To Tame a Rogue (Age of Gold Book 3)

by May Sage

The boy pointed to his own chest and proudly announced, "Run!" before dashing out.

  Ash's gaze followed him, trying to understand where his carers were. The boy must have been five, at most; surely no parent had left him alone.

  "Here," said Elza.

  He lifted his gaze to find her handing out a wrapped piece of food she'd just purchased from a merchant. The smell was decidedly intriguing.

  "At least you can't say we're not welcoming here in Farden."

  Ash lifted his bound arm. "I definitely feel welcome."

  She rolled her eyes, before biting into her own food. Ash tentatively tried his, eating a piece of meat-packed hot flatbread. His eyes widened, and his second bite was considerably larger. By the fourth, he'd devoured the whole thing.

  Damn. Given everything that had occurred, he'd failed to realize he hadn't eaten since morning. Now he was downright ravenous. He looked down to the empty package, feeling dejected.

  Elza laughed, turning to the merchant she'd just bought the food from. "Can we have another one?"

  "Make it three," said Ash, digging into the pocket of his leather breeches to find his purse. He paused, remembering that his gold was from Absolia.

  Thankfully, Elza was lifting her hand, stopping him from getting his money out. "On me." She dropped a few coins in the merchant's hand and they were on their way up to the castle.

  Now that he'd eaten and resigned himself to having to meet the Vasili king, Ash was considerably less 'grumpy', to borrow Elza's choice of wording. But he remained very conscious of timing. He wanted to explore the coast and speak to those who might have spotted his sister, and he needed to get to Damion at once, and intercept whatever forces he might have sent after sensing his trouble. And take care of Gragnar. All things considered, this excursion to Telenar might as well be seen as a little break from everything else.

  The castle was a little more protected than the outside city walls, with a moat, a drawbridge, and higher walls, but what Ash noticed was its finesse, the craftsmanship. Each wall had sculptures and well-carved stones. Ash's keep had been built in ten years, made to last and withstand any attack; this one might have taken a hundred years. Ash didn't understand the reasoning behind spending quite so much time on a building that would be destroyed at the first assault, but the result was breathtaking, nonetheless.

  "Pretty impressive, right?"

  He shrugged. Admiring Farden was one thing. Admitting it out loud, quite another.

  "All right, spoilsport. Come on through."

  Inside, it was more of the same, grandeur rather than practicality, joyfulness, merriment, carefreeness. Ash didn't know whether he should despise or envy them for it.

  Elza led him through high halls and long corridors, obviously feeling quite at ease in the royal castle. None so much as stopped to question her presence or welcome her. This was her home, Ash realized.

  At long last, she turned into a room, announcing, "Here we are."

  Here they were indeed. In the privy council cabinet of the king. Rhey Vasili sat next to a beautiful woman with brown hair, and around them, there was a small group that seemed friendly and approachable.

  Until they lifted their eyes and saw him.

  The next moment, Rhey got up from his seat, lifting one arm to protect his wife, the queen. The man to his right, a long-haired noble who looked a little like him, had his sword in hand. None of them mattered as much as the woman next to that warrior. A young thing some might mistake as harmless, but Ash knew magics. Being bonded to a powerful mage had made him quite aware of the energy around him. He felt Ragnar's powers, recognized Damion's without issue. And he knew that that woman surpassed them all. She could destroy him where he stood without any effort at all.

  They'd recognized him, somehow; or at least, they'd identified him as an enemy of their realm. His jaw tensed.

  "Why is everyone's getting worked up?" asked a woman Ash had failed to notice at first.

  On a loveseat next to a window, there was a blonde woman in cut-off leathers. She was tall, he could tell, although she was seated. She was also strong.

  More importantly, she was kin.

  Ashkar

  He knew. The moment he saw her, he knew it to his bones. The woman was fierce. A light among them, shining so bright. He wanted to kneel and call her queen. He wanted to go to her, take her in his arms and hold her until she felt it. That she was his sister.

  What, how? It was obvious that she'd been well treated; she wore fine clothes and held herself like a noble.

  Nothing made sense anymore. He had so many questions.

  "What is the meaning of this, Elza?" Rhey asked, his eyes fixed on her.

  Ash didn't like the way he was talking to her. Not at all. But now, perhaps, was not the time to let him know.

  "This is..."

  "An Absolian. He reeks of darkness and fire, a scent sticking to his skin."

  Demelza lifted a brow, before looking from Rhey to him again. "The thought crossed my mind, actually, but I didn't think so. He's pretty nice." Now, she addressed him. "Are you Absolian?"

  There was no point in lying in such company. With some luck, he might get away with a few omissions, but that was the extent of it.

  "Yes."

  She blinked and shrugged. "All right, one point to you," said she, with a shrug. "To actually be fair, he didn't say he wasn't. Look, I found him in the Durandan, hurt, and he's been pretty nice all the way here. Hasn't tried to hurt me once. Least we can do is give him a chance to talk, right?"

  Rhey didn't seem so inclined. The other male still had his sword out. But the woman behind the king put her hand on Rhey's shoulder.

  "I will hear him."

  She wasn't asking for permission, there was no hesitation in her voice. This wasn't a pretty wife meant to spread her legs open and pop out a few children. The woman was a rider, and a queen.

  "Very well," said Rhey, between his teeth. "Let us hear what an Absolian does on my lands."

  He repeated the same thing he'd told Demelza. "A long time ago, my sister was taken from my family. I've spent the last hundred years listening to any rumors, any talk, that could give me clues to her whereabouts. A recent report suggested that she might be here in Farden. I believed it to be a trail worth exploring."

  He certainly did now. Ash couldn't believe he was here, in the same room as her, breathing the same air.

  "The man, I believe, is not giving the entire story."

  The cultured, slow, and deep voice came unexpectedly, as Ash had failed to notice the rest of the company, but now that he paid attention, there was an ancient dragon—an erudite, rather than a warrior, if one was to read his persona. Most dragons of a certain age could effortlessly destroy any opponents, but some chose to focus on their studies. Not many, in Absolia.

  "Nathos?" the king prompted.

  "Well, I could very well be mistaken, but I do not believe in coincidences. This is the king in the west, Ashkar Dracul. And he's saying the truth, as far as he knows, no doubt."

  The elder sighed and got to his feet. "Your sister was not taken from you. The night of your birth, she was smuggled out of the castle where your father had just been murdered, for her safety. I've made enquiries since. There was a price on her head, from one end of the continent to the next. It is but a miracle that she made it safely here, with no escort but a determined nursemaid."

  Ash absorbed each word, trying to make sense of them. Could he believe it? It rang true, but what worth did the words of a Fardenian weigh?

  Then again, here she was, safe, and well cared for.

  "Here," Rhey repeated, eyes narrowed at his advisor.

  The dragon they'd called Nathos inclined his head. "When I found her, your father was still king, and there is no doubt that he would have killed her on the spot, so I kept her from him. Hid her darkness under certain spells. As nothing occurred for a hundred years, I saw no reason to inform you when you became king. The woman is no threat to this realm."

&nbs
p; Rhey was not even remotely satisfied with the answer, but the elder seemed not to care. His attention was fixed on the beautiful blonde who hadn't moved from her loveseat. After a beat, she snorted.

  "So, I'm not your niece? I'm that random dude's sister?"

  As the dude in question, Ash chose not to take it to heart.

  Nathos inclined his head. "What the hell! That's not fair. Dude's hot, and I can't even bang him 'cause we're related." She pouted. "And no wonder I look nothing like you."

  That was, apparently, all the woman had to say about it. She went back to filing her long nails.

  Rhey wasn't so easily satisfied. "So, that's it. You came here to see if your sister was alive, and that was all?"

  There was an edge to his voice. Ash did not care for it. He entirely ignored the king, stepping in front of his oblivious sister. "You're the firstborn daughter of Karash. You should be queen."

  She laughed in his face. "No offense, but I'd suck at it. You do not understand how much I'd suck at it." She looked behind his shoulder, to Elza, and asked, "Tell him how much I'd suck at it!"

  The other woman promptly complied. "I've just seen her idea of politics. Your kingdom would be in cinders within a week, tops."

  Ash was so very frustrated. Didn't she understand? He was a usurper; and probably a usurper with a murderous mother, if Nathos' story was to be believed. No one else would have had reason to want the heir dead.

  "Wait, Nathos said daddy dearest's dead...do I have a mom? Siblings? A name? Gosh, that would be weird. Another name."

  "Kara. That was your name."

  She blinked. "So, you're Ashkar, the dad was Karash, and I'm Kara? You guys have zero imagination."

  The corner of his lips twitched. "What are you called now?"

  "Sass. Saskia," she amended.

  "I like that."

  "Good. Sticking to it." She patted the seat next to her, inviting him to take a place right next to her.

  He did so, wondering if that was how an out-of-body experience felt. So surreal.

  "Right, Ashkar..."

  "Just Ash."

  "Ash. I get the whole firstborn thing, and the royal thing; believe it or not, I actually even joined the Claiming to be queen here, because I didn't really like the idea of the realm being run by idiots. Rhey was a bit loony for a while, and the other contenders sucked. No offense," she said, waving at Elza.

  "None taken."

  "But honestly, I would have hated the role, here, in my home. I'm not interested in taking your throne. Now, if I happen to have extra family—particularly a family that brings presents—that sounds great. But keep your throne."

  Very slowly, he nodded. "I don't know much about your mother. She left court right after our father's funeral. She's a bear."

  "No way!" Saskia exclaimed happily. "I love bears. Great fighters."

  "As for presents..." he winced. "We do celebrate birth centuries?"

  Absolia wasn't very much until celebrations; they made them as sparse as possible. Ash only had had a single celebration in his entire existence.

  "That's just tragic. When were you born?"

  He inclined his head.

  "The day, season."

  "Fourteenth day of summer?"

  She nodded. "All right. Every fourteenth day of summer, I'll send you a gift. We do monthlies here, because there's been so many deaths of women and all."

  Ash frowned. "Your women die?"

  "In childbirth, yes. So many of them."

  Ah. That, he understood. "Too much dragon blood in the line," he said.

  He could feel all eyes on him now, particularly those of Elza.

  "Long ago, our ancestors would only wed dragons. Within a few generations, many women were dying because their children were too wild and attempted to rip their way out of their wombs. And then, my...great-great grandfather, I believe, made a truce with the three main races in the land. He was to wed a bear, a wolf, and a dragon woman, so as to keep everyone in the kingdom happy. And the dragonwife died birthing his child, but the bear and werewolf both lived through the birthings. The phenomenon has been studied and the cause was confirmed."

  "Aleria guessed as much," said the mage woman of immeasurable power. "She'll want to speak to you."

  Aleria.

  That name rang a bell.

  Now that he paid attention, so did the eyes of the brunette.

  He watched her closely, and then his attention went back to the queen. They were visibly sisters...

  The ancient was right. There were no coincidences.

  "Talia?" Ash guessed, pointing to the mage. And now, he pointed to the queen. "Xandrie?"

  He had everyone's attention again.

  "I am bound to Damion Astria."

  Truce

  At first there was silence, and then, cries. From one sister, frantic cries. Xandrie hugged her knees and bawled her eyes out in front of a confused mate who did his best to reassure her, hugging her.

  From Talia, there was question after question. How, when, how was he, how come they'd never heard from him, and so many others. Ash didn't want to have this conversation with them. It wasn't his place, and he said as much.

  "You will excuse me, I am not one to betray my companion's confidence. Let it only be said that none who know his trials could possibly blame your brother for staying away from the Northern Var."

  His reply was begrudgingly accepted by the sisters, but Rhey was not so easily satisfied. "Would he have been able to return home, had he wished to?"

  If the king of Farden was attempting to trample over Ash's last nerve, he certainly was succeeding. Perhaps he was mistaken for a coward because he had not attempted to rush into a fight yet. Rhey was pushing his dominance around, like a ruler attempting to assert his authority. Ash couldn't have that now.

  "Lies are the tools of weaklings, Vasili. I have been honest in all of our dealings. And yet you seem determined to find reasons to antagonize me. If it's a fight you're angling for, should we head outside and get it over with? Just you and me. No weapons, no fire, no shifting. Let's have some fun, shall we?"

  Ash had seen it a thousand times, with wolves, bears, and dragons. When two males or females holding the same status, with the same dominance level, crossed paths, it was rare that the encounter didn't end in a duel of sorts. If he was honest, Ash had also itched to punch the dragon king from the moment he'd seen him. He'd only remained diplomatic because of his sister, and the fact that there was one of him against three firelords, a rider, and an enchantress.

  But a one-on-one fight? That, he certainly wouldn't say no to.

  Rhey was surprised and visibly pleased. A slow smile started at the corner of his lips.

  "Oh, no, no, no," said his wife, crossing her arms across her chest. "We do not need that question answered. You'll be impossible if you win, and cranky for years to come if you lose."

  The king twisted on his heels to face her and tilted her chin up.

  "As you wish."

  Ash tried his best to keep a straight face and not remark upon the fact that the great Rhey Vasili did as his wife dictated.

  "There will be no fighting."

  "Glad to hear it," Ash stated. "And in that case, I'm sure we can agree to remain civil, can't we?"

  No one spoke that way to the king, he could tell, given the way his people tensed, as if expecting him to explode. But after a long breath, Rhey inclined his head. "For now, and so long as you're not deceiving us."

  "Marvelous." In an effort to remain honest, Ash added, "By the way, I should mention that there's a high likelihood of my brethren flying toward your kingdom as we speak." He tilted his head to Elza, "Hence why I was attempting to get your charming cousin to release me as soon as possible. I was hurt, earlier. Damion would have felt it and responded accordingly."

  The queen and her sister exchanged a hopeful glance. "Damion is coming here?"

  The sister's mate, finally sheathing his sword, replied to her. "Yes, more than likely at the h
ead of a dragon army, in case you missed that little fact. As if we needed more of a mess at our borders. Gods, orcs, and now this?"

  Ash blinked in confusion. Saskia was quick to enlighten him. "You've just missed the scoop. To give you the short version, we have two goddesses on our land. One servant of shadow and one of Aether. They've been sent to test us, and if the Aether one gives up on us by returning to her home first, the gods will lift the walls around the continent and let all the orcs in, before destroying us all to start things anew in these lands."

  Shit. Were they serious?

  Ash, and the rest of his kingdom, had always believed in being prepared for the worst, expecting an attack, a war, anytime soon. But if all the billions of orcs outside the energy walls protecting their lands were let in, it wouldn't be a war. It'd be a massacre.

  "The long version," Ash said. "I need the long version."

  And so, he was told tales of gods and enchantresses. The shadow goddess had come to issue a warning and give hope to Talia. Ash stiffened. If the walls were open for a moment, to the north, the dragons might be able to make it, but what of the rest of his people? The bears. The wolves. Ash may turn into a dragon, but he did not forget the fact that he'd been brought to life by a werewolf. The pack was family. He counted many bears among his guards, and some among his friends.

  This wouldn't do at all.

  "Truce," he stated. "We should make a truce. Join forces until this threat passes. Find the goddess, whatever it takes. Come to her aid."

  "See!" said Talia victoriously, poking a finger in her mate's ribs. "Even he says help her, rather than lock her up so she can't go home."

  That seemed obvious to him. Absolia had no device in their possession that could effectively bind an enchantress, let alone an actual goddess.

  "Truce," Rhey repeated tentatively. "I have sent scouts to every kingdom. They've been told to find her, and if they manage, help her to the best of their abilities, before reporting to us with a location."

  "I shall issue the same order," Ash replied. "And now, I must be on my way."

  He would not ask to take leave of Rhey, making it clear that he intended to go or stay at his leisure; but leaving without any farewell seemed poor manners, so he took three steps until he stood in front of the other king, and extended his hand.