Fire Heart: A Dragon Fantasy Romance (The Dragon of Umbra Book 1)

by Emma Hamm

  Like it currently swayed in tune with his heartbeat, and that was going to make him vomit all over the King if he wasn’t careful.

  “I am listening,” he grumbled. “But you might as well say it again. Just to make sure I got it right.”

  The King pursed his lips and looked every inch the disappointed noble. Fine. Abraxas didn’t care.

  After all, they had a strange relationship. The King would not kill him any time soon, and he would not do what the King wanted any time soon. They would both have to suffer in this strange battle for a while longer.

  But it wasn’t fair that the King looked so healthy this morning. They had drank together last night, and Abraxas was certain the man had put away the same amount of alcohol.

  The Umbral King, known as Zander to his closest friends, never had a single hair out of place. His handsome features were perhaps a little too symmetrical, but striking. His sharp jaw and slightly upturned nose were disarming to most women. And the female kind thought the wings of grey hair at each temple were swoon worthy. They frequently fell in front of the King, hoping they would capture his attention.

  They did. Anyone who wanted a night with the King would have one, and they were usually brought to the King’s private rooms by Abraxas himself. But no woman should assume they would be the only woman in the King’s bed that night.

  Today, Zander wore his brightest red suit with gold trim. Why? Abraxas couldn’t remember.

  “We’re going to Tenebrous. Apparently the council there has found more information on the rebellion, and we both need to look the part.” Zander straightened his shoulders and made a face. “Do I look like I’m appropriately disappointed in the people who should protect my kingdom?”

  The narrowed eyes and pursed lips looked more like Zander was trying to woo a woman. Or maybe like he was constipated?

  Abraxas wrinkled his forehead and took a deep, steadying breath. “I’m not sure what you want me to say.”

  “Well, damn it, you’re my personal guard! The only person standing between me and certain death at all times!” Zander threw his hands in the air. “Do I look intimidating or not, man?”

  “Not.” Abraxas normally would have schooled his tone at the very least, but he felt unwell.

  He hated riding in carriages. He needed to be out in the fresh air, otherwise he always got sick like this and he could only blame the King for putting him in this situation.

  Because, yes, he was the King’s right-hand man. Abraxas was the shadow of the King that so many forgot existed, but he was the one who protected their leader. And he would be the man who jumped in front of any sword, ate any poison, and killed any man who tried to touch the ruler of Umbra.

  And yet, he was laid low by the sway of a carriage.

  Groaning, he put his forehead back to the cold glass of the window. “If you want to be intimidating, then at least stop with the fuck me eyes.”

  “I wasn’t looking at you with those eyes.” Zander paused, the silence between them stretching thin until he added, “I didn’t think, at least. Did you feel anything?”

  “I have never and will never. I’m not interested in you like that, Zander. Stop asking.” Even though Abraxas should be flattered, the comment never failed to force a shiver down his spine.

  “You could at least admit it would be a wild night if you would join the ladies and I for an evening.” The soft hush of fabric suggested the King had leaned back on his cushioned seat and crossed his arms over his chest. Like a child.

  Most of the time, Zander was childish. Abraxas had gotten used to the temper tantrums and the hilarious attempts at being more manly than he actually was. Zander had been raised as a boy king who then turned into a man. And that man had never had a single person deny him anything.

  As such, the King had become spoiled. Brattish. Pampered.

  But he still made Abraxas smile sometimes. Sure, most of the time he was laughing at the King rather than with him, but that had to count for something. It wasn’t like Abraxas could get out of this binding contract any time soon.

  The cool glass had already worked some of its magic on his rolling stomach. At least with his eyes shut, he didn’t have to think about how quickly the land moved on the other side of the door. “Why do you want to be intimidating, anyway? The only people you’ll talk to are the Umbral Knights and conversations with them aren’t exactly stimulating.”

  When Zander didn’t respond, he glanced over at the King, who was taking an unbelievable amount of time to straighten his sleeves.

  Still nothing. What was the man doing?

  Abraxas sighed and put his head back on the window. Maybe the conversation was over and he could get some peace while he tried to keep his breakfast in his stomach.

  “I think it’s interesting that you don’t like the Knights.”

  There it was. Like the King had been told his work wasn’t good enough, Zander wanted to know what Abraxas thought of his precious Knights.

  “Putting an entire battalion of soldiers made of smoke in charge of a city isn’t the best idea.” Abraxas swallowed hard, then opened his eyes. “In my opinion, that is. The City of Tenebrous has always been unstable. Too many people here are not fond of your ruling, nor were they fond of your father. They require a firm hand, but not one that is incapable of seeing reason.”

  “The magician who made them confirmed that the Knights were more than capable of seeing reason.” Zander sniffed hard and waved a bejeweled hand at the door. “If you’re only going to insult me, then why don’t you just join us in the city? You can make your own way.”

  Abraxas didn’t want that. He was the only one who kept the King in line on his better days, and if he wasn’t in the carriage with Zander, then the King would likely stop and terrorize some poor family along the way. He didn’t want that to happen.

  For all that he worked for the corrupt king, he still had a bit of a soul left in him. Zander was horrible if he was left to his own devices. It wasn’t like the carriage driver would say no to the King.

  “Zander,” he scolded, keeping his voice and tone low. “You shouldn’t have to make the journey on your own. I understand that I’ve been in a terrible mood, and that’s not the companion you wished to travel with. But I promise you, I’ll get over whatever stomach problem is plaguing me and we’ll work on your intimidating face.”

  Like the child he was, Zander lit up. “You mean it?”

  “I do.”

  “Well, why don’t you show me your intimidating face, then? I can practice by mirroring you.”

  That wasn’t fair. Abraxas was everything that Zander wasn’t.

  Where the King was naturally handsome, Abraxas was terrifying. His raven locks were constantly falling in front of his face, which was too aggressive. The word “sharp” had frequently been used to describe what he looked like. Angular. Jagged.

  His face was too long, his nose too broken, his brow too strong. And it didn’t help that he stood over six and a half feet tall, with broad shoulders that tapered into too lean hips. He didn’t look like he belonged at court, and maybe that was because he didn’t. Nobles were soft things, like feathers. He was a weapon.

  Still, if the King wanted him to make an intimidating expression, then he didn’t have a leg to stand on. He couldn’t deny the King something so simple.

  He bared his teeth in a snarl, brows drawn down and eyes heating with an inner power the King could never have. No matter how many magicians he hired, the King would always be nothing more than a human man.

  “Tsk,” the King muttered, waving his hand at the window again. “Off with you. I have no patience for your antics today.”

  Ah well, at least he tried.

  Abraxas threw the door open and tossed himself out of the carriage. The change rippled through his body almost immediately. Magic caught at the edges of his frame, tearing flesh from bone while making room for scales and leathery wings. Some people had described his transformation as an explosion. The sound c
rackled through the field as the carriage rode past, and then a dragon stepped onto the ground as though he had meant to leap from the carriage.

  He reared up and spread his wings wide, feeling the last lingering effect of sickness disappear. With a great heave, he tossed his head back and let out a roar that thundered through the air.

  Free.

  Like this, he was always free.

  The wind slid along his wings as though the very element had missed him. He had missed feeling it touch the leathery membranes. Lifting an arm, he looked down at his wing to make sure everything was in place. His overly large hands became claws that held out his front wings, and his back legs stretched as though he’d been cramped for too long.

  He hated being in that mortal form. That limiting form. Everyone wanted him to look like that, particularly the King, but he wanted to be free.

  Abraxas was meant to fly through the air and take over kingdoms with the merest breath. He was meant to be feared by all who saw him, and mortals should drop to their knees in worship.

  That wouldn’t happen, of course. No mortal would ever fall to their knees again, even for the last dragon.

  With great beats of his wings, he threw his significant weight into the air. He soared through the sky and into the clouds above. Sure, he still had to watch over the King and the caravan that traveled towards Tenebrous. But now he could see the moors for miles. The whisperpines that gave way into the sodden hills, then the swamp lands surrounding the city. He’d notice if anyone approached the King’s carriage. He saw everything.

  Some thought that a dragon couldn’t see when they were that high in the sky, but it wasn’t true. Their eyes in this form were like those of an eagle. Abraxas noticed every tiny detail on the land below.

  He saw the farmer and his wife, who both ran for cover the moment his shadow darkened their land. He saw the deer that sprinted toward the trees, heard their hearts beating faster as they realized a predator hunted above them. Drool fountained from his mouth and down the large teeth that split his mouth open. He wouldn’t go hunting tonight, not yet at least, but he wouldn’t mind a fresh deer soon.

  He had to focus on keeping the King safe for now, however, and that meant he didn’t have time to sneak a meal. Even though he wanted to.

  The wind whistled over his scales and the City of Tenebrous bloomed before his eyes. First, it was the sight of the swamps. Emerald green pools and grey water filled with dancing will-o'-the-wisps. The scent of decay always came after. Then the city itself, all those hundreds of broken homes, pieced together in layers upon layers of rotting wood in the hopes that the buildings wouldn’t fall over.

  Too many people. Too many smells. Tenebrous was always too much and yet never enough for those who struggled to live there.

  Abraxas pitched his body low, soaring over the tops of the buildings while keeping a watchful eye on the ground. The streets were filled with Umbral Knights, ready to protect their king should anyone be foolish enough to attack the caravan. Abraxas was only there to intimidate if need be. Though rarely was it necessary. Everyone already knew he was here.

  For a heartbeat, he thought he saw someone on a rooftop. A pale figure who laid out on the charcoal shingles, one knee propped up and an arm over her head. But then he blinked, and the vision disappeared. Like he’d imagined it.

  Strange. He’d never been one to hallucinate women, and yet...

  A commotion on the street caught his attention. Abraxas turned away, eyes watching two boys scrabble with each other over a fresh piece of bread that the King had tossed out of his carriage window.

  Sighing, he beat his wings until he rose higher in the air. He’d land just outside the city and join the King in his human form. Tenebrous was too tightly packed for his liking.

  A dragon had no place in a city like this.

  Chapter 3

  Lore

  Lore stood outside the tavern and told herself she could do this. She could walk into an establishment, and it meant nothing. She didn’t have to join the rebellion if she was in the same room as them. Right?

  The problem lay in the fact that the dragon had flown over Tenebrous early this morning.

  Again.

  Two days in a row, he’d been so close to the city that she could have thrown a stone and hit him. That wasn’t a good sign. She could only assume that meant the King was here, probably visiting his horrible creations, and somehow that made this situation all the more terrifying.

  If the Umbral Knights found them, then every single person inside this tavern was dead. They would be dragged out into the town square and beheaded. It didn’t matter if anyone witnessed magic or a creature. Everyone in Tenebrous knew what happened if you got caught.

  Lore clutched the edges of her jacket a little tighter and looked back down the street. She could go home if she wanted to. She could walk right back the way she’d come and dive headfirst into a fresh pile of elfweed. All her thoughts would leak out of her head. No one would ever know she’d stood outside the tavern.

  The door opened, and a couple spilled out. They were both well on their way to drunk, and the man had his arm over the young woman’s shoulders.

  “I love you,” he kept muttering.

  “I love you, too,” she replied. “So much my sweet man, my light, my muse.”

  Yuck.

  But if the two of them could be in the tavern, then the rebellion was actually being sneaky for once. She stared up at the moon and sighed. “Fine,” she muttered. “Fine, let’s do this.”

  She pushed open the door and ignored the bell that jangled over her head. Lore’s senses were assaulted by too much of everything. The room smelled heavily of body odor and beer. Her feet stuck to the floor. Somehow, the air was sticky and wet. Too many people talked all at once until she couldn’t tell who was saying what.

  Peeling posters covered the walls. Most of them were some sort of advertisement for a fix for mortal ailments. She noted the one for fairywater that had a little green woman with brightly colored wings. Someone had written “Fake advert” over her face in bright red paint. Not surprising. Fairywater was more addictive than it was helpful. She’d seen people lose their entire lives over getting another drop of the stuff.

  Sighing, she weaved through the crowd of people who should hide themselves better. The King didn’t like it when magical creatures were overtly easy to see. He hated knowing that there were beings out there who were more powerful than him.

  The Umbral Knights looked for those differences when they walked the streets. Even though they were also made of magic, they could sense when someone was different. Ears. Horns. Strange eyes. All of those were a warning sign to those beasts that they needed to take someone in for questioning.

  Lore rubbed a spot just over her hip where a tiny starburst scar still pained her. The Knights did whatever they wanted when they caught a magical creature of Tenebrous. That was the dangerous part.

  Her feet carried her to the back corner of the tavern where it was quietest. Fewer people congregated in the shadows of this place, but she should have known this was where the rebellion would hide. After all, they thrived in the shadows.

  The group was smaller than she remembered from the days with her mother. Goliath stood with a tankard the size of his head in his hands. He lifted it in her direction, the grin on his face a little too bright. Too excited that she was here. A couple of satyrs stood beside him, elaborate scarves covering the horns atop their heads.

  A deer woman sat with her feet unbound. Lore hadn’t seen a woman with hooves so blatant in such a long time that it almost took her breath away.

  How lovely it was to see a magical creature free like that. Centuries had passed since the time it was safe to show off hooves with a mortal body. And yet, she flaunted what made her different. The feral grin on her face dared anyone to tell her to put her fake shoes back on.

  Lore’s heart swelled with pride at the same time her stomach turned with fear. She forced herself to look b
ack at Goliath, ready to wipe the smile off his face once and for all. “Well? Are you going to get me a drink?”

  “I didn’t actually think you’d come.”

  “Well, you made a good argument. And I suppose it’s all right if I just listen.”

  Another voice interrupted them, threading through the shadows as though a siren called out for her attention. “My dear, my darling, you are not going to just listen. A daughter of Silverfell can’t help herself.”

  Lore froze. She knew that voice. She’d heard that voice a thousand times in her early years, but she hadn’t thought to hear it again. After all, how many rebellion leaders lived more than a couple of years?

  “Margaret,” she murmured. “I’m surprised you’re still alive.”

  “I don’t take risks like the others.” The shadows parted and revealed an elf sitting at the single table in the dark corner. “You know how risks like that usually end up.”

  All too well.

  Lorelei let her eyes feast on the sight of another elf. Margaret was an intimidating woman before she had joined the rebellion, but now she showed the signs of a silent war. Her leather outfit was plastered to her from the top of her shoulders to the bottom of her feet. More black leather straps surrounded her thighs and arms, holding knives to every part of her body. Thirty of them, each sharper than the last.

  But it was her face that made Lore’s heart twist in her chest. Margaret had her white hair bound in a bun at the top of her head, tiny tendrils of curls framing her long, pointed ears. Her skin was darkened by the sun, dusky and deep. Her pale eyes were nearly as white as her hair and saw everything.

  She knew. Of course, Margaret knew how it would affect Lore to see another elf.

  Their kind was all but gone now. They were all fighters in the early days. No one could convince an elf to not draw their bow to protect a loved one. Elves were known for their prowess on the battlefield and so they had fought until the very last of them took a dying breath.