Deal with the Dragon (Immortals Ever After Book 1) Read online

  It had been years, but the part of me bruised by my failure still ached. “Thank you for reminding me,” I said. He sighed and even if I wasn’t gifted with the power of empathy, I sensed the waves of frustration emanating from him. “Is there nothing else that can be done?”

  “Elena, don’t be stubborn about this. If we back out of the contract, it would be devastating for Acasia.”

  That he would bring this up today when my longing for the capital and the castle was so strong wasn’t fair. I turned away from him to give myself time to think, without the pleading look on his face swaying my decision. My mind raced, which caused me to pace. Since they had sequestered me in the temple, I’d learned to be patient and consider my words before speaking. But I didn’t want to be patient or thoughtful now. As much as I loved the temple and my work, it wasn’t home like the castle.

  “Gideon,” I winced at the pleading tone in my voice.

  He sighed without meeting my eyes. “This isn’t only about The Dragon, Sister, or the crown. It’s about Father.” There was a pregnant pause until he continued, “He’s dying.”

  2

  Rhysander

  Old as the land itself and once teaming with magick as ancient as the stone, the mountain that surrounded the Northlands had been home to the Dragon-Clan for as far back as Immortals could recall.

  My father used to rattle about the endless crypts, plumbing their depths and spinning tales about our ancestors until he joined them many years ago, when I was still new to my wings. His spirit still lingered and as I’ve gotten older, I retraced his steps, though much has changed since he was alive.

  The constant drip of moisture from the ice river above kept me company as I wandered down the twists and turns. I could sense the loss of magick, of life. It’s as though the heart of the mountain, the stronghold of the Dragon-Clan, was ceasing to beat.

  I reached out a claw to trace the etchings in the stone walls that were worn soft with time. The drawings depicted different scenes from our history, the rise and fall of the Dragon-Clan—still the most powerful shifters in all of Acasia—but certainly not as strong in numbers as we were in days of old.

  “You spend too much time in these crypts, my friend,” came a familiar voice.

  I looked over my shoulder to find Alaric studying an etching of a dragon egg hatching from a bed of roses. “Better here than up there,” I answered. “Besides, I’m not the only one shirking my duties.”

  Alaric merely smiled serenely. What was it about the Fae that made them seem so aloof and mischievous at the same time? “We readied the carriages. Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you? Traveling alone in this climate is dangerous. Even for the mighty Lord of Dragons.”

  I allowed him to guide me through the passages back to the surface. Alaric knew the crypts almost as well as I did, though it wasn’t because he was raised here, it was because his Fae senses were more sensitive than my own. “I’ve more use for you here while I’m away. The humans are growing more and more restless, and I fear another attack is forthcoming. I’d rather travel with a small group of my best soldiers with you here to supervise.”

  Alaric studied me in the dim candlelight of the castle foyer. The sun shone in the Northlands most of the day, but it was almost always from behind a cover of dull, gray clouds. “You don’t want to take your time with your new bride? It will be your wedding night after all. Perhaps I should send along a gift.”

  I snorted as I dressed in a heavy cape and fastened the buckles on my dragonhide boots. “The last thing I want is to spend more time with the girl than I have to. I’ll fetch her from the castle, let the priests perform the binding ceremony, mate her, then bring her home. If I’m lucky, I’ll only have to see her at night thereafter to make sure she’s bred successfully. And there’s no way in Slaine I’d want a gift from you. The girl already has enough strings attached to her, I don’t need a faerie bargain along with it.”

  “If you think any woman would be happy with that arrangement, I think you’re sorely mistaken,” Alaric said, ignoring my dig. “Shifters are a feisty breed and their women are the worst of the lot. Giving orders and disparaging their males.” He shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it. You’re a glutton for punishment.”

  I didn’t answer as we headed for the carriages at the front of the castle and he knew I wouldn’t. I rarely talked about my first mate, and liked even less to be reminded of her. If I had a choice about the matter, I’d live the rest of my days in solitude along with the dying mountain, mating be damned.

  As the Lord of the Dragon-Clan, it was my responsibility to provide for their future and part of providing was continuing the line and delivering an heir. Like the rest of the shifters in Acasia, the Dragon-Clansmen had suffered from reduced numbers over the past few centuries, so continuing the line is even more imperative than ever.

  It’s why I agreed to the arrangement with King Baron twenty years ago. In exchange for my clansmen’s protection along his southern borders from the humans, he promised the hand of his firstborn daughter in return. In theory, a powerful shifter should be strong enough to carry a dragonborn child to term, especially if that shifter were the future queen. With most of my men at the southern border aiding the shifters in defending their lands against our restless human counterparts, we’re more in need of fresh blood than ever.

  Alaric stopped me as I prepared to mount my horse. Normally, I would have flown to the capital in my shifted form, but my future mate would need the carriages that followed me for the return trip.

  “You’ve heard the rumors, haven’t you? About the princess.”

  Oh, I’d heard rumors.

  That Elena of the Avian-Clan was more beautiful than the sunrise. That before she’d been disgraced, it had been foretold she’d be the most powerful queen of the age, even more powerful than her mother, who had been a rare shifter indeed. It’s why she they cast from the castle when she couldn’t shift. Cursed, they said.

  But who wasn’t cursed in this world, in one way or another?

  I lifted a brow. “I’ve heard the rumors, but I would prefer to observe them for myself.” My tone brooked no argument. Naturally, Alaric took no notice.

  “Her cousin, the queen-regent, another Avian-Clan named Seleste. Wouldn’t she suit better? Certainly, she’d be a more powerful alliance than the princess.”

  Mounting the horse, which snorted underneath me, I gathered the reins in my hand and sent Alaric a quelling look. “I have more power than I need, and the queen-regent is much too… enthusiastic for my tastes.”

  No, the princess would suit my needs nicely. If nothing else, her disgrace from the throne should make her more biddable, I hoped. The last thing I needed was another strong-willed, demanding female to share my bed. There were quite enough of those already.

  I waved to the gathering of Dragon-Clan members from the village and servants pouring from the castle to see me off.

  “If you’re counting on this girl to be as docile as you’re imagining, I have a feeling you will be disappointed,” Alaric said. “What if she turns out to be your true mate?”

  At that, I laughed. “I have no interest in anything other than an heir. As long as she’s pregnant within the year, I won’t be disappointed. Besides, no shifter, even a princess, is a match for my dragon.”

  I made no mention of true mates—such a thing was legend among our people. A faerie tale to encourage children to make favorable matches or what adolescent girls told themselves to make marrying an ancient match more attractive. True mates were a thing of lore—Immortal mates who would bring Acasia back from damnation.

  My horse snorted, and I patted his shoulder. “Indeed,” I murmured.

  Seven interminable nights passed since I departed from my beloved mountains in Fellenor, the Northlands’ capital city. A small regiment of men accompanied me across the Northlands at a breakneck pace where we boarded a ship in the tiny village of Haran on the coast. Crossing the Frozen Bay had been a
rduous and required long hours in my shifted form, breathing fire at the glaciers that blocked our path. I would melt them and they’d freeze as soon as the ship was through.

  By the time we reached the Corinthine Woods just north of the capital city of Aurelia, frost coated the furs worn by most of the regiment. A vicious blizzard blotted out all sight when we disembarked from the ship, but I could tell the moment I set foot to frost that something was wrong. The port village of Braedon was little more than a shantytown, a stop for travelers on their way to the Northlands. Despite this, it was too quiet, too still. Though the village was small, the times I’ve traveled to and from the Northlands, it bustled with life.

  The only sound came from the howling of the wind as it whipped through our furs and capes. The swirling snow hampered visibility to mere feet in front of us.

  “Do you smell that?” my lieutenant, Adriel, asked. At his words, the others in our small group scented the air.

  I lifted my head to the wind, my nostrils flaring as I pulled in a deep breath. An acrid taste bathed the back of my throat and coated my tongue. A familiar taste. Ash and ember and brimstone.

  “Fire,” Adriel breathed. “There’s a fire close.”

  Drawing my weapon, I motioned the others behind me. The scent of burning wood and blistering leather grew stronger as we pierced the blizzard’s lacy arms in the direction of town. Soon, the white flurries became tinged with gray soot, dancing along with the pristine flakes. It smeared on our faces and coated our boots and furs in a thick layer of grime. Adriel was the first to reach the outer edges of Braedon. What he saw brought him up short.

  The village, what was left of it, was a smoldering ruin. Tendrils of black smoke curled up from what remained of the wooden buildings and mixed with the falling snow, turning the ground at our feet to soiled slush. It was eerily quiet. Not even the animals in the nearby forest made a sound.

  We moved in closer, silent as the shadows, and I shifted into my half-Dragon form. Scales erupted in patches over my body, up my throat and down my arms, providing both armor against potential attack and protection against the elements, as I shed my furs and cloak to make it easier to maneuver through the wreckage. My harsh exhalations turned to steam and my eyes became glazed, focused, allowing me to view our surroundings at a level so minuscule I could see each spark from the embers in a nearby fire in acute detail.

  My voice, when I spoke, was a deeper rumble. “Stay on guard,” I ordered. “Whoever set these fires could still be close.”

  I circled around the perimeter as my men ventured farther into the village to investigate. There were fresh tracks leading south from the village on the road toward the capital. Whoever had attacked had left on foot, human foot. If it had been a shifter, they would have used their shifted form to make a faster getaway. Tooth and claw and wing were far more effective than human flesh and bone.

  Adriel had reached the same conclusion. “I’ve never seen humans attack this far north. They’ve grown bold. Too bold.”

  I gnashed my fangs. The people of Braedon were distant members of the Dragon-Clan, those who could not stomach the blustery Northlands winters, but wanted to be near their home—or the one they used to have before it all went to Slaine. They were supposed to be able to rely on me for protection and I’d failed them. Again. Not only were they suffering from the curse intended for me, but it cost them their lives.

  If I had any doubts about following through with the deal I’d made with the Darkmoores, this attack had eradicated them. I’d mate the damn girl, and exact my revenge on those responsible for killing my people when the time was right.

  They’d regret the day they crossed the Dragon-Clan.

  I’d make sure of it.

  3

  Elena

  The journey back to the home I never thought I’d see again was miserable. A wintry wind fought us every step of the way. It didn’t escape my notice that I could consider the perilous journey an omen. The Goddess wouldn’t be the only one displeased by my return.

  If Gideon had any misgivings, he didn’t tell me, preferring to keep to his own carriage when he wasn’t overhead in his shifted form as a proud hawk. The distance between us didn’t help my growing dread. When we were younger, he’d often shift when it was just the two of us and fly overhead for hours while I raced through the nearby woods. His loud birdcall would nip at my heels and I would fill the trees with my shrieks of laughter. He had never made me believe I was less of a person because I couldn’t shift.

  There was no laughter now, no carefree exploring. Gideon had become stoic in my absence, resolute, and it showed. Stoicismd in Acasia, especially in men, and I knew Gideon did what he could in the years since I’ve been gone to fight tooth and claw out of our father’s hotheaded shadow. I glanced through the frosted window of my carriage and found him just above our line of guards. His flight hadn’t wavered since we set off on the last, most brutal leg of our journey.

  A part of me couldn’t help but wonder if he stayed in shifted form on purpose so he wouldn’t have to socialize with me. I wouldn’t blame him, not really. I’d let more than just myself down when it became common knowledge that I was declared unfit for the throne. Now, the only value I could provide was my body, and how it could service the infamously deadly Lord of the Dragon-Clan.

  The thought of facing the castle, the court, and the advisors—who’d deemed me inferior—sent a trail of shivers dancing down my spine, as menacing as a knot of poisonous spiders. I pulled the fur wrap more securely around my shoulders and gave myself a shake. I’d faced far worse circumstances than their disapproving stares, though I couldn’t think of any if pressed. The overwhelming defeat I wore like a chain around my neck only seemed to grow heavier the closer we got to the castle.

  I had no illusions about my reception. No one in Acasia wanted me to darken the court halls again. I was an embarrassment, a warning to children who didn’t do their chores. I’d become a cautionary tale in the time since I left the palace. “This is what happens when you disobey the Goddess’ wishes,” they’d say. Her mother shirked her duties and married a warrior, a brute, so the Goddess burdened her with a shiftless daughter. A male child would have been more acceptable than a girl who couldn’t shift into her gifted form. And most women were looked down upon if they birthed only males. If my birth hadn’t killed her, my failure would have.

  “Are you well, your highness?” Leisha asked quietly from the opposite side of the carriage.

  “I will be,” I replied with what I hoped was a serene smile. “I’m unused to traveling so much, I’m afraid. It makes one miss the temple.”

  “Begging your pardon, my lady, but you’re not excited to see the castle again?”

  I peered back out the frosted window, unable to repress the foreboding shiver that stole down the neck of my dress and danced along my spine. I could see the barest hint of shadow from its dominating presence on the horizon. I was excited to spend time with my brother, that much was true, but the castle? No. I was dreading the moment I stepped foot inside the ancient cobbled halls and faced the reality that had me stealing away in the middle of the night, shame nipping at my heels.

  “I’m ready,” I said to Gideon.

  He shouldered through the door without another word, and then there was no going back. A flurry of movement greeted me, and I wondered if I was the only person who wasn’t aware of the sudden change in plans. Priests were scuttling back and forth with tapestries and ancient, dusty tomes. Gideon dropped my hand to converse with them, and a trio of servants rushed forward at once to pull me into the whirlwind.

  They etched symbols into the wood floor at my feet and wrenched my gown from my body, replacing with a fresh one. No one gave a thought to modesty—not that it mattered. They were so consumed by their tasks that no one noticed as I dressed. Besides, they considered my body a thing these days. An idol. I’d ceased to be simply a girl. I was to become a queen. Gideon and the oldest of the priests huddled together, deep in
conversation. They placed a crown on my head and then a disembodied hand pushed me forward.

  Everyone turned to face me as I stepped into the circle in the center of the room, and it was in that moment my nerves returned in full. Incense choked all breathable air from my surroundings and I sucked it in with great heaves, but it didn’t calm my racing heart. I wondered if they laced the incense with something, a drug, maybe, but I didn’t have time to consider it more before the priests were surrounding me. Perhaps my reaction wasn’t because of the concoction. It was possible the sheer swiftness of activity had caused my head to spin.

  I sought Gideon’s eyes over the bowed heads and flowing robes, but it was too dark for me to see. The candlelight only showed as far as the edge of the circle. Beyond that was nothingness.

  “Your hand, Princess,” said the priest in front of me, who had just spoken with Gideon.

  It trembled, but only slightly, as I placed it in the priest’s grasp. He lifted a dagger and though I knew he wasn’t going to hurt me, a flash of apprehension stole through me at the sight of the wickedly sharp blade. The priestess next to him lifted a weighty chalice and brought it underneath my hand. With one flick of his wrist, the priest sliced open a thin line on the meat of my palm, causing me to gasp. Blood pooled out of the wound and then dripped in a steady stream down my palm and into the chalice.

  The priestess took the chalice as the priests circled around me began to chant. The scent of the incense grew stronger, and with it, so did the sense of trepidation writhing around in my stomach. Sweat beaded up on my forehead and it felt as though I were floating above my body, looking down at the ceremony below. The priestess was mixing herbs and tonics in the chalice, though I didn’t have a clue what they were. Such magick has been passed from mother to daughter down the Druid line for centuries.