by Zoe Chant
Darklis barely dared to breathe as she slowly eased the book down off the shelf. It was a massive tome, bound in leather, and clearly as ancient as the history it recorded. Dust rained down on her as she finally managed to pull it down, and she sneezed, her eyes itching.
Ugh!
Sniffling a little, Darklis wiped her nose with the sleeve of her robe, then immediately felt bad.
Not very elegant. Not a good representative of my clan.
Well – if she were truly a good representative of her clan, she wouldn’t be here in the first place, she supposed. She’d be upstairs, watching Magnus’s brother be declared heir to the throne.
She simply couldn’t bring herself to feel too bad about it, though. Not when she finally had the book she’d always dreamed of reading right here in her hands.
I’ll go to the ball this evening, Darklis thought, trying to assuage what small parts of her conscience were hurting her. No one will ever know.
Chapter Three
Liev
“Ah, Prince Liev. Have you met my niece, Larysa?”
Despite the fact he wanted to groan, Liev’s smile remained in place as he turned to face the man who had spoken.
“How lovely to see you, Duke Claus,” he said, immediately recalling his face, despite the fact he knew he hadn’t seen him in years. It was just another skill that had been drummed into him since he was old enough to stand. A king could not forget people’s names or faces. Not of his friends, and certainly not of his enemies.
Not that Duke Claus of the Zoisme Clan was his enemy, of course. But everyone knew he was jealous of the Drakos Clan’s hoard and power.
Claus smiled slightly, his eyes glinting as he pushed forward the young woman standing by his side. She shot her uncle a quick glare, before her face took on the polite expression expected of dragon royalty.
“And how nice to meet you,” Liev said, bowing slightly before her. No matter what he may have thought of her uncle, it would be unforgiveable to be rude to a lady.
“Charmed,” she replied, a hint of disinterest in her voice, though her expression remained as polite as ever.
“Well, I can see you two are already getting along famously,” Claus laughed, and Liev honestly couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic. “And now that you’re the heir, I’m sure you’ll be needing to get married. Soon.”
Claus’s words were about as subtle as a sledgehammer soaked in dragonsbane.
“Uncle, we’ve talked about this,” Larysa said under her breath.
“Yes, we have,” Claus went on. “We’ve talked about how unlikely it is you’ll find your mate before you turn twenty-five. And how advantageous this marriage would be. For both of you.”
He turned to wink at Liev, as if his niece weren’t standing right there.
It was certainly true that Larysa was very beautiful – any man would feel incredibly fortunate to be her husband.
But she is not our mate, his dragon supplied, right on cue.
Larysa shot him a mortified look, as if to tell him that she, too, couldn’t quite believe just how blatant her uncle was being.
“Well, Uncle Claus,” she said brightly. “This has been fun. But there must be so many other people Liev has to meet with. Perhaps we should excuse ourselves.”
Claus looked like he was about to object, before his niece took him firmly by the arm and began to walk him away. As Liev watched them go, Larysa glanced ruefully over her shoulder, mouthing Sorry at him as they went.
The moment of respite was short-lived.
“Prince Liev, allow me to congratulate you, and present to you my daughter, Lady Marina –”
“Oh! Prince Liev, I don’t believe you’ve met my younger sister –”
“Prince Liev, may I introduce you to –”
Of course, he smiled at all of them, bowed, and kissed their hands. Some of the girls even made eyes at him, clearly hoping that if he had to get married, they would be the one waiting at the end of the aisle.
“Liev, may I speak with you a moment?”
After the whirl of eligible princesses, duchesses, and baronesses, it was a relief to hear his own father’s voice in his ear.
“Yes, Father. Of course.”
Liev followed his father to a quiet – or comparatively quiet – corner of the hall. Around them, dancing couples turned, and those who weren’t dancing sat at the banquet tables, drinking wine and eating sumptuous food.
Liev, for some reason, simply hadn’t been able to find his appetite.
“Son.” King Aron cleared his throat awkwardly, and immediately Liev knew what the topic of conversation was going to be. “I noticed you speaking with some very beautiful young women.”
Swallowing, Liev nodded. “Yes.”
“Did any of them in particular catch your eye?”
No, because none of them are our mate, his dragon snapped, taking on a tone that Liev would never consider taking with his father in person.
“I... they were all very nice,” he said, in as noncommittal a tone as he could.
“You know that in the next few days, one of them will be selected as your future bride,” his father said, after a moment’s pause. “And it would make me happier to know it was one you actually liked.”
Liev said nothing. He watched the dancers at the ball.
No. No. No.
His dragon howled, fire puffing from its nostrils in fury.
There’s no point in complaining, Liev told his dragon for what seemed like the four hundredth time. I only have a few days to find my mate anyway. And that is most certainly not going to happen. He grimaced as his dragon tried to interrupt. A match with a princess would be good for our clan.
His dragon receded, sulking, a few small puffs of smoke trailing up from its nostrils. But at least it didn’t say anything further about its mate.
A lot of dragons are perfectly happy without their mates, Liev told himself. And besides, this is about more than my personal happiness. This is about the future of my clan. And we promised we’d never be reckless or selfish again.
“I know it seems like a difficult decision now,” his father said. “But I assure you that –”
His father’s words cut off suddenly. Liev blinked, uncertain.
“Father?” he said – before, to his shock, he saw a stricken expression come over his father’s face, as he broke out of the trance he had seemingly drifted into.
“The hoard,” King Aron whispered, his voice hoarse. “There is... something is...”
“The hoard?” Liev asked, suddenly on alert. Aside from their mates and their clans, dragons’ hoards were their most precious possessions. They drew energy and power from them, and without a hoard, a dragon would slowly lose all their magic. “Father, what’s wrong? What is –”
Then, suddenly, Liev felt it too. As king, Aron was the dragon most intimately connected to the Drakos clan’s treasure – but now, Liev felt an urgent fear pulse through him.
Someone is trying to steal from our hoard.
Liev felt his face curl into a snarl.
Without thinking, he turned on his heel, heading for the doors as his dragon growled furiously, rising up within his chest, wings spread, fire licking at its jaws. Who dares to touch our hoard?
Now that the initial shock at the unexpected turn of events was wearing off, Liev began to feel rage overtaking him. What kind of dishonorable dragon would use their invitation into the castle to sneak into the Drakos clan’s treasure vaults?
Whoever they were and whatever they had planned, it was obviously carefully orchestrated. The vaults were protected by ancient magic – not to mention the fact that every Drakos dragon would sense it the moment anyone who shouldn’t be there touched any of their precious treasures.
Maybe they thought we’d all be too distracted by the ceremony and the ball, Liev thought grimly.
They’re stupid, then, his dragon hissed. As if we would ever allow an outsider to touch our hoard, no matter what else was hap
pening.
Liev found he couldn’t help but agree. He had sensed it almost the moment the magic had been breached. And when he found out who had been sneaking around his clan’s treasure, there would be hell to pay.
“A sword!” he called out as he approached the armored guards standing by the entrance to the great hall, awaiting his command. As heir to the throne, he was the commander of the Drakos Guards – the dragons who had protected the royal family for generations. And as commander, he was trained just as they were: he had been an expert swordsman by the time he turned fifteen. A guardsman tossed a sword to him, and he caught it easily, swinging it in a tight circle to warm up his arm.
“Liev, wait a moment.”
Liev turned to find Magnus alongside him, concern in his eyes.
“Don’t go. Let the guards deal with this. You don’t know what’s down there.”
Liev shook his head. He could understand why Magnus was concerned – but it was his duty to protect the hoard.
“I can handle myself, Magnus,” Liev replied. “Whatever it is, it will be sorry it tried anything.”
Magnus shook his head. “Look at it this way – it’s something strong enough to break the magic seals on the hoard. Something that made its way to the castle, despite the fact it’s inaccessible to anything that can’t fly.”
Liev only snorted in response, stopping in his tracks before turning to face Magnus. “Do you think I’m afraid?”
“No,” Magnus responded quietly. “But Liev... if you’re determined to go, and I’m getting the feeling that you are, please be careful. I’ve only just found you again.” A small smile ghosted across his face. “I’d kind of like to have you around for a little while longer.”
Liev felt a clutch in his heart. Reaching out, he grabbed Magnus’s shoulder, looking into his eyes. “Magnus, I swear I’m coming back,” he said. “Look, it’s probably just some minor dragon leader who’s got it into his head he’s entitled to something our family took off his centuries ago. I probably won’t even need this.” He lifted the sword, gesturing with his head. “Either way, we are the Drakos Clan. No one can stand against us.”
And with that thought in his head, his dragon breathing fire within him, Liev turned away, barreling down the steps to the vaults, the Drakos Guards at his back.
Be careful, brother. Magnus’s voice was in his head as he dashed away.
Quickly, Liev sent back I will, brother, before he lifted his sword, and steeled himself to face whatever he would find at the bottom of the stairs.
Chapter Four
Darklis
Grinning from ear to ear as she hauled her prize back down the aisle, Darklis was just beginning to look for a desk where she could settle down and read to her heart’s content when she heard a noise that made her stop in her tracks: the sound of the massive library doors being thrown open, and swift footsteps echoing through the huge chamber.
Gulping, Darklis clutched the book to her chest.
Seems like someone did miss me after all.
Maybe someone had noticed she wasn’t where she was supposed to be and come looking for her.
And here I am, holding a book I’m clearly not supposed to have, in a place I’m clearly not supposed to be.
Darklis took a deep breath. Well, she supposed she really had no one else but herself to blame for this. She’d allowed her curiosity to get the better of her. And now, she’d been caught.
The footsteps, rapid and loud, came closer.
Deciding it would probably be better to face up to whatever member of the Drakos Clan had come to put a stop to her clandestine reading without a precious book clutched to her chest, Darklis reluctantly placed the book back on the shelf. She felt a pang in her chest as her fingers lingered on the leather cover, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it now.
Swallowing, she balled her hands into fists. Time to face the music.
Better to get this over and done with, Darklis decided. She began striding down the aisle toward the door – only to stop dead in her tracks.
That... that feeling...
Darklis felt her blood run cold.
Whatever was here in the library with her was not a dragon.
Dragons could sense each other’s presence and even read each other’s thoughts – but the creature she could sense now... it was...
Just as Darklis began to realize what she was sensing, a man – a huge man, tall and broad and muscular, with close-cropped dark hair and a small snubbed nose – rounded the corner, almost barreling straight into her.
“Get away!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the vaulted library, his voice little more than a bestial roar.
Darklis, in her surprise, jumped back, crouching defensively.
A manticore.
The man snarled at her, features twisted. Darklis felt her heart racing as she tried to figure out what was going on – and didn’t have much success.
A manticore? In Drakos Castle? How can that –
It was only then that Darklis noticed the long golden scepter the manticore held in his hands. Richly inlaid with jewels and decorated on one end with a golden dragon, its wings spread and mouth breathing a stream of ruby fire, it was clearly part of the Drakos Clan’s hoard.
And he’s stealing it.
The realization came to Darklis with a jolt.
The manticore was here trying to steal this from the Drakos Clan’s vaults, while everyone was busy with the ceremony.
It was a stupid plan, of course – every Drakos dragon within a hundred miles would know the second a manticore touched their hoard, especially a piece as magnificent as this.
But maybe the manticore didn’t know that. From the way he was clearly sweating, his eyes wide with something close to panic, Darklis had to guess he didn’t.
“Get out of my way,” he growled.
He was massive – and he’d have massive manticore strength to go with it. Darklis didn’t think she could take him in a fight – but then, he was clearly running from something.
So all I have to do is keep him here until they catch up.
“What’re you doing here?” she asked, fixing him with what she hoped was a convincingly stupid expression. “Did the ceremony end? Where is everyone?”
The manticore glanced over his shoulder, before growling at her again. “Look, either you can move or I’ll make you move.” He clenched his fist, raising it. “Get it?”
“Hey, that’s a pretty amazing stick you have there,” Darklis continued on as if she hadn’t heard him. “Where’d you get it?”
Darklis cringed internally to hear her own voice coming out in such an air-headed tone, but it was better that the manticore think she was simply a silly little dragon with no brain in her head than anyone who might be a threat to him.
If only I can delay him just a little bit longer... please!
At that moment, as if her prayers had been answered, she heard shouts from the corridor outside the library. The massive wooden door was flung open with a crash that reverberated throughout the room once more.
“In here!”
“Shit,” the manticore swore furiously, looking wildly behind him.
Darklis barely had time to move before he’d shoved her aside, the force of his push jolting her painfully against the bookshelf. The manticore was just as strong as he looked, and despite her dragon strength, Darklis was knocked aside as if she weighed nothing at all.
But still, the sound as she tumbled against the bookshelf echoed through the room, as did the sound of approaching feet.
“Over here!” she called out, jumping to her feet again. “He’s here!”
“Who’s there?” A man’s voice, deep and rich, rang out. “Show yourself!”
Darklis bit her lip, before quickly chastising herself for hesitating. This was no time to be concerned about the trouble she had gotten herself into.
“It’s – I’m here,” she called out. “I’m Darklis Novak.”
“N
ovak?” The man – whom she still couldn’t see – sounded suspicious.
“Yes – but there’s a manticore here,” Darklis said quickly. “He’s hiding somewhere in the library.”
Despite not being able to see him, Darklis heard the man’s quick, shocked intake of breath. “A manticore? Are you sure?”
“Certain!”
From somewhere deeper in the library, Darklis heard something clattering to the floor. Without waiting to see if the mystery man was following her, Darklis took to her heels, running in the direction of the sound. She could sense the manticore’s presence somewhere ahead of her – not to mention hear him snorting in anger as he crashed into something else, sending it crashing to the floor.
No need to wonder what the manticore had knocked over, as in the next second she saw it: a bronze statue of a dragon in flight mounted on a white marble pedestal came into view in the gloom of the library, toppled between the shelves and blocking her path.
It was a temporary obstacle at best – Darklis simply leapt over it, gathering her long robes in her fists as she jumped.
“Are you all right?” her mystery man shouted from somewhere else in the library, clearly reacting to clatter of the falling statue.
“I’m fine – let’s just find this manticore,” Darklis shouted back. She sprinted onwards, letting her dragon, with its heightened senses and awareness, come forward.
Where is the manticore, her dragon snarled, smoke rising from its jaws. We will teach it a lesson.
Yes, yes, Darklis responded. But let’s find it first, shall we?
She could sense its presence – like a dark cloud on the horizon – as it moved between the shelves. Despite the fact it was being pursued by two dragons, the manticore seemed to be slowing down. Its movements weren’t quite as frantic or fast as they had been.
And there was something else there too, Darklis realized as she sent her dragon’s senses forward, seeing through the darkness in a way her eyes could not.
Almost like... almost like...