Song of Smoke: A Dragon Shifter Romance (The King's Series Book 1)

by Jillian James

  A soft rap at my door sets my nerves on edge, and I slide quickly out of bed and tiptoe across the room to peek outside. Eira’s heart-shaped face is the first thing I see through the narrow opening and her soft voice floats through the air and greets me.

  “I was worried about you. How did you sleep?” she asks, and I open the door wide for her to enter.

  She walks in and perches gracefully on the armchair where Dederic sat last night. I shake my head to rid it of any more thoughts of the man who forced me behind enemy lines last night.

  “Surprisingly well, actually,” I say and move again to the open window.

  I look back at Eira and study her from head to toe. The iron shackle has been removed and color has returned to her face.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “I feel… relieved, I suppose.” She stares off over my shoulder and frowns. “When I think back, it’s almost like I’m floating far off, watching it happen to someone else. Like a bad dream.”

  I nod and tip my face down, wishing that I could shed those memories myself and unwrap the oily layer covering me in sorrow and guilt that comes with knowing that my father - my people- would allow ourselves to sink to that kind of cruelty.

  “Do you want to bathe before everyone else is up for the day?” she asks. “I feel rather revolting, I figured you probably do too.”

  “I feel wretched.” I point to the small door that Dederic had indicated was the bathroom. “I intended to scrub the dirt off and try and get a comb through my hair before I was summoned at some point.”

  Eira smiles and shakes her head.

  “I have something better. Come.” She gets up and moves to the dresser by the window. “Did you find anything that looked like it would fit?”

  “I hadn’t really investigated yet,” I tell her as she begins pulling brightly colored items from the drawers. She holds up a gauzy red dress for me to inspect and a smile forms on my lips.

  “It’s lovely. You don’t think its owner will mind?” I ask, running the soft fabric through my fingers.

  “Not at all. If it fits you, it’s yours. Now, let’s hurry before anyone else is awake.”

  The chance to get out of this room and see more of the castle and the grounds is too great a temptation – maybe even more so than the bath itself. I grab the red dress and matching shoes and follow Eira to the door where a stern-looking soldier is blocking our exit. I stop short when his arresting yellow eyes meet mine, but Eira seems unfazed and floats out into the hall.

  “Come along, Odin. We are in search of warm water,” she says lightly. I squeeze by the dark-skinned male, taking in his long black hair and his quiet, brooding demeanor.

  “Who is that?” I ask Eira as he drops back and follows about ten paces behind us.

  “That,” she smirks and glances at him over her shoulder, “is Odin. Dederic must have assigned him to watch over you until you speak with the king and things settle down.”

  Ah. I think silently. No dungeon or prison cell, but not quite free, either.

  “He’s rather… intense,” I say, and Eira nods.

  “Oh, he’s quiet and a bit grouchy, but he’s got a very good heart,” she whispers.

  As we continue walking, the hallway opens and there are windows everywhere. I’m gifted with views of churning blue water and the heavenly smell of fresh air and green forest. Eira leads me down a wide, winding staircase that funnels us out into the great hall. It’s decorated beautifully with colorful tapestries and metalwork; long tables and comfortable-looking seats point towards an enormous fireplace that is framed by various musical instruments.

  Our pace is casual and unhurried, allowing me to take everything in. Apart from the surly man trailing behind us, we haven’t seen anyone else ̶ in either human or Dragon form - and I begin to relax and get my bearings.

  “We’ll be up in a bit,” Eira says and moves down the stairs as Odin parks himself at the edge of the doorway and meets my gaze. He tosses his head behind him, indicating I should follow her, so I murmur my thanks and leave him at his post.

  We emerge in a cavernous chamber with a massive pool of deep blue water in front of us. It’s warm and dim and I notice steam swirling languidly off the surface.

  “A hot spring?” I say in awe.

  Eira smiles and points towards the small tunnel leading out from the back of the pool.

  “The snowdrift feeds it on its way down the mountain, so it stays rather pleasant and you aren’t washing in muck.” She removes her nightclothes and sinks quickly into the water with a deep sigh.

  I glance nervously at the door and she laughs.

  “It’s okay, Odin will watch the door for us. And either way, the men usually bathe in the evening. If someone happened down here at an off time, they’d turn tail as soon as they heard it was in use - or be trounced if they didn’t,” she assures me.

  I remove my clothing and set it carefully on the nearest bench and slide into the bath as well. It’s absolutely wonderful.

  “They actually abide by that rule? Not barging in on you, I mean. You trust them to honor that?” I ask.

  “Of course,” she says and wrinkles her brow in confusion.

  “Hmm,” I mutter in disbelief and tilt my head back to rinse my hair.

  “They honor it because the alternative would be disrespectful and odious. Dederic doesn’t tolerate that kind of behavior from the men, though I doubt it would cross their minds at all to be so horrid,” Eira insists.

  I shrug in dismissal, acknowledging that she believes her statement, but knowing from experience that men usually have little incentive to abide by rules that do not benefit them.

  “Dederic is some kind of commander here?” I ask, and Eira nods. “What does he do, exactly?”

  “He commands Ruarden’s armies and holds a place on the High Council. Every soldier here answers to Dederic, and Dederic answers only to our king,” she says and tilts her head, watching the emotions play over my face. Eira passes me some floral-smelling soap and we both clean our hair and bodies in silence.

  Another warlord, I think.

  I ran straight from Alderon’s fists into a Dragon’s claws.

  The torch flames surge and flicker wildly as my magic bubbles to the surface, responding to my racing heart.

  “How do you do that?” Eira asks, and I look at her sharply. “The flames. The way you burned through iron with your bare hands.” Her voice is gentle, and she seems so much older than she looks in that moment.

  “How do you turn into a Dragon?” I drift back away from her, towards the opposite side of the water. “It’s just a part of you… for good or bad it’s in your blood.”

  “What else can you do?” she asks quietly.

  I turn my face away and make a show of rinsing my hair and dipping down into the water. When I glance over my shoulder, worry lines her face.

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “That was horribly rude of me. I’m out of practice talking to new people.”

  “No. It’s fine; it’s not exactly a secret between us anymore,” I say.

  “Well it doesn’t need to go any further than this room if you don’t wish.”

  Eira steps from the water and wraps herself in a fluffy towel before handing one to me as well. We sit in companionable silence for a few minutes and work the tangles from our hair, listening to the steady flow of water running down the stone wall.

  “I’m sorry if I seem… ungrateful… for your concern. If I seem angry. It’s-”

  “Seda. I understand. I’m sorry. I know this is nothing you anticipated. But I hope you believe that I wouldn’t have insisted on you coming here if I believed you would be better off by yourself in the human territory.” She takes my hand and offers me a kind smile.

  “I know,” I murmur and squeeze her fingers.

  I know that she believes this was my best option, but I’m not convinced. At least on my own, I stood a chance of outrunning Alderon. Here, I am at the mercy of an enemy I do not kno
w and who could crush me without a second thought.

  I slip into my dress and Eira helps me lace up the back and works a floral-smelling oil through my hair. She picks up our laundry and makes to head for the stairs.

  “I’m going to go check in with Warin before breakfast. Do you want to come up with me or should I come find you in a bit?”

  “I’m going to finish drying my hair. The steam feels nice ̶ it’s soothing,” I say, and she nods.

  “Odin will be waiting at the top of the stairs to help you find your way back and make sure you’re not disturbed. I’ll see you later?”

  “Of course.” I nod and she shoots me one more smile before making her way up the steps.

  I stay in the warm chamber for a long while after she leaves, absorbing the fragrant steam and the steady rhythm of the water. As she assured me, not a single other set of footsteps makes their way down the stairs. I know that I’m being a bit of a coward hiding down here, but I feel out of control and overwhelmed. I’ve woken up in my enemy’s home and I don’t know the players or the rules of the game here. Eira seems genuine and kind and even Dederic was decent towards me - but he still forced my hand in coming here, and I don’t know what that says about his motives.

  I focus on the dripping water and count my heartbeats.

  One. Two. Three. Four.

  Eventually, I feel calm enough to start the steep march back up the stairs and face the yellow-eyed giant waiting for me there. Eira seems to trust him, and I decide that I will give him the benefit of the doubt as well. I round the corner and stop abruptly at the sight of two enormous men in the doorway.

  “Oh. You,” I say and meet a stormy green gaze.

  Dederic’s dark hair is mussed and a hint of stubble is visible along his jaw. Odin remains still and silent blocking the other side of the doorway, and the overwhelming scent of warm, windswept male makes my head swim.

  “Yes. Me,” he murmurs and takes me in fully, scanning my fresh appearance from head to toe.

  My blonde hair is nearly dried and falling loose down my back. The red dress that Eira and I pulled from the trunk is light and gauzy with long sleeves that hang wide at the wrist and a bodice that is fitted through the waist before flaring out to skim over my hips.

  “Have you come to relieve Odin of his sentry duty? Or are you here by coincidence?” I ask, the distaste in my words ringing through the tight space.

  “Neither, unfortunately for you.”

  I glance between Dederic and Odin, who remains silent and watching me from under a dark heavy brow. I hold his yellow stare and work to keep my breathing even and my face impassive as he moves in closer.

  “Your presence has been requested by King Sarvos.” Dederic continues in a low, rumbling voice and the blood drains from my face.

  Their king.

  The one who rules over an entire kingdom of fire-breathing beasts, including the two formidable warriors in front of me – that man has summoned me and will decide my fate here.

  “Why does he want to talk to me?” I ask, and I could swear the hint of a smile flickers over his mouth.

  “If I had to hazard a guess,” he drawls, “I would assume he wants to hear of how you came upon one of our sisters – tortured and chained in a dungeon somewhere. How you managed to free her and deliver her close enough to our territory to be recovered. And how you found yourself a guest in his castle.”

  “You are the one that forced me to come here – I had no intention of ever setting foot in this place,” I hiss, and then he does grin – wide and wicked.

  “Yes, because I decided it was better to keep a potential harbinger of war under my watch, where I could monitor and assess the threat she poses.”

  “That is absolutely absurd, and you know it,” I say, but Dederic merely lifts a scornful brow.

  “Perhaps.”

  I can feel Odin to my left, where he has moved just out of my periphery so that I can go neither forward nor backward without one of them stopping me. Magic crashes and churns through me and I try and calm the fire pulsing in my fingertips, pasting a cool smile on my face.

  “Do I have time to get ready, at least?” I grit out and wave a hand over my appearance. “My hair isn’t done, this dress is far too informal, I haven’t eaten, I’ve barely slept-” My mouth falls shut at the hard, unmoving expression on his face.

  “The king is waiting for you in the throne room ̶ we are expected immediately,” he says.

  Odin reaches out to grip my elbow with a large, calloused hand, and I struggle and flail at the contact.

  “Enough!” Dederic snaps at us.

  Odin removes his hand, and I step quickly out of his reach, smoothing my dress and panting in relief.

  “Follow me,” Dederic growls, holding my gaze with a fiery intensity. “Do. Not. Run,” he warns and strides off down the stone hallway. I set off behind him, and Odin’s heavy boots march steadily a few paces behind me. Gold light filters in through the windows as the sun rises, casting a soft, heavenly glow over everything.

  Dederic doesn’t glance back at all to ensure that I’m still behind him ̶ he knows full well that I wouldn’t get more than three steps before he or Odin would rip me off my feet. He marches us through the great hall and outside into an enormous courtyard filled with lush flowers and plants and beautiful stonework and statues. The walls on either side of me stretch on and on, broken up only by a few jutting towers and three massive outbuildings. On either side of us, snowy mountain peaks jut up above the castle, beautiful and imposing.

  We wind through the courtyard and approach a tall, ornately decorated building made from glinting white stone and smooth steps leading up to a heavy-looking stone door with gold handles. A large window with swirling colored glass takes up most of the front of the tower and two guards in armor stand on either side of the door. They each press a palm over their chest and open the doors as Dederic approaches, leading us into the throne room.

  My steps slow and I swallow nervously as I walk inside. Crowds of soldiers fill the large, open room, and their rumbling conversation dies to quiet as the doors close behind us and we make our way across the glittering white floor. Men with and without armor, of various heights, ages, and coloring - all singularly focused on me as I approach the gold throne at the center of the dais. A frail-looking man with long, wiry gray hair is seated there - a far cry from the giant brute that I expected to be ruling over a castle of Dragon soldiers.

  Dederic approaches the man and kneels before him, murmuring a quiet, respectful greeting before rising and moving to stand up on the dais to the right of the throne. Odin stands beside me and kneels as well, bowing his head low before returning to his feet and backing up a few steps.

  “Welcome to Ruarden, Seda of the Cave City,” King Sarvos greets me in an uneven, creaky voice that snakes out slowly like tails of smoke. His skin, hair and eyes are pale and look sickly against the deep green color of his robes.

  I dip into a low graceful curtsy and do my best to meet his gaze without flinching, wondering how much he knows of our human city.

  “It has been an age since this city has played host to a human in any capacity,” he says. “I understand you have a tale to tell of how you happened to find yourself in this odd situation.”

  My blue eyes flick to Dederic’s and he gives a small lift of his chin.

  “Your Majesty, thank you for allowing me refuge in your city and inviting me to speak before you today. I hope that you can see the truth in my statements and the good intentions of my actions. I don’t wish to remain and cause a disturbance, and I’m sure you will find it a reasonable request that I be returned to where I was found so that I may ensure my own safety.” My voice is quiet and demure with only the smallest tremor of nerves ringing through it. I reserve all annoyance and disdain for the single, brief glance that I shoot at Dederic.

  “Go on then, child. Tell us what happened,” the king instructs.

  “I found Eira injured and imprisoned in a dung
eon,” I say, deciding to be as vague as possible. “I waited until dark, sneaked down to her cell and managed to get her out, then lead her through the city and out into the woods where we took a horse and rode as long and as fast as we could for nearly four days until we were found. I had intended to continue on alone, but I was told by one of your men that I had no choice - I was brought here against my will.”

  Dederic doesn’t react and continues watching me from his spot up on the dais.

  “Have Eira come forward, please,” Sarvos directs.

  The crowd parts and buzzes as Eira comes walking forward to stand at my side. She curtsies low in her halo of a white dress and then meets my eyes with a small, reassuring nod.

  “My dear, can you confirm what our human guest has described?” The king lifts a spindly finger at us and slumps uncomfortably forward in his seat.

  “Yes, Your Majesty. Seda’s account is the truth,” Eira affirms, causing more quiet chatter from the gathered crowd.

  A stocky man standing near the bottom of the dais walks forward before coming to stand less than a foot in front of me. He strokes a hand over a large beard and levels an assessing gaze on me.

  “And how, exactly, did you find yourself in this particular dungeon on this particular night?” His voice is slow and saccharine. “You must understand, it doesn’t seem like a place that any respectable young woman would find herself without a very specific reason…” He trails off and the cold expression he wears rattles me to my bones.

  “I was brought to Eira’s cell so that I could see exactly what kind of end I would meet if I did not behave as I was told,” I say.

  “Are you some kind of criminal?” he asks with a sneer, and I shake my head slowly.

  “Merely a woman with an unfortunate master,” I murmur, and Eira touches my arm lightly. I meet her eyes briefly and a clamor rises from the crowd behind us. The stocky man raises his voice and continues with the interrogation.