“Today, we release Sarvos of his burdens and crown a new ruler from those who stand among us. The rite is an ancient tradition that we honor and respect to this day ̶ a fight to submission or death to earn a seat at the head of this pride.”
My jaw drops at her words and my gaze shoots to Eira, who squeezes my hand tightly. Her lips are pressed into a thin line and her eyes scan the crowd below again, no doubt in search of Warin.
A fight to the death.
“Come forward brothers and sisters, if your heart is strong and your love of this kingdom is eternal. Come forward if you would sacrifice today for the happiness and safety of your people ̶ if you would lay down your own life for the great responsibility of leading this kingdom into prosperity.”
Her voice echoes out over the crowd and a scattered growl rumbles through the mass below. My eyes dart around, watching for men to step forward, zeroing in on the bodies that are shifting in consideration.
The crowd parts and Dederic moves to stand before Ismeina. My stomach knots and terror blasts through my chest at the thought of him participating in this.
“I come before my family, pure of heart and strong in spirit. I will claim the title of king.” His voice is clear as he faces the ancient woman. He removes his weapons and armor and pulls his shirt over his head while Ismeina approaches and removes the top of the gold urn.
She dips a spindly hand inside and brings it out, dripping with a thick red liquid. Pressing a palm to each side of Dederic’s chest, she draws a few markings across his face and neck and stands back to nod at him.
“May the blood of past kings grant you blessings and luck during today’s challenge, brother.”
Dederic faces the crowd and a cheer goes up and men pound their armor in approval. He looks fierce and brutal and a shiver goes down my spine at the sight of him.
More commotion starts from another section of the crowd below as another man moves forward. A mix of encouragement and disapproval follows him to the head of the assembly. He’s huge, but young ̶ much younger than Dederic ̶ and the invincible arrogance of adolescence rolls off him in waves.
“I come before my family, pure of heart and strong in spirit. The throne is mine,” the challenger bellows. His red hair is shaved on the sides and long on top and he peels his shirt off to reveal a lean, but muscular torso.
“Who is that?” I whisper.
“Noah,” Eira says over her shoulder, eyes glued to the scene before us.
Ismeina decorates the challenger in the same way that she decorated Dederic, marking him with deep red designs on his chest and face.
“May the blood of past kings grant you blessings and luck during today’s challenge, brother,” she murmurs.
One more man pushes to the front and approaches the others. I recognize him from the throne room as one of the heavily armored soldiers tasked with guarding the king. He is broad-chested and carries a large scar on his back that is misshapen and raised as though never properly treated. He voices his intent, and Ismeina decorates him in red markings as well.
“We thank you for your love and sacrifice,” Ismeina tells the would-be kings before turning to address the rest of the assembly.
Eira breathes a sharp sigh of relief at the realization that Warin will not be amongst the challengers today. Also notably absent from the group is Moris, who I thought for sure would jump at the chance to crush the masses in his arrogant fist.
“That’s it? What about the other High Council or career fighters?” I ask in a hushed whisper.
“It’s a risk ̶ they’re betting on the challenger they support and would follow as ruler coming out on top today. Dederic has the respect of everyone here… either they know they can’t beat him themselves, or they’re content with him being named king and serving in his court,” she says and my heart squeezes.
“And the other two?” I breathe.
“Noah is inexperienced and ambitious. I’m not sure what Tyon’s motivation is, but it may be that he thinks himself older and wiser than either of the other men and therefore more suited to the role.”
Ismeina’s musical voice calls our attention to the ceremony below again.
“This will be a battle in Dragon form,” she instructs the challengers, “there will be no weapons and no interference from bystanders. You may not leave the sight of this assembly; doing so will instantly eliminate you from the gauntlet. When the last challenger yields or is killed, the victor will be crowned. If you yield, you will pull your wings in submission and return to this spot in human form.”
The challengers and the crowd below murmurs in observance of the rules and she continues.
“There will be time before the oath tonight for each and every one of us to consider our own devotion and swear fealty to the champion.”
She moves forward, away from the cliff’s edge and points to the three men standing behind her.
“On my signal, you will shift and circle in preparation. On my command the rite will begin.”
My heart is racing, and I can feel the fire rolling through my blood, hammering against my insides and begging me to call Dederic back and away from this fight.
Silence falls over the crowd and everyone holds their breath in anticipation.
“Now,” Ismeina calls, and the men sprint towards the ledge before leaping off.
I clamp my hand over my mouth to catch the gasp that is pulled from me. They fall out of sight, and I scrunch my eyes closed for a horrible, horrifying moment. Eira squeezes my hand hard and when I look out again, three enormous Dragons come blasting up over the edge and into the sky above us, trumpeting and roaring in challenge. Ismeina’s thin arms stay raised over her head as she watches them circle for a few moments.
“Begin,” she calls.
The sound of their bodies colliding is one of the most horrible, jarring sounds I have ever experienced ̶ like boulders cracking together.
The creatures dive and rip and tear at each other in a sort of mid-air dance. The crazed fury of the fight between Dederic and the stray Dragon was nothing like this. Each of these men is clear, strategic and precise in the way they attack and deflect the other’s advances.
Gold, black and green tangle together in a mass of claws and wings and teeth. The green Dragon – Noah - lands a solid bite into the gold one’s shoulder. Blood sprays and Tyon shrieks and thrashes, his paws beating like hammers on Noah’s stomach.
Dederic drops in from above and sinks his talons into Noah’s back, pulling him down and off his target. Noah roars in fury and whips his neck around, but Dederic is positioned just out of reach.
The gold Dragon - Tyon - circles and appears to be trying to find an in but gets too close, and Noah latches onto his neck with long teeth. Dederic tears and claws at the younger soldier’s back, shredding through his scaled armor, but Noah refuses to release his victim.
Eventually, the fight seems to drain from Tyon’s body, and he tucks his wings and goes limp until Noah’s green Dragon releases him to fall heavily to the clearing below.
Men along the rampart exclaim loudly at the loss. I watch the gold Dragon shift just before he hits the ground and Mihel, the healer, rushes towards him.
My eyes shoot back to the sky as Dederic and Noah continue to circle each other.
They’re evenly matched in size and strength. Noah’s movements are slippery, and his strikes are blindingly fast, but Dederic appears calm and unfazed by the younger man’s attempts to find his mark. Noah slams his spiked tail into Dederic, who rolls to the side and crushes them both into the western wall of Ruarden.
The stone explodes on impact and this time I do scream while Eira wraps an arm around my shoulder, and the men around us shout and dart about trying to get a better view.
The two Dragons roar and shoot themselves back overhead, locked together as they each struggle for dominance over the other.
Finally, Dederic manages to get his jaws around the green Dragon’s neck, positioning himself so that no matter
how the other man flails, he controls the fight. The crowd around us roars and soldiers below begin pounding their armor in a deafening drum roll.
“Yield, you idiot,” Eira murmurs.
Dederic yanks on Noah’s neck and sends him thrashing painfully from side to side, but he refuses to pull his wings. He pounds the green Dragon over and over with his sharp tail, bright red gashes appearing where it strikes on the side of his body.
The men around us have started yelling now - demanding Noah’s submission. I can feel the minute the atmosphere changes and the possibility that this may very well become a fight to the death becomes a reality.
The beasts thrash and roll in the air, getting so close at one point that I can smell the blood on them. Dederic growls angrily, not releasing the green Dragon, but not issuing the killing blow.
He doesn’t want to kill him.
Finally, Noah pulls his wings and Dederic releases him instantly to fall to the clearing below.
Huge roars of victory go up from the assembly and the black Dragon stretches and booms in triumph, circling his pride overhead.
I let loose a breath I didn’t realize I was holding and feel myself sway at the stark relief of no lives lost today and the amazement of Dederic’s accomplishment.
“He did it,” I whisper, and Eira bounces up and down beside me exclaiming wildly.
Noah lands on the grass in human form and Mihel goes to him instantly.
Dederic circles a few moments longer before landing solidly on his feet near the edge of the cliff. He strides to the older, gold Dragon, Tyon, and clasps his hand in respect. Then he walks to Noah and crouches down beside him on the grass. Noah offers his hand and Dederic takes it and leans in to say something in his ear. When he stands, his chest is heaving from exertion.
Ismeina hobbles slowly over to him. “Well done, brother, and congratulations,” she says, motioning for him to lean closer. He ducks down low for her to place a shining circlet of gold atop his head.
“We claim you as our King, Dederic Volos. The Mother is proud of you, Sarvos and rulers past esteem you, we exalt you. Thank you for your sacrifice.”
Dederic nods and faces the assembly who is pounding their armor and shouting loud, excited calls of ownership.
He takes in the faces of the men before him, and then turns his attention to those of us along the ramparts. His eyes stop on me, and I suck in a breath at the expression on his face. He holds my gaze for a few seconds, and I swear I see the faintest ghost of a smile before his eyes continue moving down the line.
Ismeina speaks over the excited chatter of voices again and addresses the crowd.
“We will celebrate our king tonight ̶ commit ourselves to him and Ruarden. Tomorrow we will honor our past and lay Sarvos to rest.”
Dederic nods at the older woman and speaks to his people.
“Let’s go,” he calls.
The men clap their hands over their hearts in salute and offer one more shout of unity before the crowd starts to move and Dederic is swallowed up by well-wishers.
“Come on.” Eira tugs on my hand and we file slowly down the stairs and through the castle with the rest of the people.
She chats excitedly in my ear, others popping in and out with comments of their own about the rite. I stay quiet and thoughtful as my emotions roil within me. Pride, amazement, happiness, relief, fear, doubt, sadness; they all zoom around inside my head at the reality of Dederic as a Dragon king.
Perhaps it was naive of me, but when he was Sarvos’ second, the weight of his responsibility felt exponentially less. The fire between us was exciting and fun and there was no other expectation aside from exclusivity. And while there was no talk of the future, it felt like the possibilities were open and endless and there.
Now ̶ as king ̶ it feels like there is a mountain between us. The same as with humans, I’m sure there are expectations now for his behavior ̶ where his priorities are, how his time is spent, and who is an acceptable partner. The daughter of a cruel tyrant, a human who jilted another groom, and who is just barely learning about Dragon culture and history - no reasonable person would argue that a king showing preference for someone like that is at all appropriate.
Would Dederic pursue me in secret? Would he ask that we continue our physical relationship in private while he seeks out a suitable queen to lead Ruarden in public? And are my feelings for him enough that I could come to terms with that sort of arrangement?
I take a deep breath to settle the fire blazing through my blood and prepare myself to be ready to answer these questions sooner rather than later.
“You look amazing,” Eira whispers as we file into the great hall, which has been decorated beautifully for the celebration tonight. Music fills the air and vibrates through my chest so that my heart pounds in time with the animated rhythm. A huge fire blazes on the hearth, casting everything in a mysterious glow. The ceiling is strung with shimmery gold and green fabric in honor of the new king.
“Thank you,” I murmur and smooth my hand over the luminous ivory gown shot through with gold thread. It’s delicate and fitted and highlights the healthy glow of my skin and the color of my hair. I left the diadem and the bracelets on that Eira loaned me earlier and each step is musical as they jingle together.
“And you have to know how beautiful you look as well,” I tell her.
“Oh, this old thing?” she teases and waves a hand over her own elegant green dress.
I smile and lift a brow ̶ we both know she looks incredible. Everyone looks stunning tonight; dressed in their most polished uniforms and carefully put together.
We each take a glass of wine and mingle with everyone as we wind through the room.
After a bit, the music quiets and stops and Ademar brings our attention to the head of the room where the rest of the elders have gathered.
“We are here tonight to congratulate and swear fealty to our newly crowned king. Tonight begins a new chapter in our history as a pride and as a family, and I have all the faith in the world that Dederic is not only incredibly worthy of the position, but that he will be the one to lead us into a time of healing and prosperity. Long live the king!”
A deafening cry of support and victory echoes through the hall, and Dederic enters and takes his place on the throne at the head of the room. He looks like a king tonight, dressed in polished black and forest green. The gold crown sits over his dark brown hair that he has left loose tonight. His face is serious and strong as he greets each of the elders and shakes their hands as they bow and vow loyalty to him.
One by one, everyone approaches to kneel and salute and offer their own words of congratulation and promise to stand by Dederic and Ruarden. He looks each person in the eye and offers thanks and shakes their hand or grips their shoulder.
The air of happiness and hope in the room is palpable, and my own chest swells with admiration and affection and something more for this man.
Eira and I move forward with the crowd until we have come to the front of the room. She goes before me and offers a deep curtsy, the train of her gown spilling out beautifully around her. Dederic offers his hand, and she takes it as she rises again. She pats his arm in a familial show of congratulations, and he smiles and nods before she steps aside. And then I am face to face with the new king.
His green eyes land on me, and I straighten my shoulders as I walk toward the enormous, regal-looking man before me. The barest hint of a smile tugs at his mouth as I count out a few heartbeats as I stand in front of him. Before I can move to drop into a curtsy, his hand reaches out and he gives a small shake of his head.
“You look lovely tonight, Seda,” he murmurs, and pleasure heats my cheeks.
I can’t fight the smile that blooms on my face. His eyes drop to my mouth and I lean forward to plant a palm on the center of his chest, sending a gentle wave of magic through him.
“I’m so proud of you,” I say quietly, and he traps my hand with his own. I feel the pride and excitement and happiness la
cing the powerful fire in his chest, and I gasp a bit at the rush of emotion.
“Am I entitled to a kiss as commendation?” he asks.
Surprise rings through me at the request for such a public display, but I lean down to place a kiss on his clean-shaven cheek.
“As many as you like,” I whisper.
I straighten and step away from him, flashing a coquettish smile. A dimpled smirk pulls at his mouth and his eyes glitter with wicked amusement.
“I’ll remember that,” he says.
I dip a small curtsy and peek up at him through my eyelashes before moving off to the side to allow the rest of the procession to continue.
Once everyone has had a chance to pay their respects to the king, the music kicks up again and the revelry begins. Eira spins me in a wild, happy dance and I laugh and enjoy the feeling of lightness. We manage to pull Cecily and Eve into our circle of movement while onlookers cheer and clap in time with the music. Warin slides in behind Eira and holds her lovingly, and they break away to dance together.
A warm arm slides around my waist, and I tip my head back to see Dederic behind me. He leads me in a sensual, swaying rhythm and presses soft, wine-soaked kisses along my neck and wrists. I close my eyes and breathe in the smell of him and imagine that things are simple and straightforward and easy.
When the song ends, I turn in his arms and he leans down and kisses my mouth. His tongue slides against mine and I melt into the way his body feels wrapped around mine. That thrum of heat and desire flows through me and I nip gently at his bottom lip before pulling slowly away. He tilts his head in question and I do my best to offer a carefree smile.
A few men approach and I take the opportunity to slip away, leaving them to their conversation.
I wander back to the far side of the room and lean against a table next to Odin. He shoots me a curious look out the side of his eyes and crosses his arms over his chest.
“Not a dancer?” I ask, and he snorts loudly but stays otherwise silent.
We stand relaxed and still, watching the mass of people talking and drinking and dancing. After a while, Odin nudges me with his elbow and I look up at him.
Song of Smoke: A Dragon Shifter Romance (The King's Series Book 1) Page 18