Age of Gold Book One to Three: To Claim a King, To Catch a Prince, To Tame a Rogue (Tales of Midgard 1)

by May Sage

  The figure on the other side of the fire sprang to her feet and gracefully walked to Xandrie’s side. “You’re awake.” Her voice was soft and slow—she spoke the common tongue, with an accent Xandrie just couldn’t place. Her looks were just as foreign—golden skin, bright green eyes, a cascade of shining brown curls coiling about her shoulders. The stranger was a remarkable beauty—more so than Xandrie’s fair sister, and perhaps just as much as the Elves she’d met in the woods. “I’m Demelza.”

  The woman held out her hand; as Xandrie reached to shake it, she felt a burning on the tender skin between her thumb and forefinger. She looked at it, growing even more confused. There was no mistaking it, a rune blazed, but didn’t consume her flesh. She’d only glanced at Talia’s ancient books on runecraft, but she recognized the mark as Ansuz, the messenger rune that symbolized new beginnings.

  Okay, so maybe she’d just bashed herself really hard on the head when she fell…

  The memories rushed back. The animals panicking and rushing out of the woods—Claws falling. She had saved the tiger and then, gone over the edge of the cliff. She’d been plummeting to her death, when a red dragon…

  Her adrenaline spiked. She scoured the cave, searching for her bow and quiver. “There’s a dragon on the loose.”

  Demelza didn’t move. She didn’t frown. It was as if she hadn’t heard.

  “I’m serious,” said Xandrie. She understood why the woman would doubt her—dragons didn’t just go strolling about in Northern Var. According to her schooling, she knew there hadn’t been any fire-breathers in these parts for thousands of years.

  Yet, she knew what she’d seen—she remembered it too clearly for it to have been a product of her imagination. “I swear, I saw a red dragon, in flight. We need to warn the village. dragons mean death, destruction…I need to protect Talia.”

  Demelza moved her hair from her shoulders and smirked, before it began. She looked uncomfortable at first, and a blood-curdling sound—bones breaking, flesh morphing—made Xandrie cringe. But then, before her astonished eyes, the woman had completed her change. In front of her, filling the humongous cave, there was an actual, real live dragon.

  Xandrie stood, slack-jawed, the adrenaline ebbing and flowing through her in waves. Demelza was magnificent; a vision in red. Crazy as it was—in light of what she’d always thought, of what she’d said not a minute before—Xandrie felt no fear, only awe. “It was you.” Then, she realized the only thing that explained why she was still breathing. “You caught me.”

  The dragon had saved her life, which went against everything she’d ever heard about their race.

  Demelza shifted back to her glorious human form, laughing. “Getting you back here was excitement enough for one day, and besides, I’ve had a long flight. I don’t have the energy to consume an entire village.”

  Xandrie plunked herself back down by the fire. The dragon-woman who called herself Demelza had such a quiet, peaceful energy. “Sorry, people say…well…dragons don’t usually appear in these parts.”

  She felt silly for insulting the woman who’d saved her and sillier still for taking rumors for truth. She didn’t want to be rude, but it was true; there’d been no dragon sightings around Malec and she just didn’t know any better. Sometimes, cruelty was nothing more than ignorance.

  Demelza sighed. “We don’t come to the Northern Var. Nothing much here.” Well, that was true enough. “I had to get away for a while, though.”

  Xandrie asked why, her curiosity just as acute as it had been the previous day with the two mysterious elves.

  “A good woman died on my watch; another one. She birthed her dragonling and paid for it with her life. It happens a lot, and, well, flying tends to be distracting.”

  “I’m sorry. That really sucks,” said Xandrie. The words felt empty, but there was nothing else to say.

  Demelza shrugged. “Our women have been dying in childbirth for centuries. Over half our dragons grow up without a mother these days.”

  “Can’t you fix it?” It felt like such a stupid thing to say, so she added, “I thought dragons had powerful magic at their disposal.”

  “We have our own elemental magic, yes.” Demelza nodded at the fire, sending plumes of blue sparks up into the cave. A wave of her hand, and it went back to its gentle humming.

  It had seemed completely effortless on her part—natural. Yet Xandrie was well placed to know that this was beyond Talia’s skills. Fire was untamed and unyielding; mages made use of it, but controlling it? She’d never seen anyone foolish enough to try.

  But then again, she hadn’t met a dragon before.

  “Pretty impressive.”

  Demelza shrugged. “Perhaps. But you can’t burn your way to a safer birth.”

  Xandrie was reminded of the conversation she’d had with the Elves, and wondered if the mystical element, Aether, could have helped, but it was a pointless thought. The Aether-born prince was long gone now, and, besides, Xandrie had sworn she wouldn’t talk of their meeting.

  “But what about the mages, the Elves and the Fae? Surely someone can help.”

  “Andera, the kingdom’s most powerful mage, has been on the case and can find neither cause nor cure.”

  Shadow, Xandrie thought. If the cause was Shadow, there was little chance anyone who didn’t know of it could find ways to fight against it. She bit her lip, wishing she could loosen her tongue; but she wouldn’t. Keeping her word wasn’t something she thought of as optional.

  Just then, Claws rolled over, purring, and plunked his head in Demelza’s lap.

  “He does that when I’m sad, too,” said Xandrie. “I think he’s secretly an empath tiger, if there is such a thing.”

  “Possibly. He’s certainly very fond of you; he followed me up here and watched over you as you slept. But don’t you two fret on my account—these deaths are just part of our lives. I should be used to it by now; my own mother died having me,” Demelza continued, running her fingers through the cub’s ruff.

  Xandrie felt awkward as fuck, wanting to ease Demelza’s pain, befriend her, show her how grateful she was for saving her from the fall, but words had never been her forte. Sass and sarcasm, she could dish out like they were on sale for a dime a dozen, but meaningful words of comfort she had no experience with.

  Xandrie racked her brains for anything that might take Demelza’s mind off dying mothers and orphaned dragonlings. “I had to clean the toilet with a toothbrush last week.”

  Demelza frowned. “A toothbrush?” She laughed. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, Mother said something about not damaging the precious porcelain. I use a toothbrush for the lavvy, chamois leather for the windows, elbow grease for everything else. I go through a powerful amount of elbow grease, let me tell you.”

  “You’re a maid?” there was no judgment in the she-dragon’s tone. “Your energy and stance aren’t consistent with ‘maid.’ You read like a fighter.”

  She grinned, taking it as a compliment. She liked to think that her effort to keep herself fit had paid off.

  “I belong to a family of mages, but managed to enter the world with no powers or gifts, so I make myself useful. Could be worse. Once my chores are done, I come to the forest where I train with Claws for a few hours. Then I slip back into the village, under cover of night, and…dragon’s scales!” Xandrie cursed, looking around, but with no sky in view, it was impossible to tell the time. “I’ve been gone for too long today. I need to head home.”

  Claws rubbed his head on Demelza’s arm one last time, then returned to Xandrie’s side.

  Xandrie had a pang of deep sadness in the center of her chest. She’d felt such warmth and camaraderie sitting with Demelza, she wished she could blow curfew and hang by the fire and talk. But she couldn’t. If she didn’t get back when there were chores to be done, she’d be punished.

  “’Til we meet again,” said Demelza.

  “Will we?”

  She didn’t care that she sounded eag
er. She was sure this woman was meant to be her friend.

  Demelza seemed to think it through.

  “I live far, beyond the Plains and Lakelands. But, yes. Yes, I believe we shall.”

  Rage

  Rhey growled low, his ill humor growing worse each day.

  Since the shields had fallen, countless low-lifes had slunk their way inside his kingdom—thieves, goblins, and worse. Each day, he and his men patrolled. Then, he received the mages, Elves, and Fae he’d called to his aid, and let them explain why they couldn’t just reform an Aether wall. When he was done with that, he had to wine and dine the countless nobles crawling about his City.

  That left very little time for anything else. It had been days— days—since he’d counted his gold.

  And, true, he didn’t exactly need to check every single piece of treasure amassed in his chamber. But he wanted to. By the gods, he wanted to.

  “She did it again!”

  Rhey growled again; what was it with his cousin barging in his office without so much as announcing his presence?

  “Demelza has left. Again.”

  Rhey cocked an eyebrow, inviting his cousin to talk.

  “At least twice a week, for the last month, she’s flown away after seeing to her duties. She doesn’t come back until dawn.”

  He’d been worried when the shields had fallen, but she’d returned in one piece.

  “Demelza is a grown-ass woman trained by the best, Vincent. Let her be, or marry her, if you must.”

  His cousin grimaced, his disgust obvious.

  “I couldn’t marry that little runt! I just want to make sure she’s safe.”

  Rhey sighed; he had strong protective instincts towards their mutual friend. He’d rip out a throat if anyone ever hurt her—and he’d enjoy it, too. But unlike Vincent, he had accepted that she was an adult sometime over the last ninety years.

  “She’s safe, cousin. She’s probably just found some lover. Leave her be.”

  “And,” his cousin added, ignoring him, “she also leaves the kingdom—through the Gates of Norda.”

  Ah.

  That changed things.

  Xandrie never knew when her friend was going to turn up; each day, she hoped for the best when she got out of Malec, and, once a week, there she was, in the clearing Claws had claimed as his own.

  Demelza’s smile matched hers when Xandrie turned to find her there. She threw something Xandrie caught mid-flight. Opening the package, she found some blessed delight that made her stomach growl so hard one might have mistaken her for a dragon, too.

  “From the Royal Kitchens of Vasili, I bring you Melting Tatin, caramelized paradise that will disintegrate in your mouth.”

  Xandrie groaned. She’d thought she known good eats before Demelza started bringing delicacies from king Vasili’s bakers. She hadn’t. She popped the Tatin into her mouth, and then closed her eyes as the sugar and butter and apples rioted across her taste buds.

  How lucky she was; she wouldn’t have believed it if someone had told her she’d be eating pastries from a royal kitchen a season ago. Better yet, she was about to dive into weapons training with a real freaking dragon-princess.

  Xandrie had laughed when Demelza had revealed that particular piece of information, a lot. Come on, a princess? Her friend was a warrior, not some helpless damsel. But Demelza had told her that, apparently, the title meant a very different thing to dragons. Nobles and royals, be they male or female, were the guardians and protectors of their lands. She’d been expected to learn to fly, fight, and throw the strongest of fires; dancing lessons were entirely optional.

  “Shall we?” Demelza swung her sword over her head and readied herself.

  Xandrie smiled eagerly. She hadn’t had this much fun since she’d sparred with her brother.

  Demelza was obviously taking it easy on her—barely moving an inch to evade or block her each time she lunged—but, even though every controlled movement from the formidable she-dragon told her just how weak she really was, it beat practicing by herself. Besides, observing the woman’s graceful, elegant movements was a lesson in its own right. She made it look so effortless.

  The two women danced around the clearing, the sound of their weapons ringing through the forest, until Xandrie was out of breath and drenched in sweat.

  “I hate you a little, you know,” she joked, glaring at her friend. Demelza didn’t have the decency to look even remotely winded. Had she even broken a sweat? Nope, she looked just as calm and collected as if they’d been sipping plum wine and trading tales.

  Demelza dropped to the blanket under the beech tree and dug a couple of sandwiches from the picnic basket. “Hey, you’re not bad and I needed that. I don’t exercise anywhere near enough and, Eartia knows, I need to stay in shape if I have a hope in hell of holding my own during The Claiming.”

  “That’s the whacko tournament for the king’s hand, right?”

  Her friend had mentioned it once, a few days back.

  “Yup. I’ll be pitched against some of the most skilled swordswomen in the kingdom. Those chicks do not mess around.”

  “And if you win? Will you be whisked away by His Highness, never to be seen again?”

  “Ew! I call foul upon such a vile utterance,” Demelza swatted at Xandrie. “No, seriously. I don’t want to win. Rhey’s like a brother to me.”

  “So, why enter?”

  Demelza shrugged. “I’m the only unattached female in my line. I have no choice but to enter. If I didn’t, some might see it as proof of weakness, which is all but an invitation to attack in our principality.”

  Xandrie nodded. She couldn’t quite read Demelza’s almost unchanging expressions, so she wasn’t entirely sure what her new friend really thought of The Claiming. For all she knew, it was “business as usual” for dragons and Demelza was on board with the tradition. She didn’t want to offend one of the only people who seemed to enjoy her company by saying she thought a thousand women fighting for a king’s hand was revolting. Who’d want to find a queen that way? It seemed so primitive.

  “I need to make it through to at least the quarterfinals,” said Demelza through a mouthful, “so those court bitches don’t get ideas about pushing me around.”

  “Sounds like my life, except you need to substitute ‘family’ for ‘courtiers.’ Yet, they’d be wickedly jealous if they knew I’d seen a dragon.”

  “You haven’t said anything, have you? I’m not exactly supposed to meet humans.”

  “That would be a no. I’d be in as much trouble as you. Being outside the village walls without the required permits, missing curfew, blah-blah-blah. People get whipped for less.”

  The two women talked and laughed and ate and played “stay away” with Claws as though they’d been friends since birth, rather than strangers who’d met five times since Xandrie toppled off a cliff not a month ago. As the sun set, they packed up, said their farewells, and went their separate ways.

  Claws followed Xandrie as far as the tree line outside the village. She kissed her tiger cub on his magnificent head. “Dream valiant tiger dreams and such things, sweet.” Claws took his cue and ambled back into the thicket.

  Scaling the wall around the village wasn’t a problem, the trick was doing it when there were no guards around. Xandrie had it down to a science. It wasn’t that the guards were lazy, per se, they just preferred wine and dice to patrolling in the dark; their village was so dreadfully dull, she could hardly blame them. She was certain they’d have finished their rounds on the quarter-hour, but she scanned the alley to be sure it was clear before launching herself over the wall.

  Hands were on her as soon as she landed. She knew, based on his height and strength, but mostly his god-awful cologne, that it was Darsen. How had she missed that smell? He must have positioned himself downwind, which meant it was premeditated. What a slime bucket.

  “Well, well. What have we here? A song bird caught in my snare, perhaps?” said Darsen.

  She writhed ag
ainst his grip. The man was strong, there was no way she could out-muscle him. She could, however, outwit him. She slumped in his arms. He was a fool. He’d fall for the “you got me, I give up” trick. The minute he relaxed his hold, she jammed her heel into his shin and wrenched herself free. She was sure she could outrun him, but Darsen dodged left, then right and blocked her path. He was surprisingly nimble for such a blockhead. He backed her up against the rough stone wall, mashing himself against her, his hands tearing at her clothes. There was no mistaking his intent. His erection said it all. She felt like throwing up and yelling in anger all at once; rage burned and rose from her solar plexus, through her chest, down her arms and into her hands. She’d never felt anything like it. She drew her arms back and thrust at him, as hard as she could.

  Darsen stumbled away from her. “Bitch,” was all he managed. He pawed at his clothes, rending the fabric and swearing oaths. The alley was filled with the smell of singed flesh.

  Xandrie didn’t wait to see more, running down the alley as fast as her legs would carry her.

  The Guard

  Xandrie crashed into the house, slamming the iron door behind her. For once, she wanted everyone to hear her; it didn’t take more than a second to decide she had a duty to tell them what Darsen had done. It wasn’t just that she’d been in danger; if he was willing to attempt to rape the daughter of a mage, there was no one he wouldn’t attack. It wasn’t just rumors and her instincts talking now. She knew the facts.

  Mages stood above anyone of noble blood, except princes and kings; that meant her parents surpassed Darsen, and they were not known for being light-handed when it came to punishing miscreants. He was a noble, so they’d probably commute the sentence to exile, but she was certain they’d banish him someplace awful and keep her safe.