Dragon God’s Kiss© 2014 by Ana Lee Kennedy
Book Two of The Valhalla Skies Saga
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, without permission in writing from the publisher.
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Digital ISBN:9781626011908
Print ISBN: 9781626011809
Second Edition March 2015
Previously published as Emerald Fire by Molly Diamond - Breathless Press 2011
Author’s Note:
The first book in this saga, Seduced by the King, is based on the Green Man, which is a part of faerie lore. Although some things in this saga are purely my imagination, the basis is steeped in Norse mythology and my avid fascination and knowledge of faeries.
In the following pages, you will find a short glossary of terms. This is in part to aid the reader with the Fae words I’ve dreamed up and the archaic units of measurement I’ve employed to help create the old-world setting of my novel. The other terms, places, and words are from Norse mythology so that I could write an authentic world.
Also, words such as Fae, Mortal, Gloaming Elf, Southlander, etc., are capitalized because in this Norse world they’re proper nouns, describing a race or a people, just like we’d write American, French or German.
My hope is to write two more novels after this one, incorporating each Daughter of Trinity as the main character, with a possible fourth book for Beron, the triplets’ young brother, but that remains to be seen.
Seduced by the King sets the scene for the Sun, Moon, and Stars Saga. Honey, who later becomes queen of the Green People, is the heroine who starts it all.
Sincerely
Ana Lee Kennedy
For my mother, Brenda, and all those hours we spent watching fantasy and horror rentals on VHS when I was a teenager. Here’s to fond memories of The Barbarians, Legend, Hell Night, and Barberella. Those were good times, Mom.
Terms and Places
Hand - a unit of measurement equal to four inches.
Stone - a unit of weight measurement. One stone equals fourteen pounds. Ember’s warhorse weighs approximately twenty-five hundred pounds.
Suvrete - endearment for a favorite aunt.
Hyrrokkin - fire-smoked. Also, a giantess in Norse mythology.
Muspell - the land where fire, light, and heat exist and only the Fire Giants can tolerate it.
Ginnungagap - a void that lies just outside of Muspell.
Niflheim - a world of incredible cold and darkness where eleven rivers spring and lie frozen in Gunnungagap.
Leaders and their Race
King Roahre - Fae, leader of the Green People of Verdfauna who have the ability to camouflage themselves with the flora and fauna. As they grow older, their magic grows stronger.
His queen - Honey (see book one, Seduced by the King).
His children - Triplet daughters: Ember, Enigma, and Eternity; one son, Beron, the youngest.
Lady Evanesce - Fae, representative for Mist Valley.
Master Jorgus - Mortal, representative for the Mortals of the North.
His son - Kaedric
Sir Sarenkesh Greensleeve - Fae, representative of the Gloaming Elves.
Sir Hestbone - Fae, representative of the Dwarves and captain of war.
King Zeadren - -Mortal, a Southlander king of Galen.
Chapter One
The bedchamber door opened, and a woman’s stern voice said, “I thought princesses were supposed to be virgins.”
The handsome young man who had been kissing Ember started and abruptly let go of her, his gaze landing on someone across the room. He spun, then grabbed his breeches and tunic from the floor. Ember tossed him his sash. Embarrassed, he muttered an apology, then bundled his clothes under one arm as he climbed out the window, naked. His fine, bare ass was the last thing Ember saw before he stepped over to the sloping roof and disappeared into the evening shadows.
Ember turned from the window to find Dikartha standing behind her. “I thought in order to enter a princess’ room one must first knock.”
“Does nothing upset you?” her aunt asked, favoring her with a worried expression. “I would think me seeing your lover as he crawls out the window would have you begging me not to tell your parents—or at the very least have you in tears.”
“Suvrete,” Ember said. “You should know I care not what anyone thinks of me, especially my parents.”
“Aye, I am well aware of how you feel.” Her aunt folded her arms over the heavy embroidery covering her bosoms. “But one can always hope that you will begin to behave like a young Fae woman should.”
Frowning, Ember sauntered over to the rumpled bed. “Crying and begging is proper behavior for a woman?”
“No, dear one”—Dikartha chuckled softly—“but it does show you have feelings.”
A low, wicked giggle slipped from Ember. “Moments before you arrived unannounced, I was feeling many things.”
“You are such a free spirit.” Her aunt walked across the bedchamber. She pulled the glass shutters closed. She focused on something in the courtyard below. “You are a constant source of worry for your father.”
“Father knows I am not a virgin.” Ember flopped backward on the bed, her silken robe falling open to reveal her nakedness. “He caught my last lover sneaking out of the garden.”
“The garden?”
Nodding, Ember grinned at the raftered ceiling. “We were making love in the wildflowers. Afterward, Father was strolling through the garden when he saw him leaving. Father was so furious, but I explained the man he saw wasn’t my first.”
“Ah, so that’s why you were confined to your bedchamber for an entire moon cycle.”
Ember nodded again. She sat up and cupped both of her large, heavy breasts, and then twisted so that her aunt saw them. “Mother says that my suitors are drawn to these.”
“Only those?” Dikartha quirked an eyebrow. “What about your comely face, willowy body, and perhaps the fact Raya marked you as a favorite?”
“Aye, those reasons too.”
“And you lie with whomever you please because…?”
“I like the feeling of a man between my legs.”
Her aunt snorted. “I must say that although your candidness often shocks me”—a soft titter escaped her—“it is also the reason I enjoy your company the most.” She motioned Ember over to the bathtub. “Who is this new handsome Fae man?”
“Fenroh, the swordsmith’s eldest.”
“Let’s hope your father doesn’t find out about this one. Otherwise your punishment may affect whom you spar with during your swordplay lessons.”
“Aye, I hadn’t thought of that.” Ember worried her lower lip. Her father, the king, often employed punishments that left her so bored she thought she would die from it. Losing her swordplay lessons would be a grim punishment, indeed.
“Come, Princess.” Dikartha slid the robe down Ember’s arms. Once it was free of her niece’s body, her aunt then placed it neatly on the foot of the rumpled bed. “The water is cold, but you should bathe before joining everyone for the evening meal. It is still too soon after your coupling to go before your father. He will see the aura of your lover around you, so wash it away, and I will choose a dress for you.”
Uninterested in yet another dinner with diplomats, Ember twisted her flaxen locks around an ornamental hair stick and secured them to the back of her he
ad. She stepped into the tub, which was filled to the brim with cold water, and when she sat in its depths, it took her breath away. She hurriedly washed her feminine areas with rose-scented soap, careful to scrub her entire body too so her father didn’t perceive the essence of lovemaking upon her. As King Roahre grew older, his magic and ability to see things most Fae could not grew stronger.
“I think your beaded crème gown and matching slippers will do well for tonight’s meal,” said Dikartha.
“Oh, suvrete.” Ember sighed heavily then rinsed her body one final time. She stepped out of the tub and looked at her doting aunt. “Why must I endure another seemingly endless meal with diplomats and Mortals?” She tried to keep the disdain from her voice, but her aunt’s disapproving glance told her she’d failed.
“Your mother is born of Man,” said Dikartha tersely, “so you should not speak so scornfully of her heritage.”
“She left the Mortal world for the Fae,” Ember replied. “And she is a descendant of the Green People so she is no longer Mortal.”
“Ah, but through her, the blood of Man is in your veins as well.”
Ember ignored the truth. She patted herself dry with a woolen towel and stepped into the dress Dikartha held open for her. “I tire of the meetings and meals that are no more than one battle story after another and retellings of each race’s history.”
“Tonight is different,” said Dikartha.
“How so?”
Her aunt shook her head. “I do not know exactly, but your mother is very distraught.”
“As queen, Mother is oft distraught.”
“You think you are so wise for your twenty summers, but you have much to learn.”
“Perhaps,” said Ember. “But as long as I am caged behind Father’s walls, my means of learning is limited.”
***
Arm in arm, Ember walked with her aunt through the palace corridors and down into the great hall. There, the long, wide meal table glowed with many pristine white candles, and faerie orbs provided additional lighting. Two roasted boars adorned each end of the spread. Fruits, bottles of moonbeam wine, and the cook’s special dishes of baked eel, nut pudding, beaten potatoes, seasoned breads, and brazed vegetables covered every available spot.
Her sisters, Enigma and Eternity, accompanied by Dikartha’s husband, Shai, her aunt Zoirah, and her sons, Meoth and Shader, all strolled in from the other side of the hall. Her young brother, Beron, brought up the rear. His tan suede leggings and light blue tunic with the runes of Raya stitched upon it cloaked the man he would one day become. He caught Ember watching him and flashed his toothy, mischievous smile. However, Ember vowed that if Beron left one more garden snake in her sheets, he might not reach adulthood.
Both of her twin sisters looked similar to her, but where she was willowy and strong, they were delicate and ethereal. They possessed their mother’s dark eyes, whereas Ember had inherited her father’s piercing green ones. They often preferred gowns of brilliant reds, greens, and blues, Ember loved softer colors. She enjoyed horseback riding, swimming, and defeating her cousins in swordplay. Enigma and Eternity preferred needlepoint, dancing, singing, and education.
Her sisters’ virtues still remained intact, and Ember desired a lover thrusting between her legs.
As much as she adored her sisters, Ember often felt as though she should have been born into a different family…one of less noble birth.
Dikartha nudged her ribs. “Look, your mother wears her gown for holding court.”
Ember studied her mother as King Roahre escorted his wife into the hall. Queen Honey’s cerulean gown shimmered in the candlelight, its rainbow colors muted. Stitched by Dwarf women and the color instilled by the goddess Raya’s magic, Raya had presented it to Honey as a wedding gift to be worn as her queenly gown for holding court. If her mother wore it for their meal, something direly important was afoot.
A tiny tendril of unease wound through Ember’s heart. “I thought this was a meal with diplomats?”
“I told you something urgent would happen tonight,” said Dikartha.
“Please, suvrete.”—Ember squeezed her aunt’s arm—“tell me what tonight’s meal is about.”
“I know not. We shall find out as the evening unfolds.”
Servants pulled chairs out for each of them. Ember sat back as one of the kitchen help placed a small plate of cheese and fruit in front of her. King Roahre opened a bottle of wine, and as was the custom of the Fae, he poured each of his family members a glass before handing the bottle to a servant. As he passed Ember’s seat, he paused, his bright green gaze flitting over her face. She met her father’s eyes, returning his appraisal. Finally he smiled and touched her cheek with the backside of his fingers.
“You are such a mystery and so full of fire,” he said so only she and Dikartha heard. “I now realize you will choose who you take as a mate and not I as it is my right to do. There is still the lingering essence of a man’s love upon you, daughter. Perhaps you should exercise some Fae glamour as well as the use of rose-scented soap.” Dikartha’s sharp intake of breath drew his attention. “Dear sister, you cannot protect her, either. This one is fearless, thus the reason I believe the goddess favors her the most.” He kissed the top of Ember’s head and returned to his seat next to the queen.
“Hail the guests,” cried the palace greeter. “Sir Greensleeve of the Gloaming Elves.”
Ember looked toward the staircase leading down into the banquet hall. The Gloaming Elf stood waiting for the king and queen to acknowledge him before stepping off the last step. He wore the usual greens and silver representing his dark, dreamy homeland, but something about him riveted Ember to the chair. She couldn’t force her gaze away from his long, flaxen hair. Tall, willowy, and fair-skinned, the elf exuded raw sexuality.
“Mayhap the princess has spied a new lover?” Dikartha whispered.
Startled, Ember blinked and looked over at her aunt. “’Tis probably Sir Greensleeve’s magic. I know enough about Gloaming Elves to know that they cast love and coupling spells to have their way with comely partners.”
The palace greeter announced the remaining guests, and they filed down the staircase. “Sir Hestbone of the Dwarves and Lady Evanesce of Mist Valley.”
Ember kept stealing glances at Sir Greensleeve. As he approached, she realized he was not only handsome but beautiful. Beautiful faeries, whether male or female, always spelled trouble. They often possessed conceited personalities and the desire to bewitch all who looked their way. Better to dismiss this impressive elf and focus on her current lover.
“Masters Jorgus and Kaedric of the Mortals,” the greeter finished.
A soft gasp punctuated the greeter’s last words, drawing Ember’s attention as well as everyone else already seated at the table. “Husband,” said Queen Honey, “who invited Jorgus and Kaedric?”
“The matters of war have invaded your home village as well, my love,” said the king. “They represent the Mortals of the North. Sir Hestbone will answer your question regarding this matter.”
The guests strode into the feasting hall. Burly and thick bearded, Sir Hestbone allowed a servant to lead him to the end of the table where the king and queen sat. Ember guessed him to be a bit over twelve hands in stature, which was tall for a Dwarf and very impressive for the captain of war. Dark-polished leather armor clad his wide shoulders, back, and chest. His black leather boots snapped together at the heels as he removed his copper helmet and bowed in respect. Masses of thick yellow braids tumbled free, some reaching as far as his wide hemp belt strung with large turquoise beads.
“Sir Hestbone,” said King Roahre. “Thank you for coming. The city of Verdfauna welcomes you.”
“King Roahre.” Hestbone straightened. “It has been years since we’ve had an occasion to commune, but I wish the circumstances were different.”
“He’s quite big for a Dwarf,” Ember whispered to her aunt.
Nodding, Dikartha stared at the captain of war in awe.
“Lady Evenesce,” King Roahre greeted her.
The lady smiled, inclining her head toward him and sat down directly across from Ember.
Curious, Ember tried to appraise the beautiful Fae woman without being too obvious. Upon closer, surreptitious inspection, she realized hundreds of tiny dewdrops littered her hair, and a thin, unadorned band of silver encircled her head. She looked up and met Ember’s gaze with eyes as blue as Goddess Ran’s spectacular lightning displays.
Flustered, Ember glanced away.
“A Daughter of Trinity, aye?” the woman said, her voice the whisper of wind through trees.
Ember could only nod.
“You must be Ember,” Lady Evanesce continued. “You are the spirited one and full of fire.”
Ember finally managed to make her voice work. “How do you know that?”
“I see a person’s soul through their eyes.”
One who could read what lie in her soul might feel inclined to speak to her father about it. Averting her gaze, Sir Greensleeve once again captured Ember’s attention.
The Gloaming Elves’ representative sat on the other side of Ember. A strong aroma of lavender assailed her senses, stirred her desire for long nights in a soft bed, their limbs entwined. Realizing he was probably casting magic upon her, Ember glanced abruptly at him.
“Princess Ember?” he asked.
The musical quality of his voice washed over her in waves of sensuality. Gloaming Elves chose seclusion, their land in a deep valley where the sun seldom penetrated, but unlike the constant twilight of their realm, Ember couldn’t shake the knowledge that Gloaming Elves were also known for their ability to seduce and captivate. Sir Greensleeve’s dark, penetrating gaze wandered over her face and dipped to the swell of her bosom. Lust raced through her.
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