Fate of the Dragons
Page 1
Table of Contents
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
Fate of the Dragons
Dragon-Born Book 5
K.N. Lee
Copyright © 2018 by K.N. Lee
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.
Created with Vellum
For my Family
Contents
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
An Exclusive Look at Court of Shadows
Court of Shadows
Court of Shadows
An Look at Fallen Empire
About the Author
Also by K.N. Lee
Chapter 1
Waking became a cruel game. One question continued to prevail above all others whenever Rowen awakened. Darkness filled every crevice of her mind like black ink, and when her eyes opened, it was there to welcome her into its grim embrace.
Was it a nightmare or real?
One could never be sure, for the sun never rose and the moon never fell outside her window. It was a blank canvas of inky gloom.
Hours turned into days, and she feared she’d never be free of this devious scheme. Perchance her prophecy had come true.
Perhaps this was what death felt like. Rowen wanted her mother to wrap her arms around her and assure her that all would be fine, that when she awakened, Rickard would be there with a smile on his face and good news about the war.
Mother was gone. She’d returned to her life with Ioan. The truth was that she may never come back. The life of a shifter was one that she never asked or wished for. That meant Rowen was all alone in this test of wills.
This battle for survival.
Rowen’s heart thumped in her chest as she sat up in her bed and clutched the neck of her nightgown. The air was still, but stale, and tasted of smoke.
This was her private sleeping quarters. But, her ladies-in-waiting were nowhere to be seen. If it were morning, they’d be lined up and ready to awaken her for the changing of her night gown and breakfast.
Hunger did gnaw at her belly, and her mouth was as dry as parchment, a sharp pain trailing down her throat.
She was gone—the sorceress who had stolen her prophecies. What would she do with them?
Leaping from the bed, Rowen darted across the room and grabbed the door handle. It was piping hot, but it was the soft cackle that made her pause mid-step, the blood draining from her face. Her eyes stung with tears, and her throat tightened.
“No,” she whispered, breathless. Each beat of her heart grew louder in her ears.
“Did you truly think I would let you awaken, your royal highness? You know I cannot do that. Not when so much is at stake. Truthfully, you should be assisting me, willfully. You are half human, after all.”
Rowen shot a glare over her shoulder.
“And, you’re a monster.”
Priscilla’s wicked grin widened across her oddly beautiful face. She smoked from a long pipe, drawing in a deep breath and then releasing it. Then, she set the pipe onto the table beside her chair, and stared at Rowen with dark eyes that seemed to hold the very essence of evil.
She removed her porcelain mask, revealing a ghastly scar that covered her eye and ended at a gaping hole in her cheek that had healed over into a solid crater.
She stood and sauntered over to Rowen, her long hair cascading down in a rainbow of glowing colors that lit up the dim room.
“That may be. I’ve been called worse. Witch, by the villagers I grew up with. Demon, by the monks and nuns in Elendell. What’s another name? You do know what they call you?”
Her eye twitched.
“Social climber. Whore. Imposter. Traitor,” Priscilla said, taking a step with each insult. “Murderer.”
Her mind raced for a solution. She had to stop Priscilla before she used the knowledge she’d obtained. Rickard had to be warned. But, how would she get a message to him if she couldn’t even escape her mind?
Swallowing, she tried to stall, but Priscilla continued to close the gap between them.
“Leave me alone.”
“But, I’m not quite done with you, yet,” she said.
Tensing, Rowen met her eyes as she stood right before her, and gently brushed back her golden hair.
“What do you want?”
Priscilla studied her face. Her lips were plump and puckered as if she was going to lean in for a kiss. She smelled like fresh honey, sweet and intoxicating.
She was trying to tempt Rowen.
A smirk tugged the corner of her mouth upward. “I want it all, Rowen. Every little secret. Every truth.”
“I don’t understand,” she said, shaking her head, brows furrowed. “The truth about what?”
“The truth of the Red and White Dragon.”
Coiling back, Rowen tried for the door again.
Priscilla dropped her hands to her sides and sighed as Rowen snatched the door open. “Oh, Rowen. When will you learn?”
A bone-chilling scream ripped from her throat as she realized that she was not in the palace and that outside of the door was a cliff—one she fell from at a break-neck speed.
This is not real, she told herself as she died for what felt like the hundredth time.
Chapter 2
The carriage steadily weaved through the lush evergreen forest, and though Luca’Rosi was at her side, the presence of King Tilton sitting across from her made her incredibly uncomfortable. It wasn’t the carriage, it was the fact that he was so close, close enough for their knees to be only inches away from touching one another.
After a leisurely boat ride across the channel that connected King Tilton and King Shelton’s kingdoms, they’d taken a carriage through the mountainous passage. They’d ridden for hours, the steady trot of the pristine white horses lulling her in and out of sleep.
With a book in her hand, and an open window at her side, she tried to distract herself. She could only stare at the beautiful forest and countryside for so long before everything began to blur into a canvas of trees and mountains.
Instead of taking yet another nap, she found herself watching him, even if he failed to give her little more than the occasional glance.
Her warden and captor.
Why didn’t she hate the king?
She still didn’t know much about him. He was quiet and reserved. A complete opposite from his brothers.
Perhaps it was his kindness, something she hadn’t expected even though Kelton had done his best to make her comfortable. Kelton was different, his generosity always felt forced.
Tilton, on the other hand, had a spark of gentleness in his eyes and the way he spoke. Whenever he opened his mou
th to ask her if she needed anything, she could tell he was genuine.
She wished he’d speak to her more. Yawning, she slouched in the cushioned seat, bored.
“More dried fruit, my lady?” Luca’Rosi asked, handing her a small porcelain dish of dried apricot, mango, and banana.
Ophelia wasn’t hungry, but she’d do anything to fight the boredom threatening to drive her mad. She took a piece of mango and popped it into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she savored the flavor as she slowly chewed and let the juices spread across her tastebuds.
When she opened her eyes, she glanced at her book and sighed.
“How much longer until we reach your kingdom?”
King Tilton lifted a heavy dark brown brow and met her gaze. Azure eyes as pure as the early morning sky searched hers. Closing his book, he cleared his throat and finally gave her his full attention.
She shuffled in her seat, sitting up straighter. Maybe he’d share more than three words with her.
“We’re already in my kingdom,” he said, calmly, folding his hands across his closed book. “I’m assuming you mean to ask when we will arrive at my palace? Soon. A few more hours at the most.”
Not too bad, considering she was still unsure what to expect when they reached their destination. She could be in a hurry to spend her days in a dark and rancid dungeon for all she knew.
She swallowed a lump in her throat at the thought. As they stared at one another, she couldn’t imagine him mistreating her.
“Tell me about yourself,” she said, despite the flushing of her face. He made her nervous, but she was tired of remaining silent. She needed to know who she was dealing with.
He simply watched her for a moment, then, his gaze went to the passing mountains.
“What do you want to know?”
She frowned. Great. Chatting with him was going to be like watching grass grow. Rolling her eyes, she sighed and shook her head.
“Never mind,” she muttered, opening her book—a book about falconry. She sighed.
“You are a strange creature,” he said, and she slammed the book shut.
Leaning forward, she grimaced, indignant.
“Why?”
He shrugged his shoulders, brows furrowed. “Well, firstly, I don’t quite understand your scales. Why do you have scales while in your human form?”
“Its just the way it is,” she said, shaking her head, auburn waves bouncing.
Now, she wished she could cover the bronze scales that covered her left shoulder and the back of her neck. In Harrow, they were thought to be beautiful. To a human…they were strange.
“Without them,” he continued. “I dare say you’d be beautiful. Like a human.”
She scoffed. “Oh, yes. Because, only humans can truly be beautiful. How human of you to say.” Heat rose in her cheeks and though she crossed her arms over her chest, he laughed.
She flickered a perplexed glance his way. “What’s so bleeding funny?”
He waved at her and composed himself, still smiling—a smile she didn’t want to see fade even if it was at her expense.
“Nothing,” he said. “Pardon my manners. Its just that you are so easily offended. You’re going to want to develop a thicker skin if you’re going to survive in my court. Dragons have scales, but humans have sharp tongues and even pricklier ideals about your kind.”
“I can handle myself,” she said with a huff.
He tilted his head, still smiling. “I can see that.”
She chewed the inside of her lip, frowning. She shouldn’t have let him upset her so easily. Perhaps he wasn’t as boring as she’d thought.
“How about you tell me something? What are you going to miss most about Draconia?”
That was an odd question, but, she didn’t have to think too long about the answer. She would miss many things.
“My mother, Rowen, and my gardens I suppose.”
“Gardens?”
She nodded. “Yes. I enjoy planting flowers and ushering their growth.”
“Is that normal for a woman of your station back in Draconia?”
“I suppose not,” she replied. “But, my father allowed me to do most anything I wanted…as long as it meant staying away from Rowen.”
“Interesting,” he said, his eyes widening a bit.
“And, board games,” she added. “I enjoy a good competitive game.”
“Ah,” he said, nodding knowingly. “You seem like the kind of person to like competition.”
“Why do you say that?”
“You’re headstrong, feisty, and dare I say a bit arrogant.”
Pursing her lips, she narrowed her eyes at him. “And, you’re a bit of an arse.”
His chuckle filled the carriage, and even Luca’Rosi gave a little giggle, though she nudged her for less-than-ladylike language. For some reason, that made Ophelia smile.
“True,” he said, laughing into his fist. “You’re also perceptive, and a bit of a breath of fresh air, honestly.”
She smiled, perhaps for the first time in days. “Do you play board games?”
“I do,” he said. “Perhaps we can play together one day. After I return.”
A brow lifted. “Return? Are you going somewhere?”
His smile faded then, and he sat up taller, jaw tightening. “Yes,” he said. “I’ll be leading my army against that of King Rickard of Withrae.”
She paled, remembering that this wasn’t a game. Real people would lose their lives.
Her stomach sank, and when the king resumed reading his book, she knew their conversation was over.
King Rickard was going to fight King Tilton. What did that mean for Rowen?
Chapter 3
Heat rose from the smooth black volcanic rock. At the base of a volcano, Rowen crawled on her hands and knees toward a rushing river in the distance. Lava trailed down the grooves alongside her, as did her tormentor.
Rays of light shone through gaps in the canopy of trees, and glistened along the pewter stone of the mountains. Within seconds, the sunshine was blotted out by thick clouds of smoke.
“Where are we going this time, dear Queen?” Priscilla asked, twirling a lock of dark hair around her finger as she tugged at the chain at the end of the collar around Rowen’s throat.
The stirring within her belly was all that kept her from going mad.
Keep it secret. That was her only task. The sorceress could not know about the child, and she would fight with her last breath to protect it. But, that was exactly it—she couldn’t afford die.
The child needed her to live.
Tears streamed down her face as she thought of Rickard. He didn’t even get the chance to learn of her pregnancy. Such sorrow was nearly enough to break her. But, no. She had to be strong. She had to defeat the evil lurking in her brain.
“Not another volcano,” Priscilla said with an exasperated sigh. “Is that all you ever dream about? Fire? Lava? Where is the good stuff? The prophecies?”
Rowen didn’t speak. It was a difficult task to keep her mind clear of the important bits.
“You’ve taken me through your childhood, your schooling, even the seduction of the crown prince. I did find that bit about your stepfather rather intriguing, but I need more, Rowen. Give me what I ask for and I will set you free.”
Good. Rowen was stalling. If she could keep the sorceress busy with memories that meant nothing, she might find a way to awaken and kill her.
“Did he really try to poison you?”
She flinched. “You’ll get nothing from me, witch.”
“How your mother let such abuse go on is beyond me. She must have been absolutely horrible.”
I never told her.
“My mother was a lovely woman. She would never have let anything like that happen to my brother and I. Then again, she was human. I can see how Dragons treat their offspring. Even so-called nobles. Positively shameful.”
“She couldn’t have been that lovely to have raised such a madwoman,” Rowen retort
ed.
Priscilla sucked her teeth.
Smiling inwardly, it brought Rowen a small measure of satisfaction, knowing she was annoying her captor.
“Now, dear, don’t make me go searching through the dark depths of your mind on my own. It’ll only lengthen your agony. Come, show me. Then, we can go our separate ways and you can live out the rest of your life in peace. Deal?”
Peace? Not likely.
Though her words dripped with feigned sweetness, there was no way that was what the sorceress wanted. If she sought the hidden prophecies, she meant to use it for evil. Not good.
Rowen had gone this long without trusting others. Why stop now when it had helped her survive this long?
“Leave my head and I will take pity on you.”
She sighed with exasperation, if not impatience. “I like you, Rowen. How you managed to hook both princes of the Dragon Court was remarkable. You’re a natural temptress like myself. I’d wager we’d have been great friends if we’d have met under different circumstances.”
With a snort, Rowen sneered at her. “I’ll have you locked in the darkest dungeons and spare your depraved life. Last chance to redeem yourself.”
Priscilla burst out laughing. “You do know how to cheer me up, Rowen. I enjoy our banter. I enjoy the fact that you think you can defeat me even more.”
Rowen cried out when the collar was jerked back and she was sent flying backward and into the ground. With a sharp tug, Priscilla dragged Rowen across the ground until she lay at her feet.
Then, she lifted her boot and placed it square on Rowen’s chest.
“Do not forget who holds the leash and who is collared,” she hissed. “Until I release you—if I release you—you are my pet. My pawn. A pretty doll I play with when I’m bored. I own you.”