s left flank. The king’s roar of pain and rage shook the walls, and as he whipped around to face their youngest brother, something in Drystan finally snapped. Fire surged through his veins, stronger, hotter than ever, and he screamed in pain and anger as his body seemed to splinter apart from the inside. Everything was twisting…changing…
Shifting, Drystan realized with awe as his field of vision grew broader. His neck and spine lengthened as wings sprouted from his back, and his hands and feet grew talons. Shimmering blue scales covered his newly formed body, and suddenly he could see a multitude of colors that hadn’t been visible to his human eyes before.
His father’s murderous gaze faltered, anger giving way to surprise. For a moment, Drystan caught a flash of what looked like pride in them. His father was still in there.
And yet, it was too late to go back. Too late to do anything but plow forward.
Roaring, Drystan launched himself at his father. The two crashed straight through the enormous glass window behind the dais and tumbled down the hillside. Drystan howled as his father’s claws dug into him, and he did the same, clinging to the bastard for dear life. If he let go, his father would get airborne, and he would be fucked.
But it seemed there was no stopping that. The king sank his talons deep into Drystan’s upper arms, then snapped out his wings and lifted off. Drystan struggled to release his father’s grip before they got too high, but the landscape shrank rapidly as they gained altitude. Dragon’s Keep and the surrounding city grew into tiny pinpricks. Panic surged through Drystan, and he lashed out with his tail, aiming for his father’s wings. He managed to slash at one with his spikes, and the king snarled as the thick membrane tore. Encouraged, Drystan did it a second time, this time aiming for the second wing. He missed the wing, but the spike on the end of his tail stabbed his father in the eye instead.
The king’s roar of pain seemed to shake the very sky, and his talons finally loosened from Drystan’s hide. Drystan’s heart leapt into his throat as he plummeted toward the ground. At first, he didn’t know what to do, but instinct kicked in, and his wings snapped out. He flapped them, trying to push himself up to where his father was, but they were too weak. He was forced to glide on the winds, leaving his back as a giant target for his father to land on.
Except he didn’t. Looking up, Drystan saw that his father wasn’t coming for him. Instead, he was flying away, heading straight for the Black Mountains at the western border.
Drystan couldn’t believe it. Their father was actually running away.
Clenching his jaw, Drystan did his best to bank toward the hillside where the keep was perched. He could feel hundreds of eyes on him as he closed in, citizens pointing and gawking at the newest dragon in their midst. Even though dragons ruled here, it was still a rare sight to see one. The king usually only shifted for the public a few times a year—the rest of the time, when he wanted to hunt as a dragon, he waited until he was already outside the city limits before he changed forms.
But that was the old King Dragomir. The new one had shifted right in the middle of the throne room, endangering the lives of his subjects as he’d tried to kill his own sons.
And all because he couldn’t bear to give up his crown.
“Drystan!” Dareena cried as he landed on the hillside. He lifted his head to see her running down the hillside, the skirts of her dress clutched in one hand. Tariana and Alistair were right on her heels, twin expressions of shock and relief on their faces.
Exhaustion rippled through Drystan, and just like that, he shifted back into human form. Naked, he collapse
d to the ground, his vision hazy. The shifting, the fighting, the flying—all of it had drained his strength away.
“You did it,” Alistair said as Dareena dropped to his side. “You actually fucking did it.”
Drystan grinned up at his brother as Dareena stroked his back. His wounds had healed during the shift, but there was still some residual pain, and her touch felt soothing. “Someone had to do it,” he said.
Alistair rolled his eyes. “I was about to, but you seemed like you had things in hand.”
“Hardly,” Tariana said, looking toward the horizon. Drystan knew her gaze was fixed on their father’s retreating form. “He’s going to come back, you know.”
“And we’ll be ready for him when he does,” Dareena said as she slung an arm over Drystan’s shoulder. She helped him to his feet, and Alistair offered him a cloak to wrap around his aching body. “The three of you will only get stronger as you continue to train. You’ll have to add flying practice to your list of things to accomplish,” she said with a smile as she kissed Drystan’s cheek. He chuckled at her ability to find humor even in a dire moment like this. “The last thing we need is for you to plant your face in the ground again.”
“Indeed.” Drystan looked toward the Keep. “Is Lucyan all right?” he asked, his stomach clenching as he remembered how his father had smashed his brother into the wall.
“He’s been taken to the infirmary,” Tariana said grimly. “I believe he only has a few broken bones—nothing life-threatening. But he’ll need a day or two to recover.”
“Tariana,” Alistair said slowly, getting all of their attention as he pointed toward the sky. “Is that Solara?”
Everybody turned to where Alistair was pointing. “Solara shouldn’t be here,” Tariana said, her face paling as they watched the dragon approach. “She is supposed to be running the troops in my absence.”
Solara’s red scales glinted in the morning sun as she flapped her wings, and within moments, she was touching down on the ground. “Bad news,” she panted after she’d shifted back into human form. She yanked a cloak out of the pack tied around her wrist and wrapped it around her naked body as she spoke. “Prince Arolas has taken over Elvenhame’s army. He’s killed and imprisoned half our forces. We’re preparing for another battle, but it’ll be our last.”
“Half our forces?” Alistair echoed, the horror in his voice echoing Drystan’s perfectly. Thousands dead or in chains…he felt sick to his stomach as he imagined the battlefield soaked with Dragonfell blood.
“Are any of our sisters among the dead?” Tariana demanded. She grabbed Solara by the shoulder when she did not immediately answer. “How many?”
“Three.” Solara’s eyes grew bright with unshed tears. “And two are badly wounded.”
“Fuck.” Tariana clenched her fists at her sides, trembling with anger. “You said Arolas is leading Elvenhame’s army now. What of Ryolas?”
“I don’t know,” Solara said, shaking her head. “He’s likely been arrested and is rotting in a dungeon. He’s certainly in no position to help us, and Arolas is out for blood. He’ll slaughter us if we meet him on the field.”
“There’s no need for a battle,” Drystan protested. “We’re more than happy to stand down. Our father just abandoned the throne. It is within our power to negotiate a surrender.”
“That’s all well and good,” Solara said wearily, “but the time for negotiating is past. The High King is sending an envoy here. They’ll be at our door in a matter of hours. He wants a hostage in exchange for sparing the soldiers he’s taken prisoner.”
“A hostage?” Tariana asked as a terrible feeling settled in Drystan’s chest. “Has he said who?”
“He has.” Solara met Dareena’s wide emerald eyes, and Drystan tightened his arm around her, holding her close. She couldn’t mean what she was about to say. She just couldn’t.
“No,” Alistair growled, stepping in front of Dareena. “Over my dead body.”
“Yes,” Solara said grimly. “He wants the Dragon’s Gift.”
To be continued…
Dareena’s story will continue in Dragon’s Blood, coming November 2017! Sign up for Jasmine’s newsletter so you can be notified when it comes out!
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ABOUT THE AUTHORS
JASMINE WALT is obsessed with books, gotcha, and sharp objects. Somehow, those three things melded together in her head and transformed into a desire to write, usually fantastical stuff with a healthy dose of action and romance. Her characters are a little (okay, a lot) on the snarky side, and they swear, but they mean well. Even the villains sometimes. When she isn’t chained to her keyboard, you can find her practicing her triangle choke on the jujitsu mat, spending time with her family, or binge-watching superhero shows on Netflix. You can learn more about her at www.jasminewalt.com
When she isn't writing about sassy women and alpha males, MAY SAGE can generally be found playing with her cats and her puppy, eating cake, or reading about sassy women and alpha males. Her first love is paranormal romance but she's not that faithful, so expect to find anything from shifters, princes and kings, to aliens and billionaires in her bibliography! Find her at www.marchsageauthor.com
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