The Azure Kingdom
(Skeleton Key)
By:
Michelle Dare
The Azure Kingdom
Michelle Dare
Published by Michelle Dare
Copyright ©2016 Michelle Dare
First Edition, ebook - published 2016
Cover Design by J.M Rising Horse Creations
Stock Photo by Dollar Photo Club
Interior Design & Proofreading by Riane Holt
Editing by Barren Acres Editing
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Michelle Dare
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One key, one door, one man, one leap.
Alison Wescot inherited the antique store the day her mother died. It was nothing she wanted, but she couldn’t part with it. The antiques inside were all she had left of her mother. She thought she knew every piece in the store, until one day she discovered a box with a key inside, along with a letter from her mother. A key to a door she never knew existed.
Lucas Azure is the leader of the kingdom’s elite guard, a group of men whose sole purpose was to protect their territory and people. The youngest of the king’s four children, he was also the deadliest. The men in his group followed him faithfully, never questioning his orders. When Alison appeared, he knew he had to protect her at all costs.
The day Alison walked through the door, her recurring dream became a reality. The man who always remained a mystery was standing before her. There were dragons flying overhead and a castle in the distance. She was now in the Azure Kingdom.
Acknowledgements
My husband, my children, and my family make writing possible. My husband knows how much I love to write and picks up the slack when I’m doing so. My kids have a little less time with me, and I can only hope one day they are proud of what I’ve accomplished. I love them all!
Shannon, another book, another declaration of love for you. Thank you for always being there.
Stephanie and Laura, you two help me in so many ways. I appreciate you more than you know.
My betas are awesome and gave me great feedback to help make this book what it is. Crissy, Sharon, Lianne, Natalie, Lisa, Laura, Jeneane, Rebecca, Mary, Stephanie, and Jennifer, thank you for beta reading this book for me.
To my street team, thank you for everything you do. I’m so fortunate to have you on my team.
Zolie, Mecca, and Michele, you are wonderful friends. Thank you for always listening and supporting me.
To Karen, Jennifer, and Riane, this book looks as great as it does because of you. Thank you so much for your hard work.
The book community is made up of wonderful authors, bloggers, and readers. Thank you to each person who has shared, read, reviewed, and supported me.
I have so much love for all you!
This book is very different from the others I’ve written. I didn’t know how I’d like writing fantasy, but I absolutely loved it and hope to write more in this genre. Thank you for reading and I hope you love Ali and Luke as much as I do!
Table of Contents
Chapter 1 – Discovery
Chapter 2 – Decisions
Chapter 3 – Revelations
Chapter 4 – Neighbor
Chapter 5 – Promises
Chapter 6 – Tali
Chapter 7 – Question
Chapter 8 – Ultimatum
Chapter 9 – Choices
Chapter 10 – Family
Chapter 11 – Speech
Chapter 12 – Warning
Chapter 13 – King Pine
Chapter 14 – Aftermath
Chapter 15 – Together
Chapter 16 – Treaty
Chapter 17 – Surprise
Chapter 18 – Reunion
Epilogue
About the Author
Discovery
My eyes fly open and I immediately sit up. I’m scanning the room, trying to find him, the man on top of the hill. Then I realize I’m not in the field of azure flowers. Reality comes crashing down around me. I’m in my bedroom. My skin is covered in a sheen of sweat, and my heart is beating so fast, it’s like it’s going to pound right out of my chest. The recurrent dream is so real that every time I wake, I have to remember I’m not living it; it was only in my mind.
Lying back down, my eyes close, and I try to calm my racing heart. Maybe by some crazy chance I can fall back into the dream. Unfortunately, I’m not that lucky. After tossing and turning for who knows how long, I realize I can’t, however, I replay it all behind closed eyes.
I emerge from a small house and turn to look it over. It’s an old cottage with a weathered, slate blue wooden door and colorful ivy covering the exterior walls. The air is warm, but not humid, and the sun is shining down, heating my skin to chase away the chill I have at being in a strange place. The second my feet hit the grass, the cottage disappears, and I’m left in a field of the most beautiful blue flowers. They are nothing like I’ve ever seen. The flowers remind me of miniature sunflowers with a color that resembles a clear sky on a summer day. Oddly, they aren’t fragrant.
My fingers gently graze their silky petals. I’m so amazed by the flowers that I don’t see the man standing in the distance. It’s only when I hear a sound, like I’ve never heard before, that I notice him. A loud roar pierces the air, which makes the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
My gaze is fully on them now. The man’s face is shadowed by a dragon, but his armor is clear, as well as his outline. I can’t make out the intricacies of it from my place down the hill, but notice the steel blue color of it, and how it appears to fit close to his body. He’s also wearing a cape which is billowing behind him in the breeze. Heat spreads throug
h my body at the sight of him. There’s something about him that sets my body ablaze, even from this far away. A connection to him I can’t explain.
By his side is a creature I’ve only seen in movies or imagined from reading, a mostly white dragon. Variances of grey scales blend in with the white ones to make it something I can only describe as majestic. Against the azure flowers the dragon stunningly stands out. Its wings are moving in a fluid motion behind the man as it roars again. Horns stick out all around its head, giving off the aura of deadliness. Strangely, I’m not afraid. I’m eerily calm. That is, until the man extends his arm and uses his hand to beckon me forward. I hear his voice like a whisper on the wind. It’s captivating, making me want to go toward him, but why does he want me near?
My fear starts to kick in as I take hesitant steps, unsure if I’m making the right decision to go forward. Even as my mind argues that this might not be the wisest decision, my feet keep moving. I’m no longer in control of my body. When it doesn’t seem like I’m walking fast enough, I break into a sprint. There is something inside my heart that whispers how important it is that I get to him. My mind and heart are at war with one another, but my heart ultimately wins. I need to stand beside him. He will protect me. From what, I’m not sure.
I’m running, only I’m not getting any closer. No matter how fast I move, I can’t reach him. I extend my hand toward him as he does the same. It seems as if we’re miles apart. He is forever untouchable.
That’s when I wake up, as I just did, due to the exertion in my dream. I’m panting like I was really running. Each time I have the dream, it’s like the first time I’m having it, discovering everything anew. It’s always the same dream, too. This dream is different from all of my others, though. I’ve had recurring dreams before, but they’ve never felt so real. I want to get back into this dream and find him. It feels imperative to my survival that I do so.
Opening my eyes again, I glance at the alarm clock beside my bed. Seven in the morning. I don’t have to open the store for two more hours. What I should do is go back to sleep, although I know that won’t happen. Every time I close my eyes I see him. Maybe that’s not such a bad thing after all.
I groan and roll onto my back. My hands rub the last bit of the dream from my vision as I throw the blankets off. Why is it that every time you want to lie in bed all day, you can’t? I don’t want to move. I want to spend the day wrapped up in my head with my mystery man.
I drop my feet to the warm hardwood and drag myself to the bathroom to freshen up, before heading to the kitchen to get the coffee brewing. I know I’ll seriously need it today, given I missed out on some much needed sleep.
My apartment takes up the entire second story of the building my antique shop is in. I do have a third floor, but it’s for storage. After my mom passed away, I moved in here. Her death came around the same time as my divorce from my cheating, asshole of a husband. I had planned on moving in to help care for her, but I didn’t have enough time. The cancer took her sooner than expected.
I grew up here, however moved away for college, and then work. My dad is someone I’ve never met, nor know anything about. My mom always kept the details vague in regards to him, and I don’t have any siblings. It was up to me to handle everything for my mom. She left very detailed paperwork of how she wanted her service and burial. Her store instructions were included in there, as well. She was adamant that I take it over. It was nothing I wanted to do. I had a job in advertising, which I quit to run her business. I couldn’t let her final wishes fall on deaf ears.
So, here I sit at the table in the eat-in kitchen of my apartment, over the antique store that my mother left me. It’s been a year since she died. I’ve changed out the furniture in the apartment to things that are more my taste, which was a little tough. With every piece I replaced, it was as if I was getting rid of pieces of her. I knew I couldn’t continue to live in the past, though.
The items she had fit with her taste, but I like a more contemporary style. Knowing what she would want, I put her pieces in the store for others to purchase. She always said no piece was too old or too worn. There was a home out there for every item in the store, they were only waiting for their owners to show up. She spoke like each piece were a living being. I guess, in a way, they did talk to her. Each had a story, many years of being loved before finding its way to her store.
Most days I’m bored senseless waiting for people to come in. Antiques are an acquired taste. The people who do come in look adoringly over each piece, and I sit and wonder what they see. Maybe the pieces call to them like they did my mom.
I read. A lot. If I didn’t, the days would drag on. After I lock up each night, I go back to my apartment and to my sad existence. This is not the way I expected to be spending my time at the age of twenty-three. There hasn’t been another man in my life and I’m not actively looking for one. After what I went through with my ex, I’m in no hurry. I’m lonely, though. All of the friends I had from the advertising firm forgot about me when I left, and I’m not one to chase people who don’t seem interested in putting in the effort to remain friends.
The sweet sound of coffee dripping into the pot reaches my ears. Grabbing a yogurt from the fridge and some granola, I sit them on the table until the coffee is finished brewing. I’m not big on breakfast, but if I don’t eat I’ll feel sick all day.
After eating and downing two cups of my much needed caffeine, I go into the bathroom to get ready. I throw on a pair of dark denim jeans and a long-sleeved, black v-neck, then run wet fingers through my long, black hair in an effort to tame some of the frizz. My hair has a natural wave that only needs a little encouragement from the water to become springy. Then I hope for no humidity today.
I apply light makeup to my eyes and call it a day. I don’t need to get all dolled up to sit behind a counter for hours on end. Before I go downstairs, I pour the remainder of the coffee into a travel mug and switch the pot off. This will get me through until lunch when I’ll take a short break to refill.
Downstairs, I switch on all of the lights and walk to the front door to turn over the sign saying I’m open, and unlock the door. The store is in the middle of downtown in the tiny rural area I live in. It’s your typical country setting of one main street with all of the stores you need on it and nothing else for at least a half hour’s drive. The kindness of the people that live here is something I cherish, even if I don’t venture out often. When I used to live in the city, people would walk right into you on the street and not even apologize. Being in this small town is a huge change of pace.
One hour goes by. Two. Four. I stand to lock the door so I can refill my cup, when an elderly couple walks in. I smile and sit back down, while they browse the items in the store. Watching them gives me a slight pain in my chest wishing my own grandparents were still alive. I have no family anymore. My mom was all I had left.
They continue their perusal and stop in front of a large, cherry dresser with a tall mirror in the center. The varnish is chipped and the mirror has seen better days. The thing has been here as long as I can remember. No one even looks at it for more than five seconds. The price tag alone turns them away. If it’s really worth that much I don’t know, but my mom priced it the way she did for a reason, so I leave it alone.
They open it up and take a look at the inside of the drawers. Each one is opened then closed. When they get to the bottom I see them pause while looking inside. Craning my neck, I try to see what they found to cause such intense interest. I haven’t opened any of the drawers, so I’m not sure what could be in there. The older man looks my way and I take that as a hint to walk to them.
“Hi,” I say in a cheery voice. “Can I help you with something?”
“The drawer doesn’t seem right.” The woman’s eyes wrinkle at the corner while she studies it.
Bending down, my brows furrow and I look inside. She’s right. It’s like the interior is only half of the depth it should be. Pushing around on the piece of wood
at the bottom, I find it gives a little in the back. I continue to press on it until the corner of the wood lifts. When I’m able to pry it free, I notice there is a hidden storage space. Tucked into the corner of the space is a small, pewter box.
I take it in my hand and stand to look it over. The detail is amazing for such a small piece. On the lid are two roses and a sunflower with sweeping lines around the border. It’s in the shape of a rectangle with scalloped edges, and each side has roses on it with more filigree work. There are four tiny legs, which give the box a delicate look.
Opening the lid, I notice red velvet inside, which has become worn in spots over time. There is a key within and a folded up piece of paper. I withdraw the key first to study it. It’s made of thick, opaque glass, roughly four inches long, if I had to guess, and is heavy and cold in my hand. There is a skeleton head on one end and two teeth at the other. What an odd looking key.
“It’s a skeleton key,” the man says from beside me. I look up at him and see him studying the items in my hands. He takes the key from my palm and holds it up to the light. “I’ve never seen one quite like this,” he adds.
His wife steps up, lifting her round glasses from her petite nose to look at it as well. While they are studying it, I remove the letter from the box. I’m shocked to see my name in my mother’s handwriting on the front. I sit the box down on the dresser and place my hand over my mouth, while tears form in my eyes. I miss her so much, and here in my hand I hold something she left for me.
Alison,
If you are reading this letter, that means I wasn’t there to give this box to you. I apologize for leaving you to discover this, but it’s a secret I must have thought you weren’t ready for yet. I know you won’t believe what you’re about to read, but I need you to keep an open mind.
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