Heart of the Dragon (The Lost Royals Saga Book 3)

by Rachel Jonas

  At the sight of a swiftly moving shadow to my left, my head pivoted that way as I ran, only spotting trees and large stones that marked the terrain. Moving at such high speed sometimes made the peripheral view distorted while what lie ahead, directly in my line of site, was like watching the crisp, high-definition picture of a brand-new TV. I turned straight ahead again and thought of Roz of all people.

  How would she cope with Nick being taken away?

  I sensed something brewing between them quite some time ago. Mostly, the interest seemed to be on her side, but, hearing how Nick risked his freedom to bring her home … I knew my assumption had been wrong.

  He felt something for her, too.

  I put myself in her shoes, trying to imagine what a mess I’d be if something were to happen to Liam. Even thinking about it made me sick to my stomach. I’d never survive it. She and I weren’t friends. Actually, I was pretty sure she disliked me because of the past I shared with Nick, but I’d reach out to her anyway. Even if only to extend my condolences and to let her know I’d done everything in my power to help him. It might not make a difference, but I’d visit her anyway, once the wound of losing him wasn’t so fresh.

  Another shadow.

  I turned again, scanning more carefully this time, lifting my eyes to the towering branches above me, but still … nothing. I was alone out here.

  I kept running, faster, harder, as a surge of adrenaline coursed through me.

  There’s nothing, Evie. If there was, you’d sense it.

  Somewhere not too far away, I heard the rushing water of the falls and had my bearings once again. My internal compass was thrown off during the momentary bout of panic, making me aware of how important it is to stay focused. I sniffed the air, detecting hints of pine and moss despite the cold. Willing myself to relax, I took in the beauty around me as a thought set in.

  I was equally as fond of my wolf as I was my dragon.

  Another difference between this me and the old me.

  I’d taken a step as the story Liam shared on the rooftop came back to me. However, I didn’t get to revel in the sweetness of how we came to be. This thought, and the short-lived comfort that accompanied it, were stolen from me the moment I grasped on to them.

  The peace I found was snatched away at the feel of a powerful bite to my hind leg. Pain seared the limb and spread like venom, filling me completely. I cried out and it was a blood-curdling sound, one that ricocheted off every tree for miles before boomeranging back to my ears.

  I fell onto my side, unable to move forward. I reached toward the wound with hands, not paws. I’d begun to shift back to my human form. Warm stickiness met my fingertips. Blood. Lots and lots of blood. My fingers traveled lower as I clenched my eyes tight when tears spilled from them. A thin stick jutted out from my flesh and I willed myself to look, forcing my senses to align—sight, touch. Focusing through the pain, reality came flooding in.

  There was no bite.

  There was only an arrow.

  Someone was out there.

  Afraid, naked, I slinked across the snow-covered ground until I could brace myself against a nearby tree, my eyes darting in every direction. I saw no one, but the evidence of not being alone was sticking out of my leg. It was hard to hear the sounds around thanks to my ragged breathing. I couldn’t control it. Whether the cause was fear or agony … I was losing it. My hands shook and I panicked, accepting one glaring fact…

  I’d never felt more powerless in my entire life.

  A branch snapped, then another, and despite my eyes revealing nothing, I knew I was surrounded. That’s when I felt it—the thin, invisible thread that linked me to Liam vibrated. If he hadn’t already felt the twinge, he would in a second. But I didn’t want that, didn’t want him walking into … whatever this was.

  Unaware.

  Unprepared.

  Warm air cascaded over my lip as I breathed deeply, thought quickly, scrambling to access the rational side of my brain despite my senses betraying me as I huddled.

  Think, Evie. Think.

  It started as one thought and it linked to another. I followed each prompt blindly, knowing I had no other plan. Mustering as much courage as I could, I wandered inside Liam’s head, doing all I could to hide the distress in my tone.

  “Sorry about that,” I chirped. “I went out for a run and tripped. Everything’s fine,” I lied, watching as red streams trailed down my leg before staining the surrounding snow.

  “You’re sure everything’s okay? … Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

  He must have still felt me, because of the pain. More tears moved down my cheeks as I struggled to cast up a veil between myself and him. It was the only way to block him out, the only way to keep him from coming to me.

  “Mmm hmm. Everything’s all good. I’ll be home in a few.”

  There were a few seconds of silence on Liam’s end as another branch snapped to my right.

  “Hurry back,” he said gravely. The very next second, I forced myself out, knowing that if I lingered in his thoughts too long, he’d see through the lie I’d just told to keep him out of harm’s way.

  My cheeks puffed out when I breathed deep, glancing down at my leg again, taking in the sight of the weapon used against me by an unknown assailant. I’d heal, but only if I could get this thing out.

  Another deep breath as time wound down. I could feel them closing in on me, whoever watched from afar. I gripped the shaft, and after accepting that this was the only way, I yanked the arrowhead back through my leg, taking with it chunks of my flesh.

  I cried out again. Long and desperate as I slumped onto my side. I clutched the wound, but it did nothing to quench the pain. It was then, in the haze of agony and disbelief, that I saw it—a ripple in the air, similar to heat rising off pavement on a scorching hot day. Only, last I checked, we had single-digit temperatures across Michigan today.

  Suddenly sober and alert, I panted, following the breach in a perfect circle, roughly a few hundred feet in diameter with me at the center. It was closing in, darkening as the sound of snow crunching beneath the boots of a hundred or more. Slowly, as I focused, figures began to emerge from the distortion.

  There were so many of them. All staring. All with malice in their eyes. Several carried bows and arrows, and other various weapons, but there was no sign of which was responsible for my injury.

  They observed me like an animal on exhibit. I covered myself, squeezing tight into a ball as much as I could to hide my bare flesh from them. I studied each face, maybe searching for one I might know, but these men were all strangers to me. Large, ominous strangers.

  Among them were a few women dressed in familiar garb. I recognized them as witches right away, and likely the cause of the invisibility cloak that protected their group a moment ago. All witches, Hilda aside, chose the macabre attire and most had a distinguishable scent. Or, rather, their magic did. The ones I’d taken down at the facility wreaked like these did, but Hilda’s scent always reminded me of fresh herbs.

  Hilda … I should have stayed with her, should have just … finished my lesson.

  More tears.

  More regret.

  I was terrified.

  The tight formation of lycans was impenetrable. I’d never be able to break through, not with my leg injured. And I could try to fly away, but they’d probably shoot me with another arrow if they sensed I attempted to call up my dragon.

  I was trapped.

  There was a sinister charge to the air, unlike anything I’d ever felt before. It was a strange mixture of dread, oppression, and evil. The weight of it was stifling.

  A near-constant, chilled breeze had whipped through the woods all morning, but now, as the seconds ticked past, it was as though we existed in a cone of silence, cut off from the rest of the world as I turned toward another set of footsteps. These were slow, calculated, and for reasons unknown, they terrified me.

  “Step aside.”

  The words, spoken in an imp
ossibly deep baritone and laced with a thick accent I didn’t immediately recognize, shook me to my core as I searched for whoever grumbled them. With military precision, the circle parted like the Red Sea. I blinked and breathed wildly, desperate to know who was coming forward. As the crowd moved and shifted positions, I caught sight of something.

  A robe—long, dark fabric that dragged the snow as he crossed it.

  As he came closer, another lycan flanked him to the left, one who stuck close, leading me to guess he must have been second in command. My gaze rose to take in the sheer size of him, this man who issued the command that moved his men almost instantly. There were only two things that inspired that sort of obedience, either loyalty or fear.

  I took a guess at which of the two motivated the lycans that surrounded me.

  The buckles of his boots rattled as he moved closer, only stopping when he stood within arm’s reach. I trembled, but did all I could to hide how inferior I felt.

  “Get up,” he seethed, his lips barely moving with the words.

  A hard stare hadn’t left me since I first spotted him. That stare was filled with hatred that defied reason. After all, we were strangers.

  “Get … up!” he boomed. At the sound of it, birds that perched in surrounding trees fled in a dark, squawking cloud.

  Oh, how I wished I could have taken flight with them.

  The bloody leg throbbed beneath my weight. It was with the aid of the tree I sought refuge beside that I was able to stand. My arms were all I had to shield my nakedness from the crowd, from the hungry eyes that did little to conceal the brood’s thoughts.

  Breath puffed from the man’s nostrils and I forced my gaze to stay trained on his, doing all I could to ignore how his protégé ogled with little discretion. I gritted my teeth and bridled the urge to gouge out his eyes with my fingernails.

  My senses aligned, taking note of the keen power struggle that ignited between myself and the robed one the moment I was on my feet; the moment we were eye to eye. I recognized it right away as supernatural. It was my wolf who’d risen up against his, threatening to bear her teeth. There was no doubt in my mind he felt it too.

  Whoever he was.

  The features of his thin, stoic face were partially hidden behind a dark mustache and goatee. Beneath a black, brimmed hat, hair the same inky black fell well past his shoulders. I’d never seen eyes like his—so cold and unfeeling.

  Like he was dead inside. These were the eyes of a madman.

  He leaned closer and I stiffened, holding my breath as he sniffed me, like the animal I sensed him to be. I felt violated, angry, being forced to stand before them like this.

  “Well, what have we here?” A sinister grin spread across his thin lips. “It appears my little informant, and one very gullible Council guard, weren’t wrong after all. Not only is Seaton Falls among the many clans withholding a portion of the tariff … they’ve managed to keep quite a few pertinent secrets from me as well.”

  At those words, at the sense of entitlement laced within them, awareness filled my senses. I knew exactly who he was. He had a name—Sebastian De Vincenzo—but to most, he was simply known as the Sovereign.

  He turned, facing the one I wanted to blind. Realizing his protégé’s attention was focused solely on me, on my nude body, Sebastian cleared his throat before calling him by name.

  “Easy now, Blaise,” he snickered. “You may have bitten off more than you can chew with this one. She’s no ordinary wolf.” There were traces of a warning in the statement.

  A low rumble in Blaise’s chest signaled my wolf to respond in kind. She, nor I, were particularly fond of him. At the sound of her issuing a warning that came from within my chest, he smiled behind dampened lips.

  “You have no idea who this lovely specimen is, or what she’s capable of,” the caped one warned.

  “Maybe not … but I wouldn’t mind getting better acquainted.” Blaise took a step closer before Sebastian placed a hand to his chest, stopping him in his tracks.

  “Easy now,” Sebastian warned again.

  I got the impression he spent quite a bit of time correcting this one’s waywardness. With what little patience he seemed to have, I gathered they must have been close for him to put up with it. Maybe family.

  “But you know I have a thing for the feisty ones,” Blaise countered, narrowing his gaze toward me.

  The crowd laughed and here I stood, on display, exposed. It would’ve been too much to expect even one to show mercy, to offer a jacket, a shirt. Listening to them, the cackling as a barrage of filthy comments flew from their mouths, I shrank into myself, wishing I could just … disappear.

  Humiliated.

  I felt humiliated.

  “Settle down,” Sebastian ordered, holding back a smile as he feigned decency. “There was once a time a man could lose his head for disrespecting this particular lycan,” he grimaced, taking a step closer and another whiff of me. “Or … do you identify as dragon?” The question was laced with sarcasm as he tapped one wiry finger to his lips.

  “…Dragon.” The word left Blaise’s mouth with just enough intrigue to suggest he hadn’t sensed it before. “She’s a hybrid.”

  I didn’t like that this discovery seemed to only pique his interest.

  Sebastian paced—slow, intentional steps as our eyes locked. When he stopped in front of me, the corners of his mouth tugged up. And at his sudden movement, I flinched, fearing he’d strike me or worse, but … to my surprise, I was wrong.

  More laughter rang out—in part due to my reaction, in part due to the show Sebastian made of bowing before me. A blatant gesture, meant to mock my family’s rank, my inherent title.

  Still bent at his waist, he spoke, further shaming me with the words that followed.

  “Gentlemen, behold. I present to you … the mighty queen of the Bahir Dar kingdom.”

  My chest heaved with labored breaths, eyes stung with tears.

  Some whispered, questioning whether they heard correctly. Some laughed, likely because nothing about me must have seemed very regal or stately at the moment.

  “Settle down,” he beckoned as his men roared. “I know what many of you are thinking.” Those wiry fingers of his laced behind his back as his large boots made tracks in the snow. “How is this possible?”

  The crowd was silent as he stopped before me again, that cold stare locked. “For many, many reasons … this is an excellent question,” he nodded. “How is this possible?”

  A trimmer ripped through me, but I held my composure.

  “Someone did this,” he smiled, nearly whispering. But the expression soon evaporated as that deafening baritone shook the earth beneath my feet.

  “Who had the unmitigated gall to defy my commandment?” he yelled.

  No one spoke. No one moved. Maybe they, too, held their breath like I did.

  A long, aquiline nose came mere inches from my own as he invaded my space, pierced the delicate cone of safety around me.

  “Death,” he whispered, sending the word scurrying over my flesh like a living, breathing thing. “Death awaits whoever did this.”

  I wanted to take a step back, but, at the feel of bark against my skin, I knew I was trapped.

  Heat spiked through my limbs, warming my neck and face, probably reddening them as I continued to stare. The dread and evil I sensed were warranted. And now, I understood why my wolf was on edge.

  “What do we do with her?” Blaise asked.

  Sebastian thought for a moment. “Well … in accordance with lycan law, users of restorative magic are to be executed. And their subjects,” he added, pointing toward me as his eyes gleamed with delight, “are mine for the taking, but … seeing as how I have no use for the girl, I suppose she’ll be all yours.”

  Blaise couldn’t have asked for a more satisfying answer. That disgusting grin was back. “And I happily accept your gift, Father.”

  Father. Now I understood.

  The first step Blaise took in my direction
was his last. His eyes rose to the sky just as the atmosphere above thundered. A streak of fire barreled toward us all, the site of which sent most scattering into the surrounding woods.

  The ground quaked as a plume of snow rose several feet into the air, turning to steam in the heat of bright flames. My chest hammered, a fear-induced spike in heartrate. Not the same sense of fear that caused the others to flee as the meteor-like mass descended upon us.

  No … I was afraid because a dark tattoo inked the spine of the one who just landed on the ground before me, his knee and fist embedded in the dirt.

  Without turning to face me, without asking who these people were, or why there was so much blood, Liam said one word that rolled from his throat like the calm before the storm.

  “…Run.”

  I knew he meant well, but I had no intentions on following his order. Leaving him here was simply not an option.

  “Careful, dragon. That advice will get you both killed,” Sebastian grinned.

  The next second, my waist was seized by one of his henchmen. In his grasp, I struggled to keep myself covered, fighting to maintain the last ounce of dignity this ordeal hadn’t yet stripped away. The ongoing scuffle between myself and the brute had Liam breathing actual smoke from his nostrils as he panted, anger brimming from his core.

  His jaw gritted, causing his words to come out hard, bitter. “Take your hands off her … now.”

  Detecting the challenge in Liam’s tone, the henchman tightened his hold, making a show of his strength when he gripped my arms and aimed to pry them away. He meant to expose me even more than I already was, most likely to further embarrass me, to show Liam who was in charge.

  But, unfortunately for the lycan, Liam was in no mood for second warnings.

  In a cloud of snow and fire, he was upon us. A violent snap and the restricting embrace of the henchman went limp. Then, the distinct thud of a body hitting the ground. Liam stood before me, clutching me as his warmth pressed to my chest, the solid mass of his body shielded me from the prying eyes of a hundred men.