Dragon Soul (Daughter of Shadow Book 1)

by LJ Swallow

  DRAGON SOUL

  DAUGHTER OF SHADOW

  L J Swallow

  Copyright © 2018 by L J Swallow

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  v.11.20

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  Contents

  Dragon Soul

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Other Books By LJ Swallow

  Books by Lisa Swallow

  About the Author

  DRAGON SOUL

  A girl with dark magic who’s a threat to the kingdom. Three powerful men from the royal court. Why are they prepared to protect this daughter of shadow and take her to the heart of their realm?

  The dragons are dead, the Ebon queen has destroyed the elven realms and kingdoms are at war. The queen’s dark magic is growing in strength, and the Silvercrest kingdom is losing the battle against her. Three men are sent from the army’s stronghold to seek others who can aid their cause.

  Leander, a high-ranking and domineering nobleman. Rohan, a fierce and seductive warrior. Galen, a gentle and passionate elven leader. Their task: recruit the most potent magic users from the shire towns and train them to join the Silvercrest’s crusade.

  They never expected to find a daughter of shadow.

  Calla’s time working at the apothecary in her small town is about to end, but not in the way she expected. On the day her magic skills are tested, she is revealed as a shadowmancer, a school of magic banned throughout the kingdom. Calla faces a death sentence, but the three men are intrigued by the beautiful girl and her mysterious dragonkin pet and smuggle her from the town.

  With no other choice, Calla journeys to the stronghold with the three captivating men. As they fight their way through enemy territory, the men discover that Calla’s power is more dangerous than they realised—and so is the bond this creates between them all.

  Dragon Soul is a slow burn reverse harem fantasy. Action-packed, sword and sorcery book with a strong heroine, a pet dragon, and irresistible guys.

  1

  CALLA

  I can’t fail again. I hold the glass vial in front of my eyes as I watch the red liquid swirl into the blue, melding as if winding together in a dance. Bracing myself for the result, I glance over at the spilled potions soaking the wooden bench by the distillery. Third time lucky? Well, fourth. I always add the correct mix of potions and herbs for the healing tincture, but every attempt ends in sticky disaster. I don't have much time before I need to return to work at the front of the apothecary shop, and I need to practice for the tests tomorrow.

  As the liquid becomes purple, the glass explodes with a loud bang that reverberates in my ears and leaves just the neck of the vial between my fingers. Luin squawks, and the azure dragonkin flies from my shoulders into the air, avoiding the pungent red cloud rising from my latest potion-making attempt.

  "Shit."

  This time, the noise is sure to bring Mrs. Grunwald in from the shopfront, who'll discover I'm wasting expensive stock.

  Luin flaps his small blue wings and continues to hover above the mess. If a dragon the size of a kitten—with the attitude to match—could look at you disdainfully, he'd look like Luin does now. He flicks his long skinny tail before perching on a high shelf. His favourite location to sit is my shoulder, but that's currently covered in my failed attempt to make the potion. More than failed—the mixture is creating a small hole on my blue tunic shirt.

  "Shit!" I repeat. The dragon blinks at me with his yellow, reptilian eyes and makes a low sound I swear is the dragonkin equivalent of a chuckle. "This isn't funny, Luin. The tests are tomorrow. I need to prove I have the ability to create something useful, or I'll be stuck in this town for life. I don't want to spend my life as Mrs. Grunwald's assistant until I’m forced to marry a thick-headed farmer."

  Westdale may be safe from the kingdom wars between the Ebon queen and our king, but in this place, I fight my own battles every day and I want to leave. As a sorcerer's daughter, my role in life is to train in and use at least one school of magic that's beneficial to the realm and town. If I'm proficient enough, or show promise, I could gain a place at the Royal Apothecary and serve the King.

  Tomorrow brings the day this year’s stronghold recruiters watch and choose, as those who've reached twenty-one years old since last midsummer are tested.

  I wipe my sticky hands on my apron and immediately wish I hadn't when the cotton disintegrates. I've always struggled with potion magic. I also could never get the hang of teleportation: my subjects would end up several miles from where they needed to be. And don't even get me started on what happens when I attempt to harness elemental magic. Lighting a fire using the elements is one skill, accidentally calling down a thunderstorm and razing the entire council building with a lightning strike? Less useful. Worse, I was accused of deliberately destroying the chambers, and rumours spread that I'm hiding how powerful I am.

  If only that were true. I genuinely suck at magic. I'm lucky they allow me to attempt the tests at all.

  Somebody tugs my long blonde plait and I scowl as I grab a male hand and turn. Thomas looks down at me, dark brown eyes in his pudgy face glistening with amusement.

  "Hey, Stripe, what mess have you made now? I think it's time to admit defeat. You won't succeed in the tests.” I hush him and look behind to the open door to the shop.

  Thomas's height makes him tall for a human, and his scrawny teen frame bulked out in the last year. I've known the guy since I was a kid, and he's represents the reasons I work so hard to succeed and escape the town. Thomas is from an ordinary human family; his father's the mayor, and so he can't fail. He’ll hold a powerful position in the future; Thomas had a tutor since he was old enough to open a book. Now, school is long gone and time for books and friendly rivalry gone too.

  I stare at how Thomas's thick neck links his head to his broad shoulders, blending into one. His large hand releases my hair as I slap his fingers. Stripe? Kids dropped my childhood nickname by the time we reached teen years, but this douche can't let go of the hilarity that I have a stripe in my hair. Yes, it's that freaking hilarious a blonde-haired girl has a violet streak running from her scalp to the tips of her hair at the back of her head.

  As soon as I went to the small town school, the kids teased me to tears. But they discovered that as well as a violet streak, I also have a pet dragonkin with a violent streak. Luin's sharp-clawed attacks on other kids led to lacerations for them and trouble for me. In the end, I hid my tears because the adults threatened to take Luin away. He's been my best friend since I was a small child, which doesn't help with the people's suspicions of me, despite th
e fact my father assures the council my pet is a dragonkin and not a dragon.

  Dragons are feared, but dragonkin are a different race. They’re loosely related in the way small fluffy dogs are to rabid wolves. The dragons betrayed the kingdom by joining with the Ebon elves in killing thousands of humans before turning on each other. There are rumours that dragons survived, but nobody has seen any for years. So, distrust for my dragonkin remains. Especially since some believe dragons hide ready to attack the realm again.

  The worst Luin could do is scratch your face. Pretty bad, but nothing compared to being ripped apart by a dragon.

  "What do you want, Thomas?" I pull my sourest face.

  "I need to buy a potion to help with last minute study for the tests and Mrs. Grunwald asked me to bring her some vials from the storeroom. Have you smashed them all?" He nods at the glass and congealed rainbow of colours on the apothecary bench in front of me. "Looks like your last-minute study isn't going so well."

  "This wasn't me. Luin knocked some bottles over as I was fetching ingredients for Mrs. Grunwald."

  Thomas's disbelieving snort is joined by Luin's unimpressed squawk at my lie. I can't speak dragonkin, any more than Mrs. Grunwald can talk cat, but we both know how to communicate with our pets. The blue dragonkin rarely leaves my sight—and we argue a lot. Well, I argue and Luin replies in squawks and filthy looks. Yes, I swear I can read his thoughts via expressions too. My best friend, Lori, told me I'm unhinged if I believe that.

  "I guess you'd better clean them up." Thomas crosses his thick muscled arms across his expensive shirt, and I catch a strong scent of mint waft over, but it barely disguises his stale sweaty smell.

  "I guess I had." I turn away and begin sweeping the broken glass into an empty wooden bucket, acutely aware of his eyes boring into my back. As I bend down to pick some large glass shards from the floor, his hand closes over my backside and squeezes.

  I jump away and spin around, brandishing the glass shard in his direction. "Get your hands off me!"

  "I was trying to help and my hand slipped." His tongue slides between his lips, slow and disgusting like a slug.

  "Touch me again and you'll regret it," I snarl.

  "What? Would you use some of your magic on me?" He makes an exaggerated terrified face. "You're scary."

  And you're the most immature, slimy... Plenty of less pleasant adjectives spring to mind, but I clamp my mouth shut.

  "Or are you going to set your baby dragon on me?" He chuckles. "Please do. I'll have him killed—I’m waiting for the chance."

  "Calla! Come here and serve the customers. I need to collect some herbs from Mistress Viola, before she sells them to the tavern." Mrs. Grunwald's voice carries from the front of the store, and I hasten to tidy up my mess, before she heads in here to look for me and discovers the disaster. Thomas watches but doesn't help. Of course.

  I stalk past him to the shop. The dim, small space is crammed with potions and tinctures, piled high on shelves, which take up every inch of wall space. There's a small wooden counter opposite the shop door, and room for serving less than three people at a time. Two wait in the shop and more queue outside. I bet a few are here for potions to enhance their chance of success tomorrow.

  Grunwald's Apothecary is the most trusted and longest established in the town, and despite my poor magic record, my father managed to procure me a part-time position in the hope I could learn more about the potions craft. I have—I've memorised every ingredient, the same way I've studied every book on other forms of magic. My knowledge is infinite, my skill non-existent.

  I've now resigned myself to the fact my career will continue here. Permanently. The tests are my last hope.

  Mrs. Grunwald stands behind the counter, wrapping small bottles in paper as she serves a young woman with a baby bundled on her back. The lines on Mrs. Grunwald's face are deeper than usual, her hair escaping the tight grey bun on her head as the queue grows. The strange smell from my spilled concoctions follows me from the storeroom and into the shop. I close the door hastily before Mrs. Grunwald notices.

  "I'm sorry to leave while we're so busy," she says as she hands over the package to the woman. "Viola is short on arrowroot, and we need as much of the ingredient as we can get. The shop is running out of the 'success potions.’"

  "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

  She squeezes my arm. "Thank you, love."

  Thomas appears with a handful of vials and sets them on the counter. "Thank you, Master Fletcher. And here is your order." With a grateful smile, she hands him a package, and he drops gold coins on the bench.

  I watch as Mrs. Grunwald leaves, closely followed by Thomas who doesn't speak to me again, and immediately turn my attention to the next customer. I spend a hectic half hour fulfilling orders and handing over pre-packaged requests.

  My encyclopaedic knowledge allows me to locate and serve items to customers quickly, something I think has helped me keep this job. Gradually the rush tails off, and I have time to exchange more than pleasantries with customers.

  Little Simon arrives for his mother's tincture, one used daily to combat the skin condition spreading cross her limbs and preventing her working. I always take time to chat to the eight-year-old, who spends more time caring for his mother than playing. I slip him some of the candy I buy from the confectionary shop two streets away. I lie to Simon they're from my personal stash, when really I only buy them for him.

  As he heads away, I look up to greet the next customers and straight into a pair of the bluest eyes I've seen. An elf.

  Elves are rare in our town, and the only time I see any is when the tests happen.

  As with most elves, this one is taller than the human man beside him. His hair appears white, but if he moves his head, the hair looks as if it's threaded with silver. Pulled back into a ponytail, the subtle point to his ears confirms his race. He smiles, warm and friendly and in a way that flips my stomach.

  As a teenager, I became obsessed with elves after one flirted with me at the fair on test day. He never returned the next year, but the encounter was enough to solidify my attraction to the race. Elves fascinate me, not only because they look different to the humans who live here, but because they exude a strange aura that makes them instantly accepted and soothes away suspicion.

  Or most people’s suspicion—not all. Elves once lived in a kingdom at peace with ours, but since the Ebon elves joined the dragons and queen in overthrowing the king, they're less trusted than they once were.

  This male elf eclipses the one I met five years ago. The perfection to his features and luminescent skin fascinate me as much as the strange coloured eyes. I flick a gaze to where his plain white tunic is partially unbuttoned revealing a lean, muscled chest and a large silver sun pendant hung around his neck.

  My wondrous gazing is interrupted by the rough words from the man beside him. "Galen, can we buy what we need and go? I want to check out the inside of the local tavern, not do your bloody shopping."

  "Rohan, you can swill your beer in an hour. I have errands to attend to." Galen's voice is softer than his gruff friend's, with a hint of the mesmerising elvish accent.

  Rohan crosses his arms, revealing an ornate cross on his left wrist spreading into his sleeve. The whole kingdom knows this symbol: Order of Lux, a battalion sworn to use their joint strength and mysterious gifts in battle to serve the king's campaigns against the Ebon queen. They are a secretive society, bound by a history as old as the elves, and only those who pass stringent training are admitted.

  His shaggy blonde hair touches his ears, and brushes his heavy brow. Deep brown eyes study me before he tips a flirtatious smile in my direction. He's thicker set than his companion; the biceps beneath his tunic strain against the cloth. I've only seen pictures of lightbringers in their full armour, the gold glinting in the sun and faces obscured by helms. Rohan has no armour, only a metal girdle with his sword sheathed and the Order emblem carved into the hilt.

  "I'm Rohan." The guy extends a
hand, and I wince as his grip crushes my fingers. His lightbringer-crested ring glints to match his eyes. He lifts my hand and touches my skin briefly with his lips. "Enchanted."

  Galen groans.

  "Calla," I reply unable to stop flitting my gaze between the two.

  Luin flaps from the top shelf in the corner of the room, where he'd hidden himself, and lands on my shoulder. He makes his strange chirruping sounds and pushes his head against the side of mine.

  Galen tips his chin, his brow creasing momentarily. "Is she yours?"

  "He. Yes. Luin."

  Galen’s mouth purses in amusement. "He's very pretty."

  Luin chirps and extends his wings, pulling himself to his full height, which at half a metre isn't impressive. I reach out and touch his warm head, petting him the way I would Mrs. Grunwald's cat.

  "Is he your familiar?" asks Rohan in gruff voice. "I didn't think sorcerers were allowed familiars unless qualified, and definitely not dragons."

  "No. I’m not a sorcerer, and he's my pet." I lower my voice. "Though I think Luin believes he owns me."

  Galen reaches out to touch Luin who flaps up to the highest shelf before he can. "Well, that's dragons for you."

  "Dragonkin," I correct. "No full-blood dragon would be allowed in the kingdom even if they did exist, you know that. He's never grown beyond this size. No way is Luin a dragon." Why am I justifying my choice of pet to these men? I clear my throat and attempt to be professional. "What would you like today, sirs?"