Age of Gold Book One to Three: To Claim a King, To Catch a Prince, To Tame a Rogue (Tales of Midgard 1)

by May Sage

“Weren’t you the one who said something about resting?”

  He smirked, but didn’t call her out on ignoring his first observation.

  “I have some… fascinating reading to catch up on.”

  “Yeah?”

  He beckoned her over, tilting his head, and she tiptoed over, feeling so strange when she got close enough to smell his scent, and hear the beat of his hearts. Two hearts—his and his dragon’s; Demelza had explained that it was the way with shifters. To her, it just sounded like a hectic heart beat that matched her own.

  He’d been smarter than her, taking a duvet with him; only it was folded next to a small pile of books.

  “Mind if I grab that?” she asked, shyly taking a place on the bench next to him.

  “Shame. I rather like the view,” he teased, taking the cover, and throwing it over her shoulders and down to her feet. As the cover was large enough for both of them, he pulled the other side over his legs.

  “Do dragons even get cold?”

  “That’s a bloody stupid question. Of course we do—it just doesn’t harm us.”

  “You don’t sound very kingly tonight.”

  And she rather liked it; it felt like he was showing her Rhey Vasili, the guy, not the crown.

  “Speak to the king from dawn to dusk. Dusk to dawn, you’ll have to deal with me.”

  “That’s fair. And what shall I call you, then?”

  “Whatever you wish. Now, look at this,” he said, pointing to his book.

  It actually was more of a journal, written in a formal and elegant elvish hand. She could read it; her education had seen to that, but she ignored the words, her hand flying to the faded illustration that took over the right page. There was a woman, flying astride a dragon. The dragon wore a saddle, and the woman wore gear that Xandrie could see would help make the journey comfortable: long boots, and padding on her inner pants legs.

  “This is perhaps the only record of history we have about your kind.”

  “My kind?”

  “I’m not the best person to ask—until you came, the Elders kept all knowledge of dragon riders to themselves. They only told me about you a couple of weeks ago. I’ve been reading. This,” he said, pointing to the woman, “was my mother.”

  She listened to him telling her about long forgotten tales, and, at some point, she blinked. When she opened her eyes again, she was on her bed, and not alone.

  Xandrie lifted her head from the king’s chest, blushing furiously as she looked up to his sleeping frame. How very scandalous.

  “I can feel you looking at me,” he grumbled groggily, making her laugh.

  Rhey was so painfully beautiful she couldn’t bring herself to stop, not even when he opened his eyes and stared right back at her.

  “How did this happen?”

  “Well, I was telling you of fascinating things that bored you to tears, so you collapsed on me. Rather than letting you freeze—as I wasn’t leaving my blanket with you—I thought it wise to take you to your chambers, but, when I dropped you on your bed, you wouldn’t let go of my chest.”

  Ugh. She hid behind her hands. Someone kill her now.

  Rhey laughed, and gently pulled her hands away.

  “None of that. I like to see your eyes.”

  The man did very, very bad things to her poor heart. She wasn’t well practiced in the art of flirting, and he obviously was a master of it.

  “I’ll be in trouble if anyone sees us,” she guessed, and the king smiled.

  “Not as much as I. I am, after all, the grand prize in a tournament—let’s not forget.”

  How could she?

  His arm closed over her shoulders, and pulled her back to his chest.

  “Dawn will be upon us in a few instants. I’ll be king again. Until then, let us pretend.”

  Pretend what? She could have asked, but there was no need. She knew. Vincent had been right, and the king favored her, although he wouldn’t say as much.

  Now she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try her best to win that stupid competition.

  Northway

  Xandrie didn’t like to ask these days, because everything she said was taken as command, but she shyly went to Sid, who did hear her request. Within two hours, the woman came back with her favorite pair of pants—she’d sewn pockets in the leather, and padded them with rye. After seeing the drawing, and hearing everything Rhey had told her the previous night, she was itching to be just what he’d said she was—a rider. She wasn’t sure how to bring it up with Demelza, though.

  That morning, she didn’t have any spare time to think of it. The Warriors were loading food, water, ale and medicine, spare clothing, and other such things, under the Knights’ guidance, and the Guard was speaking strategy with their king.

  Xandrie stood a foot behind Elza, while looking at the Warriors, itching to make her muscles useful, as her brain wasn’t required. She wasn’t sure where her place was.

  Recognizing Lucie, who waved a greeting, she took a step towards the Warrior, only to be immediately called back.

  “Alexandria.”

  Just her name—Rhey didn’t need to say more. She turned and hesitatingly stepped towards the close group of grand lords.

  Demelza must have sensed her unease; she put her arm around hers and squeezed.

  “You’re to stay close to us. Our men are good, and efficient, too, but they’ve learned to take care of themselves in battle. You’re new at this, and we have your back. At all times, I want you within arm’s length.”

  She really was dealing with the king now, but even he was looking at her with soft, warm eyes. She nodded, and said, “yes, sir,” too. It seemed to amuse him—and the rest of the lords, for some reason.

  “Right. I see your point about the south, and those borders are important, but our shields are still in place there. I want to go north.”

  Amongst the fourteen lords, seven said north, seven were for the south; apparently, the fact that the king preferred north didn’t count as much as she would have thought. They were after a majority, and everyone turned to her.

  She gulped. Her? She was to have a say in an important matter like this one?

  “If the shield protecting the northern borders is down, that’s where we have to go.”

  “North it is. Saddle up.”

  She cleared her throat, and fifteen pair of eyes turned to her.

  “I’m bringing Claws. My tiger.”

  It should have been obvious, as the animal stood by her side, leisurely scratching his ear, but she wanted it said.

  “Of course you are. It wouldn’t do to let him eat half of my kingdom should he get bored in your absence. Make sure he gets on with your horse.”

  Claws wasn’t frazzled by much, and horses were no exception; the equine was another matter.

  “Shush, big poltroon,” she said, holding his head and meeting his eyes. “He isn’t going to harm you, you have my word.”

  She carried on whispering until the horse stopped fussing. When she was done, she turned to find Rhey observing her with a smile.

  “Well done.”

  She just shrugged. “Animals have always listened to me.”

  “Not that. You didn’t ask permission; you told us what you intended to do. While talking to us,” he pointed to himself and the rest of the lords barking orders at their respective divisions. “Not many would have done the same.”

  “Perhaps because others have more sense than I.”

  She was just used to doing what she pleased; people certainly had given her orders before, and she had obeyed, cleaning things as she was bid, but no one had dictated what she did otherwise. No one had really cared to.

  “I have another theory.”

  “Oh?”

  Rhey winked—damn winked at her, not caring about what it did to her poor little heart.

  “Ask me some other time.”

  He rode away, but she called after him. “I thought I was talking to the king at this time!”
<
br />   “And perhaps the king also enjoys teasing you.”

  The trumpets sounded and the retinue was on its way, a well-oiled machine ready for whatever action the wilderness threw into their path.

  Thankfully, the first part of their journey was uneventful, as Xandrie was too taken by the landscape for her eyes to pay attention to much else. These untamed lands were like nowhere else; they passed mountains, plains, lakes and deserted cities at a rapid pace. Soon, the horses had to rest and the men had to talk of what they’d seen. They’d expected to come across some sort of enemy by now; even when the shields had been up, they hadn’t been quite strong enough to keep every unwanted creature out there from entering their domain. The shields were meant to repel evil; mildly foul vermin still got by.

  But there had been none.

  Her curiosity was so piqued by what she’d gathered from the talk around her that she was relieved that the lords welcomed her presence—she could hardly have stayed away, wanting to hear their take on the matter.

  “There’s something bigger happening; I just can’t see why.”

  She felt Rhey’s frustration down to her bones.

  “It definitely seems strategical,” Nathos nodded. “You were right to go north, and we may want to leave a few Warriors at Norda.”

  “So that they may be crushed by whatever’s coming for us?” Xandrie scowled. “I think not.”

  Oh shit. She was probably not supposed to have said anything at all, let alone try to tell a dragon lord how to rule. Again, the lords looked, and this time, they laughed.

  “She’ll make you a good queen,” a man said, smiling.

  Her entire face was on fire right about now.

  “She’s yet to win that right,” Nathos reminded them, but his tone wasn’t unkind. “However, she may make a decent wife to our king, regardless.”

  Oh. Well, that didn’t make a blink of sense.

  “What did you just say?”

  The advisor shrugged.

  “I’d gathered you hadn’t figured that yet. The Claiming is simply a tournament where our women fight for the right to be queen. Nothing says that they have to bind themselves to the king.”

  Holy hell.

  They carried on chatting about nonsensical things such as borders and evil and hunts, while her world spun off its axis. All of a sudden, she didn’t have to fight a bunch of fire breathers for the man she wanted. She could have him—if he would have her.

  She lifted her gaze to his and he seemed just as shocked, ignoring the rest of their party, and staring right at her.

  Then, the king smiled, and lifted his hand, bidding her to take it. She didn’t hesitate. He pulled her to him when she interlinked his fingers with hers, and whispered, “The old man was laughing behind our backs this whole time, right?”

  “Yep. Yep, he was.”

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  “Get in line.”

  Feral

  So this was why they’d ignored his grumbling and his tantrums when he’d protested against them calling for a damn Claiming; all along, he’d had a choice. They’d simply wanted a queen so that the females could have their ruler, their Alpha—Kings didn’t rule women as well as they might—but they couldn’t have cared less about whom he chose to share his den with. He could have her. He could have his rider. Alexandria was to be a Vasili, regardless of the results of a stupid tournament.

  The world didn’t seem to care about the fact that his life had just changed, or started to make sense; it carried on. There still was an entire undefended entrance to his kingdom, and evil plans at work.

  Before he could bring himself to return to these matters, he dropped his head to his mate’s ear and informed her, “I’ll marry you before the year is out.”

  He wouldn’t do it in the middle of The Claiming—he could see how it would be bad form—but he’d be damned if he waited longer.

  “Was there some sort of a question there?”

  No. There was no question.

  “Do you want a big or a small celebration?”

  She chuckled against his chest.

  “We don’t know each other. I don’t know why it’s happened—why I’ve been fixed on you from the very first time I saw you, in those dirty rags, but I knew then what I know now. You’re mine.”

  He’d noticed that his advisors had stopped talking, done pretending that they weren’t paying attention to his whispered words.

  “And you’re mine,” Xandrie repeated, holding on tighter to his hand. “So, yes, I’ll marry you before the year is out. And I’ll also win this kingdom of yours, if I can.”

  The king’s kitchens did not do things by halves. The spread laid out on the forest floor included game pies and roasted venison, along with many other mouth-watering delights. Rhey dug through the kitchen hampers and handed Xandrie a small, ornate box. “From Chef.”

  Xandrie lifted the lid to find a nest of dark chocolate bon-bons. She’d told Chef they were the meltiest magic she’d ever tasted, but it had never crossed her mind he’d do anything as sweet as sending her a private stash when she was out with the hunt. All eyes were on her. “Nope. Not going to share,” she said and popped one in her mouth.

  “Just a little?”

  Rhey’s eyes, so cold sometimes, apparently could turn to molten skies and hypnotize her when he wanted something.

  “I’ll remember this weapon of yours,” she grumbled, reluctantly handing him a sweet.

  The laughter ricocheted off the tree trunks and filled the forest, but Xandrie was suddenly on alert. It wasn’t much—just a rustling of leaves in the general direction of the king—but her rune burned her hand and she felt something rise in protest inside her. She drew Laria from its sheath, and readied herself. Her tiger’s ruff stood on end, his growls only audible to her. Something approached, she was sure of it. But just in case she was being a weirdo, she kept her mouth shut.

  Without warning, a dragon—if indeed that’s what it was—towered over the king, gnashing and frothing. Something wasn’t right: its scales were tarnished, its eyes bloodshot, and its tail was foreshortened into a spiked club.

  The vile creature reared up, its slobbering jaws wide.

  Xandrie launched herself high over the guards, who scrambled for their weapons, hands greasy and mouths full, and plunged her knife into the beast’s chest. The dragon thrashed and roared, claws grasping at its assailant, who yanked her knife from its bloody niche and eased it under his bib, then into his trachea.

  The dragon slumped and sighed, all fight drained from his frame. An evil stench filled the clearing, as the dying dragon’s blood flowed from the gash Xandrie had made across his throat.

  Rhey was at her side, rebuking her, and thanking her, and checking her for wounds.

  “The Ferals are evolving, perhaps even experimenting with new forms,” said Vincent. “I’ve not seen the like before.”

  Strange Ferals roaming their lands only added to their uneasiness.

  By nightfall, they’d reached the guard post of Norda, a tall, dark tower that didn’t look like it had been built by those who’d created the Golden City. It was higher than any building in Telenar, and the curves and figures sculpted on the walls couldn’t have been any more different.

  “This is elf-made,” Nathos said, answering her creased brows. “Long ago, we had an understanding with the Elves of Aryn. They used to guard this post, and we, their borders past the western falls.”

  “What happened?”

  No one was guarding Norda now.

  “They had their own wars to think of. We have no problem defending our own borders, but, without a wall, we can’t do very much.”

  He pointed to a tower she could barely make out in the distance, on top of a high peak.

  “There’s the western post, and here,” he said, pointing to the other direction, “is the eastern one. The Aether shield made the ten miles between these forts practically impenetrable to foul creatures, although some still came thr
ough. Lesser ones. Anyone who couldn’t just waltz past had to go through our gate—here. This was feasible, guard-able. But ten miles of land?”

  She nodded her understanding. That shield was necessary for their safety.

  “And no one can redo it?”

  Nathos shook his head, but Vincent, riding close, told her, “Well, you might, some day. With the proper training.”

  She turned and grimaced at him, wondering what the hell he might be talking about.

  “The wall was made by a rider and her dragon—Rhey’s mother, if I’m not mistaken. Right, Nathos?”

  The advisor yelled, “How many books did you steal from me?”

  “A few. Am I right?”

  “Yes,” he relented. “She did. But you may also have read that using that much power did kill the queen.”

  Silence reigned for a time after that, as Xandrie turned that knowledge around in her mind. She’d never been very fond of the idea of dying before her time, but a lifetime ago, in the dungeons, she didn’t have anything to live for. Now it was different. But still—if she could ensure that the whole kingdom was safe?

  “Don’t think of it.”

  That came from Demelza. Lifting her head, she found multiple pairs of eyes staring at her, bearing the same expression. No one wanted her to even consider this.

  “I’m not- not really. I was just… wondering how the wall may be rebuilt. If it could be done in small parts, perhaps, with enough time, I could…”

  They all felt it. The sudden, potent, brutal force that told them all that they had no time.

  Shadow

  It had waited for them, that much was clear. Why, otherwise, wouldn’t it have made its move until now?

  “All in formation,” the king called, as a dark, hooded figure advanced from the woods, a mile out of Norda.

  It was only one person, and he shouldn’t have felt such dread, but he did, and he wasn’t going to ignore it.

  He, Nathos, Vincent, and Xandrie might be the only ones who knew to fear what was happening when a dark mist appeared, projected out of the stranger’s hand. His own frame was lit in gold—just what Vincent had described when he’d told them how their walls had been breached. They’d walked right into a trap.