by Katy Haye
Nine Dragons Gold
by
Katy Haye
A courtly game. An impossible prize.
Lady Hanna is used to being the neglected, unwanted daughter, ignored by a father who only values his sons.
Until Muirland’s crown prince needs a wife.
Suddenly, Hanna is dragged from her quiet life and taken to the royal court, where it is a matter of life and death to fulfil her father’s ambitions by beating the other candidates and winning the prince’s hand.
But four other girls – beautiful, clever and determined – are also vying to become the princess. Inexperienced Hanna must learn to navigate the treacherous currents of court life – and friendship – if she is to have any chance of securing a glittering future for herself.
Nine Dragons Gold © Katy Haye 2020
Cover design © Miblart
The right of Katy Haye to be identified as the Author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced in any form without the written permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and should not be resold or given away to other people.
This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events depicted in this novel are fictitious and any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.katyhaye.com
Contents
1 – Beneath his Notice
2 – Found You
3 – Outlawed Magic
4 – In Your Hands
5 – A Feted Daughter
Prince Jaran
6 – On My Own
7 – Every Detail
8 – Disarmingly Honest
9 – Barley in the Field
Prince Jaran
10 – Youth and Strength
11 – Kindred Spirit
12 – Something Unexpected
13 – A Partiality
Prince Jaran
14 – Scruples
15 – Treasure
16 – Harmony
Prince Jaran
17 – Wise Advice
18 – An Upset
19 – A Ruthless Queen
20 – A Salutory Lesson
Prince Jaran
21 – A Biddable Girl
22 – Chance to Shine
23 – Jealous Creatures
24 – Using Magic
Prince Jaran
25 – A Royal Order
26 – Too Scared
27 – Inside the Tower
28 – Greater Danger
Prince Jaran
29 – Out of Reach
30 – A Slippery Man
31 – With a Vengeance
32 – Justice
33 – Never let him Go
34 – Different Place
Prince Jaran
1 – Beneath His Notice
It had to be important. My father had come in person.
I leaned against the sill of my window as though I could sink into the stone, and watched the cavalcade approach. My last sight of my father had been from this spot five years earlier when he had left me here. I had watched his broad figure ride away without a backward glance, torn between dismay at being abandoned, and delight that I was free of my father and his stepmother’s watchful, unkind eyes.
Now, I wished with all my heart he had abandoned me; forgotten he even had a daughter. The House of Compassion sited on the highest hill on Senna Island had become my home, a haven for both myself and my mother. As I watched the horses draw nearer, glints of metal catching the sunlight, I was afraid the calm mama and I had found was about to be torn apart.
Children from the village at the foot of the hill ran out to watch the procession – a colourful break from otherwise uneventful lives. There were eight horses in all, each one decked in the finery appropriate to Lord Goyrn Bal, Lord of the Isles and member of the King’s council. The tiny figures waved, mouths open in cheers as the group trotted past. The crowd was ignored by my father; beneath his notice. I wished I still occupied that position.
I leaned against the window frame, half-hidden, even though the group was too far away for the riders to spot me. I still felt as though my father could see me. The sun gleamed off the smooth coat of the horses, but it was brightest where it flashed off all the metal in the procession. The spears of the guards riding in front and behind shone, their pennants rolling in the breeze; bridles caught the sun as the horses moved their heads. My father’s hat glinted, light catching the jewels that decorated it to emphasise his wealth and importance.
I should prepare for his arrival, I knew that: change my gown, wash my face and style my hair in a manner more becoming than the practical braid I kept it in while working with the sisters here. I didn’t move. If I didn’t accept he was coming, he might never arrive, walking along a path which would never end.
“Your father will be here within minutes.” Sister Marna spoke at my shoulder, making me jump. I had been so focused I hadn’t heard her enter the room.
“Yes.” My lips barely moved, as though I were afraid my father might hear me. He had no desire to hear my voice, nor my opinions. I would remember to hold my tongue for as long as he stayed.
“I think it would be best if we didn’t mention his arrival to –”
“Hanna!” The door crashed open, slamming back against the wall. Too late. My mother’s face glowed. “Have you seen?” She rushed inside, grabbing my hands. Her eyes were luminous with expectation, with hope. My stomach roiled to see it.
“Yes, mama.”
“Your father is coming. I saw the horses myself. I saw him!” Her fingers crept to her mouth, as though she needed to cram her excitement back inside her lips.
Sister Marna met my gaze and slid out of the room. I was glad for the privacy. I patted her arm, my smile artificially bright. “I know, mama. I saw the horses, too.”
Her fingers brushed over my face, examining me. She straightened the neck of my dress, ensuring it lay smooth against my skin. “We must look our best. If we are lucky, he will take us both to court. He promised me, you know, when I was a young bride.” She smiled, stroking my cheek. “Not much older than you are now.”
I caught her hand, holding it against my face. “I know, mama. You’ve told me.” A thousand times. I swallowed. “I don’t think he’s here to take us to court.” Not us; possibly me. And I shared none of mama’s enthusiasm for that destination.
She drew back, a frown drawing her eyebrows together. “But he will. He promised.”
I caught her waving hand. My voice was soft, as though she were a hooded falcon I didn’t wish to startle. “Do you remember that Lord Bal has a new bride?”
Her face fell, the way it always did when she had to face reality. Guilt turned in my stomach, followed by anger. My father had broken her, and left the pieces here, caring nothing for what he had done. My mother had failed him, and thus she ceased to exist.
Her eyes filled with tears, her lip wobbling. Her tone was filled with confusion. “A new bride?”
“That’s right.” If thirteen years could be considered ‘new’. “That’s why we are here. You must remember.” She must remember, or she would cause a scene and Father would never forgive either of us. Mama blinked, a single tear escaping her eye and trickling down her round cheek.
I swallowed down my dismay and pressed on, “You were set aside, and you retired to the House of Compassion here.” On a tiny island at the very edge of Father’s holdings where she could safely be forgotten. Father’s embarrassing choice hidden from view as though she’d never existed.
“Retired.” She sounded as though she barely knew wh
at the word meant. I silently cursed my father. Most days she was better than this. Just the sight of him had destroyed her all over again. I glanced towards the window, glad that the cavalcade had followed the twist in the road so they were now out of sight.
“That’s right. I came to join you five years ago.” When my stepmother’s dislike of me had persuaded my father and he’d allowed me to join Mama.
Mama blinked, like a bear stumbling out of hibernation. “Then ... why has he come to visit now?”
“I have no idea,” I told her, my teeth clenching as I spoke the words. I’d hoped that out of sight would be out of mind for me, too, but it seemed I was wrong. My father must have found a use for his unwanted daughter. I didn’t want to know what that use might be.
“Maybe...” Her tears dried, her expression brightening. “Maybe he has relented. I have been punished enough.” She nodded decisively. “He will take me back, I know he will.”
Tears pricked at my eyes to hear her speak so. Father would never relent. But if I argued, she would only grow more distressed. I patted her hand. “You should return to your room. Wear something pretty. He will be sure to want to see us looking our best.”
“Yes!” Her face radiant, she started to leave. At the door, she turned back. “Wash your face, Hanna,” she instructed, sounding like a mother for the first time in days. Her smile twisted fondly. “My pretty girl. Your father will be so proud of you.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, waiting until the door closed before turning to my own preparations. Earning Father’s pride was an impossible hope. I would be happy just to survive our encounter unscathed.
2 – Found You
“Lord Bal requires your presence.” The heavy fist on my door startled me, and the command spoken in a rough, male voice dried my throat.
I smoothed my skirts, surprised to see my fingers shake. I curled them to fists.
“He’s just a man, and you are more than a match for him,” Sister Marna whispered. She had come to help arrange my hair, her hands on my shoulders sending strength through me.
I nodded. Just a man. But one who could turn my life upside down with a few words, simply because he willed it.
I knew the way to the office perfectly well, but I was grateful for father’s messenger walking ahead to give me something to focus on. My throat was dry while my underarms prickled with sweat. My body was behaving like a cornered animal.
The messenger paused before the door, glancing back to ensure I hadn’t run away. Then, he threw the door wide and gestured for me to go inside.
The House of Compassion was a place of frugality. Even the Mother’s office was designed to be practical rather than grand. It was small, her desk and chair filling most of the space, with bookcases occupying the rest.
As a result, my tall father dwarfed the space, filling the room, fists on hips as he watched me walk in. The Mother was nowhere to be seen, her office offering privacy for whatever my father had to tell me. Which must be both important, and not for general consumption.
My gaze dropped from his stern glare. The door closed, the thud of the messenger tugging it home making my shoulders twitch. I took a step inside and dropped into a low curtsy, my eyes on father’s feet. His boots were dusty from the ride. He hadn’t taken the time to wash or brush his clothes before speaking to the Mother and now to me. In a rush. I hoped that meant this would be a fleeting visit. His business took him all over the islands. Was he passing and just wished to set eyes on me to ensure I was still alive? But that could be done in front of the Mother. I swallowed, but still my mouth was dry. “Father,” I managed. “You honour me with your visit.”
He grunted. I stayed low, my senses sharp, listening to his breaths, watching his boots for a shift of weight. It was five years since I’d been in my father’s presence. Memories of how to handle him rushed back, and I knew demure silence was safest.
“Your manners are acceptable.” He rocked back on his heels, then stepped forward. I made to rise. “No, stay where you are. Let me look at you.”
I froze, knees bent, fingers clutching my skirts. Father stepped to one side of me. I felt his gaze burning into me. The floor squeaked. He moved out of sight and the hairs on the back of my neck crawled with the desire to turn so I could keep watching him. He had no reason to be displeased, yet my muscles tensed, awaiting a blow.
My knees started to tremble with the effort of holding my position. Father’s boots scuffed the floor behind me. Finally, my lowered gaze caught sight of his boots on my other side. He completed his circuit slowly and stood in front of me. Every muscle was screaming at me to stand.
“Do – do I please you, Father?”
He grunted. “It’s not me I’m worried about.” He sniffed. “Stand up.”
I did so, holding back a sigh of relief, pegging my gaze on the toggles of his jacket where they met across his broad chest. He stepped forward, pinching my chin between thumb and forefinger, forcing my gaze up to meet his. My mother often said I had my father’s eyes, the only physical sign of my siring. As I looked into his face now, I wondered if that were really true. Surely my eyes never looked so coldly calculating as his?
“Your face and your figure are acceptable,” he told me, his breath warm on my face. I held my silence, while I wondered if he expected a reply. What reply would be correct? I was glad to please him, but what I might have done about the matter if he’d found fault, I didn’t know. “The Mother tells me you have a sharp mind,” he huffed at that, a sound I thought signalled amusement at the idea of a woman needing cleverness. “And they tell me you dance and sing satisfactorily.”
His pause went on for longer this time. “Yes, Father,” I said at last.
“Good. The Mother can have no idea whether you possess female charm, but I hope that will prove to be the case for you will need all your talents.” He let me go and stepped back. I didn’t drop my gaze. My heart was beating wildly. If I needed feminine accomplishments, that could only mean...
“I have found you a husband.”
3 – Outlawed Magic
The room spun around me, the shelves of books surging towards me, my father looming like a giant from the tales of old. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, swallowing down the bile that rose in my throat. When I opened my eyes, I was smiling. I dipped another curtsy. “You do me great honour, Father.”
“I hope you will do both me and our family honour, daughter.”
I swallowed again. I might not even recognise the name. But I had to ask. “Who am I to marry?”
Father stuck his thumbs into his belt, rocking back on his heels, grinning in a rare display of satisfaction. “You will wed Prince Jaran.”
I blinked. I must have misheard. Muirland’s crown prince? The kingdom’s regent while his father was gravely ill and unable to hold the throne? He would surely look abroad for a wife, a princess from a neighbouring country. Although a foreign bride was perhaps not desirable. We were at peace with Surran, the treaty sealed with the marriage of Jaran’s sister to the new king. And I understood Nordin, our northerly neighbour, to be in a state of unrest. Perhaps we wished not to involve ourselves in their trouble. Or maybe they had no females to spare.
But even if our royal family chose to set their sights lower ... me? What could my father possibly have said to persuade the prince that I was a suitable match?
Father roared with laughter. “I see your surprise. You think such a thing impossible.”
“No, of course not—” I dared show no doubt of his ability to negotiate, although that was precisely the thought ringing in my mind. Such an elevation of our family over the others in the kingdom. How had my father persuaded the prince – and his father, King Haran – of the value of a union? Cold settled in my stomach: what had he promised on my behalf?
“Nothing is impossible for our family.” He stepped closer and his amusement drained away. His forehead settled into a frown while his eyes sparkled with determination. “The prince need
s a wife. The king is sickly and not likely to live long.”
I gasped. The king’s injuries – caused when he was attacked in his own palace by a fae shifter in dragon form – were reported to be grave, but I hadn’t heard anyone speak about his death in so off-hand a tone.
Father waved away my scruples. “Prince Jaran must produce an heir to secure the throne. He has invited each council member to provide a sister or daughter for his consideration. He will marry whichever he likes best.”
“Oh.” I had misunderstood Father’s words. He hadn’t persuaded the king or the prince to agree to a marriage with me, I was only one of several possible choices. I went cold, because that meant...
Father leaned towards me, glaring. “You must ensure that you are chosen to be his bride.”
My mouth opened and shut. Suffocating anger rose in me. There was no way to tell my father the impossibility of his plan without attracting his fury. I was here because Father had sent me to the Sisters of Compassion, but the skills I had learned on this tiny island – to set a broken bone, write a fine hand and dance a little – were scarcely enough to enable me to best women raised with the expectation of a great marriage. “I – I will do my best,” I said at length. I didn’t stand a chance against other girls who had been raised at court, who understood politics and could navigate the currents of favour and power.
“You will do more than your best,” he roared, spittle hitting my cheek. “You will win the prince’s favour and ensure your family has the ear of the next king.”
My heart fled to my boots. “Yes, Father.”
“‘Yes, Father,’” he mocked. “You’re an idiot. Do you think I would leave such a matter entirely in your feeble hands?”
I waited, too many thoughts circling my mind for me to dare speak any aloud. Father glanced around the room as though ensuring we were alone. He reached into his jacket, withdrawing something small, hidden in his large fist.
“You will find a chance to be private with the prince. Put this in his drink and he will fall in love with you.” He pressed a tiny bottle into my hand, a glass phial stoppered with wax.
