Iris's Guardian (White Tigers of Brigantia Book 2)

by Lisa Daniels

  “It’s considered polite to answer back,” Lystra added stiffly, hoping the dragon wouldn’t turn out to be some uneducated, feral ragamuffin, incapable of basic decency. That might make the days passing by harder to endure.

  Eventually, the dragon let out some kind of grunt, which she presumed meant some greeting or another, and her irritation flared higher, dissolving her initial thoughts of how attractive he looked. Nothing less attractive than a shaggy-haired grunter. Perhaps he sensed her irritation, for he said, “Sorry. It’s customary for us to not talk to you yet. I may not be the dragon that’s in charge of you.”

  Confusion wrought Lystra’s pretty features. “What? Why?”

  The dragon pointed outside to where the noise of the arena blared out. “The dragons will fight for the chance to have you as their princess. I’m merely the carrier. I bring you here.”

  “Wait.” Lystra held up a hand. “So I don’t belong to you?”

  “Not unless I win the fight,” the dragon confirmed. He appeared rather dispassionate about this. “Though there’s a lot of fierce competitors this year. I’ll likely await my chances for when the scene’s less flooded.”

  For some reason, this statement infuriated Lystra. “You don’t find me attractive?”

  “What? That’s not what I said.”

  “You’re not going to even bother fighting for me? Am I that dismissible?” She perfected the bottom lip wobble for good measure.

  “No! I didn’t say that. You’re very attractive.” The shifter raised up his hands helplessly. “It’s just there’s about seventeen other dragons who will be competing for you. You’ve been plucked at a prime time. I prefer to wait until something easier comes along.”

  “Princesses,” Lystra hissed, her emotions burning, her presence practically emitting flames from her skin, “are not supposed to be easy. Defending them is hard work. If you win a competition against other, strong competitors, it proves you’re worthy of defending that princess. You’re a worthy opponent for the Questers!”

  Wait, what was she even saying? She didn’t want this dragon as her keeper. Or did she? She didn’t know, but his “easy way out” attitude pissed her off.

  “Whoa, calm down,” the dragon said, unleashing a wry smile. The smile transformed his gruff face into a kindly one. “I didn’t realize you liked the look of me so much.”

  “That’s… that’s not what I said…” Lystra protested feebly, as the dragon raised one eyebrow, pursed his lips, and inspected her with more interest.

  “Well, suppose I better register, then. Just give me a second. I’m gonna eat. Then I’ll take you down to the arena. And for future reference, the name’s Tarek.”

  Dumbfounded, Lystra watched as the dragon headed into the kitchen. He sniffed appreciatively at the cauldron, and a little black and white cat which Lystra hadn’t noticed before raised up its tail from the pile of tablecloths it sat on, and meowed.

  “Yes, it’s okay, Scruffles.” Tarek started stroking “Scruffles” the cat, who had a huge white splotch on its face, resembling a sword. “Who’s a good boy? Eh?” Scruffles raised up his rear end when the dragon scratched, enjoying it so much that he lost balance and fell over.

  “You have a cat?”

  “Is it that obvious?” He didn’t bother elaborating, and Lystra rolled her eyes, now resisting the desire to punch him. Rage seethed inside her stomach, and she felt it as if it was a reservoir lingering inside her. Best not to let herself keep giving into her rage impulses, and just breathe calmly to reduce stress. Just like her mother taught her.

  Lystra ventured over to where Tarek cooked and saw him examine the cauldron, before sitting in his kitchen chair and picking up the book, labelled Dragons and Damsels, book four – The Princess of Lust. Lystra’s eyes almost popped out of her head. This dragon was reading romance. And, judging by the racy cover picture of a princess sprawled seductively as a dragon towered above her, she was willing to bet that the pages were heavily saturated in erotica.

  Her cheeks flamed intensely, and Tarek glanced up, a slight leer upon his face. “Oh dear. Not comfortable with this?” He held the book up.

  “Why are you even reading that?” She attempted some sort of bravado, but the dragon’s smirk grew wider.

  Licking his lips, he read to her, much to her horror, “And the princess felt heavy, uncontrollable longing for the dragon known as Magrid. She became as wet as a river, her eyes shining like the very stars above. When he peeled apart her luscious little clothes, one by one, revealing the creamy milk of her skin, he saw how eagerly her breasts leapt to his attention, and he bent before her, letting himself suckle on those bulbous love mounds…” Tarek cleared his throat. “Honestly, the writing’s terrible and cringeworthy at times, but once you get to the meat of the scene, it does a fine job.”

  “What job?” Lystra said in a strangled voice.

  Tarek didn’t bother to answer that. Just smiled wider. Lystra’s cheeks flamed with embarrassment and she turned away, keeping her focus on the cat, Scruffles. The cat stared at her with lazy green eyes before yawning, exposing all of his sharp teeth.

  No way. Dragons read erotica about princesses? They thought about doing things like that with princesses? Oh Gods. The embarrassment sent a fever through her skin, made her stomach twist up into knots, and she wanted to dash out of the cave and run away screaming into the Wilderness, until some monster scooped her up. At least she didn’t have to worry about being eaten, right? Just as she contemplated this, the smell of delicious, mouth-watering food hit her nostrils, and her stomach gave an unprincess-like gurgle.

  “Food’s up. Help yourself,” Tarek said, and she heard the creak of the chair as he got up, abandoning his book. Her blush still hadn’t evaporated, but Lystra headed over to the cauldron anyway, determined to hold herself in place.

  I now regret goading this dragon into entering the princess knock-out competition or whatever it is they do. She heard the announcer shrieking something, and the crowd roar in rapturous delight. I sincerely hope he doesn’t win.

  Tarek dipped his plate into the cauldron, and the food jumped onto the plate, arranging itself in a delicious way. The tango fork then soared over to his hand, along with the knife, and he promptly left to eat at the table without another word. Nervous, Lystra collected a white plate and held it above the cauldron, and some food obligingly leapt out of the green froth onto the platter. She received an array of fish rice rolls and vegetables – amongst her favorite foods – and blinked in surprise. She thought she saw the cauldron wiggle smugly.

  She let out a shriek as a pair of chopsticks came hurtling towards her like thrown spears, and impaled themselves in two of the rolls. She let go of the plate, and the plate stopped its fall a few centimeters from the ground, vibrating in indignation.

  “Sorry,” she whispered to the plate, which gave one last tremor before accepting her apology and falling still. Tarek had watched the whole display with amusement curling his lips, even as he tucked into what resembled a bloody rare steak. Determined not to sit anywhere near him, she chose one of the armchairs by the bookcase, trying not to glance at any of the provocative titles. It proved difficult, because her eyes kept sliding over to the bookshelf, picking out titles like: The Virgin Princess, The Dragon’s Harem, or Coming with Style, Hardcore Edition.

  Gods, Tarek had a library full of erotica. Wanting to scrub out her eyes with soap, she concentrated on her fish rolls. They tasted as appetizing as they smelled, and the chopsticks helped her in the process, making sure they didn’t slip in her hands or allow the food to escape. Nice little things, really, aside from hurling themselves at her earlier. They were quite eager to help her eat.

  When she finished the food and sat in the armchair, resting as the plate floated away to let itself be cleaned, the chopsticks waved goodbye to her. She let out a yelp when Tarek stood before her in all his shaggy glory.

  “I advise you to get off the seat now, or I’ll start reading to you a passag
e from Orgasms with Dragons.”

  Lystra launched herself off the seat as if it had suddenly caught fire, and glared as Tarek started laughing. “Oh, princess,” he chortled. “It’s going to be so easy to tease you. Now I have to win this competition.”

  Please don’t. Seriously concerned he might win and she would become the princess of an openly lecherous dragon, she went off to the toilet to relieve herself and brush herself down, then followed Tarek morosely out to the arena.

  Chapter Three

  Inside the arena, Lystra was ushered towards a high-rise tower, where she sat on a velvet seat alone, the clear center of attention for the crowd. The purple-clad announcer paced around the arena, yelling through a sound amplifier.

  “Today, we have a princess from Porak Kingdom! And I must say, the lineup this year for the brawl’s looking fantastic! We have no less than eighteen competitors this year!” Cheers rang out from his speech. “Just as well we have the room for it! It might get messy!”

  The crowd cheered again, with some of the monsters on the stands jumping up and down. Now that Lystra got a better view of the crowd, she spotted a disproportionate amount of monsters, from ogres to goblins to trolls, all sitting next to dragon shifters, all of them clearly happy to be there. Witch servers went from row to row, giving out snacks and beverages, keeping morale strong.

  Eighteen dragons strolled out from a dark, portcullis-shadowed corridor in the arena, all of them in their full dragon attires. Colors ranged from all shades of the rainbow, along with mud and monotone combinations. Rarer still were the two-and three-shaded dragon color palettes. Only one dragon displayed this palette – pink and purple and white, and the crowd gave this one an extra loud cheer.

  “We even have a female competitor this year! Take a look at Karley, what a beautiful set of colors on her, wow…” The commentator was clearly besotted with Karley’s color pattern, and the crowd laughed as he danced up in front of Karley, who blew him a kiss through her teeth. The announcer let out a shy chuckle, puffing his chest out impressively and preening his dark brown hair.

  Lystra spotted Tarek fourth from the end, the deepest red color out of all the dragons, as if dipped in blood, or bathed in the rays of a dying sun. He wasn’t even originally going to enter this competition. He would have quite cheerfully dumped her here and left her to be fought over by the other dragons. Why didn’t I keep my big mouth shut? I’m an idiot. I don’t want to be with a perverted dragon!

  The dragons all faced each other in a wide circle, a ten-meter gap between each one. Their tails swished in calculation. Lystra wondered what would happen if they all started blasting fire. Would the stands melt? Or did they have some kind of enchantment that protected the audience? Probably that. Most of the dragons glanced up to her as they waited, and she noticed the disturbingly long stare from Tarek, and a possible smirk on his scaly lips. Please lose. Please lose.

  The announcer crawled into a tower of his own, lower than Lystra’s, and he wiped sweat off his nose before taking a deep, air-snatching breath, and bellowing into the amplifier, “You all know the rules! When your health bracelet breaks, that means you’ve lost the fight. On my count of three, the match will begin! May the best dragon win, and claim his or her reward of our riveting princess, waiting demurely in the tower!”

  Demurely? Lystra didn’t feel very demure, but at the thousands of eyes feasting upon her once more, she figured she may as well put on a show. That was what she’d been trained for. She stood up from her seat, and gave a royal curtsy. The crowd burst into tumultuous cheers.

  “One. Two. THREE! GO!” The commentator screeched hoarsely into the amplifier, and the dragons charged at one another. Several tried sideways charges instead, tripping their opponents off balance. Three, like Tarek, loitered on the outside of the brawl, not bothering to fight.

  Eighteen health bars flashed on a magical screen, maintained by a bored illusion mage above them. Everyone in the arena could see the bars if they glanced up to the sky, where the screen obscured the clouds, fully black with green health bars that ticked away with each accumulated damage.

  Immediately, the personalities and fighting styles of the dragons became clear. You had the reckless, strong and fiery ones who had launched themselves straight into battle, either fighting several opponents at once, or deliberately seeking out opponents. Then there were the exploiters, who only fought when they saw another dragon had engaged, making it two-on-one fights. Others picked on smaller dragons, and the three on the outskirts merely watched the battle, keeping themselves at a far enough distance to not make it worthwhile to charge at, lest their attackers got harassed from behind.

  There were cheers and boos, and the announcer spoke so fast into his amplifier, Lystra had a hard time following, so instead made her own observations of the match. She should have expected that Tarek wouldn’t be reckless. His original choice to stay out of the match confirmed that mentality.

  The health bracelets were a clean, safe way to fight. It seemed that every slash, bite and pillar of fire that bathed the dragons was instead inflicted upon the health bracelet – a buffer against damage. When a bracelet broke, it made an audible clang sound, like cymbals clashing, and the loser trailed out of the arena in shame, dejection, or pride for having lasted so long.

  As expected, the super aggressive ones fell first. Unfortunately, the exploiters survived longer, until some of the dragons formed temporary alliances to ring out the exploiters. A few chose to chase after a dragon creeping on the outside, who merely ran from them. Finally, Tarek needed to engage with someone who had already had most of his health battered down, so it only took him a few swipes to shatter it. He barely sustained any damage. To Lystra’s horror, she realized that Tarek might actually win if he kept this up.

  Seven dragons now existed on the field. All but one of the super aggressive ones had been cleaned out – and the last reckless charger had aligned himself with a yellow-scaled exploiter. Tarek kept moving himself out of the field of vision of the fighters, before launching himself at a weakened dragon who had tried to flee combat. Taking him down, he then reared up and gestured furiously to the aggressive fighter, grabbing the attention of the dragons advancing on him. A moment later, Tarek had two allies, and they tore into the aggressor and exploiter, who were battering down Karley by attacking her from two sides.

  Despite herself, Lystra had to admire Tarek’s cool combat acumen, even though she saw the crowd acted less favourably to that style of fighting, and instead roared their approval of the reckless, powerful fighters.

  He’s improving his chances of victory. He’s accessing threats. He’s not an exploiter like the others. He’s a lurker. A late game contender. Drat. She was really getting into this, wasn’t she? She hated herself for it, but still watched on the edge of her seat anyway, her heart pounding the blood around her body as the brawl unfolded.

  The four versus two fight turned into a three versus two as Karley’s bracelet broke, then two versus two as one of Tarek’s allies was forced out of the battle. Now Tarek’s patience proved strong, because he collectively had the most health out of all of them there – and his ally seemed unwilling to switch sides against him, perhaps not registering this fact.

  One versus two. The yellow exploiter snarled his annoyance as the bracelet broke.

  Finally, the black-scaled, reckless dragon’s bracelet broke, much to the groans of the crowd. Karley’s damage from earlier came in handy – she had managed to chip off a fifth of the reckless one’s health by herself before being ousted.

  Now Tarek faced his former ally, who had taken the brunt of the damage against the aggressor. The blue dragon let out a snarl and charged at Tarek, and the red dragon smashed into him with brutal ferocity.

  The blue dragon’s bracelet shattered with the sound of cymbals.

  When it was just down to two versus one, he should have switched sides and gone on Tarek. Idiot, Lystra thought. Tarek still had around half of his health bracelet left, an
d he stood up on his hind legs, basking in the cheers of the crowd as the announcer screamed his victory.

  Meanwhile, Lystra sat frozen in her seat, her heart having braked to an ungainly stop. The bastard had actually won.

  She groaned and placed her head in her hands.

  Chapter Four

  Great. Just great. Back in Tarek’s place, Lystra immediately started plotting her escape. Tarek walked around, rather smug with himself, a little gleeful of Lystra’s frantic panic as she bustled around his cavern, making herself busy.

  “Why do I get the impression you’re seriously regretting your decision, princess?” Tarek purred, leaning on one elbow, not bothering to conceal his amusement. “One might think you didn’t do that inspirational speech to get me to enter the arena.”

  “I didn’t know you were a… a… pervert!” Lystra waved her hands in distress.

  “No? You could have just looked around better. It’s not like I was hiding the books.”

  “I don’t want to be with a pervert who thinks about doing things with princesses! I have my chastity to think of here!”

  Tarek practically burbled in delight. “Ah, yes. I might get too excited and ravage you, because of those nasty books giving me strange ideas.”

  It took Lystra a few frightening seconds to register that he was deliberately teasing her. “You fiend.”

  “Original. We’re all fiends here.” Tarek let out a yawn, then seized one of his books. “Now, there’s a good passage in Tales of a Dragon’s Princess…”

  “No!” Lystra shrieked, clapping hands over her ears and dashing out of the room into the corridor. She then desperately tried each door until she found a stairwell leading hopefully up to a tower, and darted up there. Sure enough, Tarek had indeed stuck to tradition – designing a single, circular room on top with everything she needed, including the appropriate cobwebs and spiders hanging from their traps on the ceiling. The floor spat out dust when she stamped over it, and she flumped into a rather musty smelling bed, likely unwashed for months. Drat, she’d need to start on that as soon as possible. She lay there for a minute, waiting to hear if Tarek followed. When he didn’t, she got out of bed and examined the copper bathtub attached to some shoddy plumbing, and the toilet, isolated in a small, boxed-off room in the corner.