City in Ruins

by R. K. Ryals

  City in Ruins

  By R.K. Ryals

  Copyright © Regina K. Ryals 2015

  Smashwords Edition

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Acknowledgements

  There are a lot of people involved in this project that I want to thank. To my husband, who is diligently behind me in everything I do. To my children, because you are my life. To my sisters, who help inspire me every day. To Audrey Welch, because you help keep me smiling. I love you. To Christina Silcox, I seriously could not have done this without you. For staying up with me on those final nights even when I know you were tired means more than you will ever know. I adore you. To Melissa Ringsted because you aren’t just an editor, you hold a special place in my heart always. To Cora Graphics, who gave this book its absolutely beautiful cover. You are impressively talented. To Melissa Wright, because I’m not sure when this journey became so personal for us, but it’s created a lasting friendship I couldn’t live without. To everyone who supports these books, I love you. To Bree High. Elizabeth Kirke, Whitney Deboe, Ashley Morgan, Alicia Lane Kirke, Jessica Johnson, Lisa Markson, Nanette Bradford, Katherine Eccleston, Ashley Ubinger, Beth Maddox, Vicky Walters, Katy Austin, Amy McCool, Julia Roop, Pyxi Rose, Alexis O’Shell, Anne Nelson, Jessie de Schepper, Derinda Love, Jodi O’Brien, Merisha Abbott, Tina Donnelly, Jessica Leonard, Lynn Shaw, Leah Davis, and so many, many more. All of you truly inspire me! And to the fans: you make every day worth it. Your words and your kindness mean so much. I can’t thank you enough for reading. It truly means the world. Sharing the love of reading one book at a time! From my heart to yours!

  To anyone who has ever believed in dragons, swordfights, and talking to the trees …

  The pen is mightier than the sword

  ~Edward Bulwer-Lytton

  Prologue

  There was something about Medeisia at night, about the way the shadows leapt and danced through the castle fortress in Aireesi. Creatures spoke to each other in the palace, ghosts wailed, and memories crawled through the stone. Blood seeped up through the dungeons. None of it visible. It was felt, the air a heavy place full of heartache, hope, and rebellion.

  Prince Cadeyrn of Sadeemia stood along the ramparts at the top of the palace, his hands gripping the stone, his narrowed, intense gaze on the village below, on the swaying forest bathed in moonlight. Above him, a dragon sailed across a full moon, gliding through the air before lowering, his golden figure brilliant.

  “You rarely sleep,” a deep voice said.

  Cadeyrn kept his body rigid, his gaze searching. There was little that surprised him.

  “I doubt you came here to comment on my sleep schedule, Lochlen.”

  The dragon chuckled, wisps of smoke rising into the air. “Yes, I suppose I didn’t.” There was a moment of silence before a russet-haired man suddenly appeared next to the prince, the transformed dragon’s hands finding the rampart next to Cadeyrn’s. “Medeisia has come a long way over the past five months,” he breathed.

  “Not far enough,” Cadeyrn replied. He glanced at the dragon. “Unrest grows beyond the borders. There’s no doubt now. We’ll be going to war with New Hope.”

  Lochlen shrugged. “It’s a small nation.”

  Cadeyrn snorted. “It’s a rich nation rising up against two weakened kingdoms. Did you come here to give me hope, dragon? Or did you come here because you needed to hear it for yourself?”

  Lochlen sighed, a stream of fire meeting the still night. It threw an orange glow across the prince next to him, deepening the shadows of his face. “I came here because you’re going to need me.”

  “You’ve gotten your pendant. There’s no reason for the dragons to continue being involved in human affairs. Enjoy the peace.”

  “There is,” Lochlen protested. “You know it as well as me.” He glanced at the prince. “If you return to Sadeemia, you’re going to need to appoint a ruler.”

  Cadeyrn’s jaw tensed. “Are you asking to be a king?”

  “No, I’m asking to take a human consort.”

  Cadeyrn froze. “You can’t possibly—”

  “The dragons need a voice on the council. Medeisia may be a human kingdom, but the dragons ruled it first, and I will not let that be forgotten. My father is getting old, prince. You know as well as I do what it means to bear the weight of a people. I carry the burden of a dying race. Still, we are stronger than most believe. Build your villages. Live your lives peacefully, but don’t forget the dragons in the mountains.”

  “You can’t have her,” Cadeyrn stated flatly.

  Lochlen sneered. “Why? Because you can’t? I’m Dracon. I am not looking for a lover. After all, I’m not human. I’m looking for a voice. But all you humans seem to understand is alliances, using people as pawns to keep yourselves in power. I don’t need a queen. I need a human voice.”

  “Have you asked her?” Cadeyrn inquired. “Whether you look for a lover or not, her reputation will be tarnished by the title alone.”

  Lochlen stared into the night, his yellow-green eyes flashing. “We’re bound by the pendant, prince. She has as much dragon in her now as she does human. I trust no one else.”

  After a moment, Cadeyrn replied, “I wouldn’t either. It’s a smart move.”

  Lochlen glanced at him. “It is the burden of rulers. To never be allowed to have what they truly want but needing to do things they otherwise wouldn’t care to do.”

  Cadeyrn’s hands tightened on the stone. “You want to be involved so heavily in human affairs?” His gaze slid to the dragon, his eyes sharp. “And if it means leaving Medeisia again? If it means fighting a war on foreign soil? If it means becoming entwined in foreign politics? This isn’t just about a battlefield anymore. This is about alliances, treaties, and endless hours of bickering councils.”

  “It’s what we fought for,” Lochlen answered. “The rebels fought for freedom. They’ll do whatever it takes to keep it, and I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure they do. I’ll do it because, whether the dragons want to admit it or not, we care about these people. They respect us. It’s a good relationship we hope to maintain.”

  Cadeyrn straightened, his shoulders back, his gaze sliding to a large building just on the edge of the forest, near the castle and bordering Aireesi. It was a new building still under construction in places, but it was livable. The new scribe school, the one presided over by Medeisia’s head scribe.

  “She’d make a good queen,” Cadeyrn said. He didn’t whisper it. He wasn’t one for hiding truths.

  “Yes,” Lochlen replied, “she would. It’s a shame she’ll never get the chance.”

  Answering silence was soon met by a deep sigh. “Protect her, dragon. We’ve yet to see the worst of this war. We’ve yet to see the worst of its politics.”

  Lochlen stepped back, transforming into the beautiful golden dragon he’d been before, his large head swinging, his yellow-green eyes glowing. His wings spread.

  “The tattoos may be gone, but the marked in this country will always be marked. We don’t have to protect them anymore. We need to let them forge a new trail.”

  He took to the air, his wings flapping before he caught the air currents and glided into the night.

  Below, a light came on in the scribe school, a diminutive figure moving through the upper chambers. Cadeyrn watched her. Candle in hand, the woman paused at a desk near the window. Placing an open book before her, she sat, her gaze poring over the pages. Every night she did this. Every night she soaked in as much knowledge about her country and the kingdoms surrounding
it as she could. Every night, Cadeyrn watched her from the palace.

  Tonight, as he did every night, he vowed to make it his last.

  Part I

  Division

  Chapter 1

  Ink called to me. It told me things that nothing else ever could. It came alive, spoke to my soul, and left me feeling less restless. It was that way with Escreet, the Goddess of the Scribes. She made me calm in a sea of swelling mage powers. Unlike the forest, words were quiet. It was what made them so powerful for it was my connection with Escreet that saved half of the rebels in the end with King Raemon. At times, I felt like my heart was made of the trees and forest, my veins filled with ink, my soul with dragonfire.

  “You hide too often in parchment filled rooms,” a voice grumbled.

  My lips twitched. “Just do me a favor and don’t sneeze.”

  The dragon behind me huffed. “Do you think me so petty?”

  Closing the leather bound tome in front of me, I pushed back my chair and stood. “It’s late, Lochlen.” Turning, I found myself facing the russet-haired man I’d come to love. He wasn’t as impressive as his dragon counterpart, but he was close. “You didn’t come here to complain about parchment.”

  Lochlen winked, his auburn hair like burning embers around his shoulders. He leaned against the door frame, his right foot sweeping the floor as if it were a tail rather than a foot. His restlessness while in human form used to unsettle me, but now I found myself drawn to him because of it. It was nice knowing I wasn’t the only one who felt constrained in my body. My constraint was different than his, but it was there.

  “You aren’t the first to question my motives tonight.” His gaze swept past me to the window at my back before returning to my face. “We need to speak, Stone. I have an offer for you.”

  A sudden wind blew the loosely latched window behind me open, the rough voice of the trees filling the room. “Being propositioned by a prince of dragons is suspicious.”

  Lochlen glared. “Mind your business, trees,” he growled, smoke curling from his nose. “I come on Dracon business, not on a mission for Silveet.”

  I smiled. “I’m apt to agree with the trees. What have you come for, Lochlen?”

  He glanced around the room. There was nothing hesitant about the dragon. He was always sure, always acutely aware of everything.

  “You’ve done a lot of good here,” he breathed.

  My heart swelled with pride. Thanks to a few edicts written by Prince Cadeyrn of Sadeemia, I’d managed to open a school for scribes in Medeisia. It was a work in progress, but it was an economic boon. Not only was it opening up knowledge and possibilities for the people, it was giving laborers employment. Cadeyrn had over seen the hiring and the supplies, keeping in close contact with his brother, Arien, in Sadeemia. Arien was acting king of the country now that their father was comatose. The brothers had seen a lot of tragedy, a lot of heartache, and death. Both had lost sons.

  “So you came to compliment me then?” I asked.

  Lochlen’s yellow-green eyes bored into mine. “Become my human consort,” he blurted.

  I froze, my lips parting. All of the facts I’d ever read or learned about dragons suddenly overwhelmed me, swirling through my head as if my body were human parchment. If I looked down at my fingers, I wouldn’t be surprised to see them dripping ink.

  Beyond the room, the trees laughed, the grating sound causing my spine to tingle.

  “B-but you’re a dragon,” I sputtered.

  Lochlen’s brows rose. “Is it so disgusting an idea?”

  “You’re a dragon,” I repeated.

  “We’ve established that.”

  I stared. “Lochlen, I—”

  “I’m not looking to mate with you, Stone. I need you as a voice on the council. A voice for the dragons.”

  After King Raemon’s removal from power, Prince Cadeyrn had not only gifted me a school, he’d given me the position of head scribe and a place on the Medeisian council, a chance to be a voice in our government.

  My head shook. “Lochlen, I’d be ridiculed.”

  “Why?” He scowled. “Because you’d be the presumed lover of a dragon? Is that so hard to imagine?”

  My gaze roamed the man in front of me, a dragon prince in human guise. I’d begun to see him differently after Raemon’s fall, after we’d died and been brought back by the pendant. There were days when I felt like my body was too hot, as if my clothes restrained me, my connection with the dragons thrumming through my blood.

  “I would be honored to be your consort,” I whispered. “It’s not what you’re asking. It’s what people will believe.”

  “And you care so much for that?” Lochlen asked.

  I stiffened. Truth be told, I didn’t. Rumors surrounded me. There’d always been misconceptions and truths I’d had to endure and overcome. First I was the illegitimate daughter of a noble and a prophesied savior. Then, I was the lover of a bastard prince, the war trophy of Sadeemian royalty, and the illegitimate daughter of a powerful government official. Illegitimacy was the one constant.

  My hand fell back to the desk behind me. “Do dragons do that?” I asked, my fingers playing with parchment. “Take human lovers I mean?”

  Lochlen scoffed. “We don’t view love or mating the same way humans do. We mate to survive.”

  “You love,” I argued. “Feras loved your mother.”

  Lochlen froze, although his foot continued to sweep the floor. “I didn’t say we didn’t love, but we do mate to survive. Since we can’t conceive a child with a human, we don’t normally take them as lovers. It’s happened, but it’s rare.” His gaze raked my figure. “Always the curious one, Stone.”

  My face heated, not from embarrassment but from the truth of his statement. I dug too deep into a subject.

  “You’re already on the council as the dragon envoy,” I pointed out, but I knew even as I said it why he had come to me. He was a dragon envoy in Medeisia, but outside of Medeisia the dragons were not a favored race. In Sadeemia, I had spoken for the forest and for the dragons. This wasn’t about local politics.

  Clasping my hands in front of me, I murmured, “I accept.”

  Lochlen inclined his head, his yellow-green eyes shining. “I told Feras you would. You will do great things, Stone.”

  “You’ll do better things,” I commented. “You are the phoenix after all.”

  Pushing away from the wall, Lochlen stepped in front of me, his hands finding my shoulders. He squeezed them. “You were reborn with me, little bird, and you are my rider. The dragons trust you. Don’t let us down.”

  He turned away.

  “You realize that, as the consort of a dragon, not everyone will respect what I have to say,” I said, stopping him.

  He paused. “No, but they’ll respect who they think you belong to. They may not want to listen to a dragon, in human form or not, but they’ll listen before they’ll incur our wrath. The Dracon will always have fear on our side

  Another worry nagged at me. “This would make me unmarriageable.”

  Lochlen glanced back at me. “And you want to marry?”

  “No,” I murmured. The words had slipped from my mouth unbidden, but I couldn’t take them back.

  “He won’t look down on you, Stone,” Lochlen said suddenly. “If anything, it would be the opposite. He respects the decisions you’ve made to protect your people, the forest, and the dragons. He’s had to make the same kind of hard decisions.”

  There was no point pretending I didn’t know what he was talking about. “It doesn’t matter,” I replied.

  It did matter, but it shouldn’t. The prince of Sadeemia was just that, a prince and an acting king of Medeisia with a wife and an unborn baby on the way, his alliance with Henderonia stronger than ever. What he was put him stations above me and worlds away.

  I’d learned that people in power often had to sacrifice what they wanted for what needed to be done. Lochlen knew that, and I did, too.

  Chapter 2r />
  That night after Lochlen left, the dream came. It was a strange dream, white mist curling around my ankles before snaking up my body, enfolding me like a butterfly wrapped inside its cocoon. The cool wetness soaked me, causing my shift to cling to my skin, chilling me. I stood outside within the forest. A full moon bathed me in silver light.

  “She’s here,” the trees chanted.

  My frantic gaze searched the darkness. Yellow eyes stared at me from the bushes, and I clutched my wet clothes.

  “Oran,” I called.

  The wolf did not answer me, but she did, the ethereal woman I’d met in my chamber in Sadeemia. Silveet, Goddess of the Forest.

  Stepping free of the trees, she came to me, her hair silver, her face young. She wore a dress of flowers and a crown of thorns, her eyes as silver as her hair. She was different than the last time I’d seen her, not only in appearance, but in strength. Her power slammed into me.

  My head bowed.

  “You fear me,” she stated, her sing-song voice causing tears of joy to streak down my cheeks.

  “You’ve come to me before,” I replied vaguely. In Medeisia, the gods never came unless they wanted something. In most cases, the relationship with a god ended in death or madness.

  She glided toward me. “The forest has asked a lot of you, Drastona. I’ve come to warn you once more.”

  We’d had a similar conversation in Sadeemia. I’d escaped madness then, and I hoped to escape it now.

  From the forest another figure emerged. My eyes widened, more tears spilling forth. This woman was as beautiful as Silveet, but where Silveet was light, this woman was dark. Midnight hair fell over pale shoulders, her body enfolded in dark cloth. Black eyes stared at me.

  “Daughter,” the new woman cried. She stepped forward, and though I wanted to recoil, I found myself eerily drawn to her. I knew this woman.