by K.N. Lee
As he spoke to the butterfly, he almost thought he heard a whisper come from the tiny creature.
The butterfly lifted itself from the bars and danced before his eyes. In the darkness, with only the moonlight to cast its faint glow, it seemed to nod.
It then flew high above his head, and out the small window at the top of the cell.
He sighed then, settling down on the floor of the cell, with Sarsa watching him with his glowing eyes.
“What now?” Magnus said from his cell at Aros’ left.
Aros rubbed his hands together, the cold in the air making him shiver.
“Now,” he said, blowing into his cupped hands. “We wait.”
Eostre stood at the window of her prison. Though unlike the cells of the dungeon, it was as much a prison as any. She had a soft bed and enough food to keep her belly full, but, her heart broke for what treatment she knew her boys were suffering. They had been kind to her when she was in need, and she’d been more than happy to aid them on their most righteous quest.
She watched as a butterfly flew across the sky from below. It lingered near her window, its yellow wings twinkling in the night, and for a moment, she was certain it called to her.
21
Red.
The sky was red as they came closer to the Dragon’s Pass, yet Kylan didn’t slow his speed as he carried Amalia across the sky.
Amalia’s heart still raced as they escaped the first danger of this land. The golems tossed lava high into the air and across the black land until they were too far away to see their prey. Now, they were even closer to the gates that stood at the end of the valley.
She tried to calm her breathing, and prepare herself for what lay ahead, but anxiety surged through her veins and within her throat, making it almost impossible to catch a breath.
This was finally what they’d come for. They’d won the battle of gathering their people, and now would reap the benefit.
To fly was a dream, and under different circumstances, Amalia would have beamed with joy, and relished in the absolute fun of riding astride a dragon.
But, not today.
Today, they faced dangers unlike anything they could have dreamed. The Brotherhood was defeated, crippled by the loss of their leader—their God.
If Einar returned, they would be ready for him.
“Behold, the Dragon’s Pass,” Jora said, outstretching her staff to the statues of stone dragons that lined the valley.
She sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut as Kylan dodged a ball of fire. Her heart thumped in her chest, her face hot and covered with sweat, blood, and the tears of those they’d lost.
The fire ball sizzled and soared, blazing with orange and red, heating the air around them. Charred black earth and molten lava encircled it, and the volcanic mountains in the distance only catapulted more of the vicious weapons.
This was what they had been destined to reclaim.
This was the Erani Empire.
And, Drako the Defiler was all that stood between them and reclaiming it. He was massive, with large, golden eyes that looked directly at her. His wings were the color of blood, and had holes throughout that reminded her of a tattered rag hung to dry. Then, there were his minions, small imps that surrounded him like an army of nightmarish creatures.
She stood tall, ready to fight—ready to lead—when the red sky went dark and the air went cold, and Drako’s voice filled her head.
Everyone went still, as the air grew thick and hot.
“Welcome home,” he said, and a low chuckle rumbled through the valley as Amalia was ripped away from Kylan’s side, and trapped within Drako’s talons.
She fought, her scream caught in her lungs as the wound she’d suffered at the hands of the golems throbbed. Eyes growing heavy, all Amalia saw was smoke and wings, and darkness.
Drako flew away with her, and a hot, feverish sleep overcame her.
There would be no returning home.
Not without the heir.
Not without the dragon master.
22
Awakening from death was a funny thing. A gasp for air usually occurred first. That was followed by a stinging of the bones and skin—the burning of one’s organs as they sparked back to life.
He'd done it more times than he could count, and each time was different. This time, he would return as a younger man.
Someone formidable—someone his enemies would quiver before with fear.
Einar opened his eyes, and beheld the darkness of the spirit world. The air was little more than smoke and fog, with glittering sparks of dead magic floating around like butterflies.
Within days, he would be ready.
Light awaited at the top of the cavernous space of black and quiet. It glowed at him, beckoning his return to the world of the living. Much of this world was of his creation, and it would never forsake him, even if his annoying brother and sister wished to see him fall.
They each came to this world at its inception, from the land of the gods. Aden.
Each had a task, and a goal, and he wasn’t sure when their paths differed.
No matter.
He’d send them away soon enough. He’d make the world new again, and start fresh if he had to.
Spirits kept their distance, watching as he materialized a new body.
The Brotherhood wasn't destroyed. No, such a thing wasn't remotely possible. This was merely a step back, and he would use it to his advantage.
A smirk came to his lips, and he licked them, noting the fullness. He glanced down, and watched flesh wrap around his bones and muscles as he hovered in the mist, above the effervescent, green Sea of Souls.
Amalia had surprised him.
His greatness creation had actually managed to kill him. There was no surprise in that. He made her powerful, beautiful, and she'd earned the skill and confidence to fight because of him.
All would fall into place.
He just needed to be patient...and at nearly six thousand years old…days, weeks, months, and years were little more than a minor nuisance.
This time—time was his best friend.
* * *
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this installment of the Empire of Dragons, please consider leaving a review. Book four, Realms and Ruin will be released this December.
Waking the Dark is available now!
Magic. Betrayal. Vengeance.
* * *
We lost the war...
* * *
...but not our souls.
* * *
After nearly a century at war with the blood elves, the humans have lost and now serve their enemy. As my age to serve approaches, I battle not the elves who stole everything from us...but my own people and an ancient magic that brews inside of me.
An Exclusive Excerpt from Throne of Deceit
The sound of hooves thundering down the main road rang in Elise’s ears.
She jumped up from her spot on the ground. A summer breeze wafted through, sweeping ebony hair around her face as she peered downward.
Sure enough, it was an armored messenger, astride a horse, with a red banner in his hand.
Elise raced through the garden to the road at the outskirts of the grounds of Devynshire Castle.
Bright sunlight cascaded through the trees, highlighting every ebony wave as she bounded down the grassy, poppy-littered hill.
“Elise,” Lady Devyn, shouted after her, shielding her eyes from her spot on the blanket sprawled across the grass. “Where are you going?”
“The messenger!” Elise shouted to her mother. “He’s here.”
As she glanced over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s smirk as she waved her on.
At eighteen, this would be her last year of seclusion from the world.
Today, she just wanted to be a young lady, fuss over what elaborate gown she would wear, and try her charms on handsome suitors from all over the realm.
Despite the fact that several eligible yo
ung men would be in attendance, her sights were set on only one—one very special prince.
Practically giddy, she grinned to herself. To think, she might have her choice of husband in just a few short days.
A giggle escaped her lips as she skidded to a stop, right before the messenger who leaped from his horse and gave her a bow with his head.
“Good day, Harry,” Elise said with a slight curtsy.
Harry cleared his throat. “Good day to you, my lady.”
“Do you have something for me?” Elise’s eyes peered at his brown satchel, hoping to catch a letter or parcel with the crest of the kingdom of Arundell on it.
“Hmmm,” Harry said, rummaging through his bag. “I don’t believe I saw anything for you today.”
Shoulders slumping, Elise sucked her teeth. “Nonsense. You wouldn’t be here without a message,” she said, leaving the plush grass to stand on the hard-packed dirt road that led through the forest and to town.
“Aye, I have a message for your mother,” he said.
“It can’t be!” Forgetting decorum, she stood right before Harry and dug her hands into the bag.
Instead of scolding her, he chuckled. “All right! All right,” he said and pulled out a cream-colored envelope with the Arundell seal of a golden lion.
“You scoundrel!”
Elise took the envelope, a smile spreading from ear-to-ear. He handed her another letter, and with a giggle, she ran back toward the castle.
“You’re welcome,” Harry shouted after her with a laugh.
Looking over her shoulder, Elise shouted back. “Thank you!” She gathered her skirts in her hand and quickened her speed.
Smiling, her mother sat on her knees and ushered her back to their picnic.
“What is it, dear?”
Elise grinned, plopping back down onto their blanket and handing her mother the letters—one from Arundell, and another from the palace in Perth.
She picked up Princess Polly, her pet pig, and held her in her arms as she watched her mother open the letters.
Her grandmother Inora emerged from the castle to join their picnic.
“Morning, Grandmama,” Elise said, and she nodded to her.
“Good morning,” Inora replied. “What is all of the fuss about? Another cut in the household budget?”
Inora stood, towering over them, her hands clasped before her gray gown.
Her auburn hair was worn in a bun with a black veil secured to it.
“Just the best news ever,” Elise said as her mother held the seal up for Inora to see.
“Prince Tolwin will be in attendance,” she said, and gave Elise a wink.
Inora eyed the letter and nodded, though her mouth remained in a single line. “Is this what you truly want? A match with Prince Tolwin?”
“What kind of question is that?” Elise asked. “Of course, I do. He’d be a perfect match. Not only is he the crown prince of an empire, but he is closer to my age than most of the suitors I would consider.”
“She is the king’s only daughter,” Mother said, lowering the letter. “It could unite the kingdoms.”
Inora snorted, and lowered herself to sit with them. “That would be true if King Caden were a rational man, Seyena. Alas, he is not, and chances are that he will keep Elise imprisoned in this place until her death.”
Shoulders slumping, Elise and her mother shared a look of worry. She’d only ever heard stories of her father. How when he came to see her as a baby, he didn’t hug, kiss, or hold her. It was said that he looked at Elise as if she were a monster. Perhaps that was why he kept her prisoner in her home.
“Let’s pray that isn’t true,” Seyena said.
“Didn’t Prince Tolwin just run off to fight in the Tidelands?” Inora asked.
“What does that matter? It is the duty of a prince to act in service for his kingdom,” Elise pointed out as she kissed Princess Polly’s snout. She fed the pig a strawberry, and then popped one into her own mouth.
“It is also the duty of a prince to marry whomever his father chooses. Do you think the king would choose a bastard for his son?”
That stung. All traces of a smile faded from Elise’s face. She stood and frowned down at her grandmother.
“Thank you,” she said, taking the letter, as tears stung the backs of her eyes. “For reminding me what I am; a bastard—someone not worth loving.”
She turned to head toward the forest where her favorite place of solitude awaited. The Crystal River ran through the Hempstead countryside and all the way to Perth. It was the only place she felt safe, or at home, despite the stone walls that made up the castle she had been forced to live in since she was born.
“Elise,” Inora called after her. “That is not what I am reminding you of, dear. It couldn’t be further from the truth. You are loved, and you are more than a bastard. More than anything you have ever dreamed. When you see that, you will know the truth of your fate.”
Ignoring her, Elise trudged away from the castle and to the grove where the falls frothed and pooled and glistened beneath what trails of sunlight shone through the ancient trees.
Didn’t Inora understand that marriage was the only way she’d be free to truly live? She had to know that Elise craved a life of her own.
Her father would never let her leave Devynshire Castle, unless it was by being bound to a man of great standing—one he could use as an ally. Of course, that wasn’t all she wanted out of life. But, Tolwin was the best option. He hadn’t been promised to any of the other eligible princesses in the realm, or anyone of great standing.
She was the natural choice.
Dark stones lined the river, and piled onto one another just before the white falls. She sat on the cool rocks with a sigh and kissed Princess Polly on the top of her fuzzy spotted, pink head. She brushed her hair back over her shoulder, and opened the letter.
Just the fact that the prince had agreed to come to her coming-out ball was a sign that things might be changing.
Princess Polly snorted and Elise smiled down at her despite the tears on her cheeks.
She brought the letter to her nose and sniffed the parchment, hoping for a brief whiff of his scent. There wasn’t any. His father had probably signed the letter.
Once she’d read it through, she placed it onto the water and watched it float down the river.
She rested her cheek on her bare knees and followed it as it curved and vanished around the bend.
The sound of the forest sang to her, and as she hugged Princess Polly close to her chest, she prayed for an escape from her life in exile.
* * *
Lilae floated bare-skinned beneath the bright crescent moon, her arms outstretched on the lake’s calm surface. Winter never seemed to end in northern Eura, but she braved the frigid water for the solitude offered by an evening swim.
Alone, she thought, just how I like it.
Just as she began to relax, Lilae felt the presence of her Elder in the black shadows of the forest.
This is not good. She peeked over and saw Delia in the human form she’d stolen when she was forced to leave the Underworld, her pale face illuminated from beneath the hood of her wool cloak. She held her wooden staff in one hand and Lilae’s discarded cloak in the other.
“Lilae!”
Lilae swallowed and then flipped over to swim back toward the shore, closing the gap between them. She quickly got out of the water and dressed, taking the heavy cloak from Delia’s grasp and flinging it over her shoulders to ward off the chill in the air.
“What is it? What’s happened?” Her breath escaped her lips like a puff of smoke in the darkness.
Delia looked over Lilae with dull blue eyes. “I don’t like how close they are getting. We need to leave before dawn.”
Lilae tucked her boyish pants into her boots. Only a few years ago, she would have refused; she would have run away to stay with another family in their village. Now, at almost eighteen, Lilae resigned herself to their nomadic lifestyle.
>
That’s because she had finally learned why they moved so much: Lilae was being hunted.
Lilae followed Delia through the forest to their little cottage on the edge of town. It was a small structure, built into the side of a hill. Though it was once a cave, Pirin had made it into a real home. A squat chimney protruded from beneath the soil, a trail of smoke wafting from its mouth into the gray sky.
Ducking, Lilae stepped inside. Pirin, Lhana, and the twins, Risa and Jaiza, were already awake. Her surrogate family. They glanced at her and, without a word, returned to their preparations. They all moved slowly as the cold air in the room bit at them.
Pirin put his arm around Lhana. She stopped packing and buried her tears in his shoulder, sighing. “Just tell me why? Every time we finally get comfortable and make friends, you make us leave.”
He smoothed her blonde hair and kissed her cheek. “And every time you ask me this same question. The answer will not change. They are coming. We don’t have time to waste.”
“Let us stay behind. It’s not the girls and me that he wants.”
Pirin grabbed Lhana by the elbow. The room fell silent, and Lilae tensed, her eyes darting from Lhana’s stunned face to Pirin’s stern expression.
Pirin lowered his voice, but Lilae heard every word. “We stay together. She is my responsibility.”
Lhana swallowed and arched a brow, her jaw clenched. Her eyes may have glared in defiance, but her voice wavered. “I thought she was the Elder’s responsibility. You trained her. Your duty is done.”
Pirin pulled Lhana closer. “I will not hear another word about it.” The discussion was over. Pirin’s word was law. Everyone went back to packing.
Lilae glanced at Lhana and wondered if the Ancients knew how much Lhana hated her. Lhana met Lilae’s eyes, her blond brows furrowing. It was a look that hurt Lilae more than anything; there was almost nothing she wanted more than to finally feel that woman’s love.
