by D. F. Jones
For the briefest of moments, Brunhild thought she saw a man with two ravens on his shoulders, standing off to one side. She blinked, and the figure was gone, but she cursed Odin under her breath, all the same before turning back to the man that she loved.
“Brunhild, I am so sorry,” Sigurd said, rushing over to her. His strong arms enveloped her, and she sagged against his chest.
“It is all right,” she whispered as she listened to the hammering of his heart close to her ear. “You cannot fight the gods without some sort of repercussion. However, we have fought Odin and won.”
She smiled at her words, raising her head to look at Sigurd before leaning into his kiss.
About Rachel Tsoumbakos
Rachel Tsoumbakos has had several articles published through mainstream magazines and currently writes extensively for The Inquisitr as well as being the author of several successful series delving into the feisty women of the Viking age.
Over the years, Rachel has been interested in many aspects of history. When studying a Library Studies diploma, she discovered just how much she enjoyed researching and has since used these skills in several of her novels. However, it was her work with The Inquisitr that brought her into the world of the Vikings and she has spent several years delving into the sagas of this culture as well as the history of the Viking Age.
Rachel lives with her husband, two kids, three cats, and a flock of chickens in the idyllic Yarra Ranges located near Melbourne, Australia. When she isn’t writing, she is working on her cardio as she trains for the zombie apocalypse.
Check out Rachel’s website.
Also by Rachel Tsoumbakos
Vikings: The Truth about Lagertha And Ragnar
Vikings: The Truth about Thora And Ragnar
Vikings: The Trouble with Ubbe’s Mother
Vikings: The Truth about Aslaug and Ragnar
Valkyrie Secrets Box Set: Books 1-3
The Irish Viking Princess
Married Off to the Dragon by Kayla Wolf
Prequel to Dragon Valley Series
Chapter 1
Stephen
There was something strange about saying goodbye to a place you knew better than the back of your hand. Stephen couldn’t help but feel an odd sense of unreality as he wandered the dragon palace where he’d spent the majority of his life. It was his last night here—he kept trying to remind himself of that, but somehow, the truth just wasn’t sinking in yet. It was as though he was a part of the palace, just one more feature standing alongside the ancient marble banisters, the spiral staircases, the ornate statues and paintings that crowded every spare inch of space.
But he wasn’t a piece of furniture, for all that he’d felt like one for a lot of his life. Being the King’s younger brother would do that to you, it seemed. Ever since Albert had taken the throne and allowed their parents to retire, Stephen had felt—well, extraneous. When they’d been young, he and Albert had done everything together. He’d always imagined that he and his older brother would rule together. But then Albert had met Catherine at a ball, and that had been the end of it. They were perfect for each other, and Stephen admired his brother’s mate greatly, but the two of them were such an inviolable power couple that Stephen couldn’t help but feel like a third wheel. King Albert, Queen Catherine … and Stephen.
So he’d retreated into managing the palace’s archives. It was a useful enough job if a quiet one. But he couldn’t help but feel as though he could be making himself more useful. So when Albert and Catherine had come to him a few weeks ago with a proposition, what other choice did he have but to agree? It was the most useful thing he could do for his kingdom, for his people, for his family. Even if the idea of leaving his ancestral home filled him with sadness, it wasn’t nearly as bad as the prospect of facing another attack from their new enemy.
Dragons tended to live in large family groups—their long lifespans meant that these families often consisted of dozens of members. As a matter of practicality, allied families would dwell close to each other, for safety as well as for social reasons, and over the centuries it had become traditional for each small dragon settlement to have a monarch, a leadership that was passed down through the generations of one particularly strong family. Individual settlements all had their own King or Queen (or both)—these monarchs were generally on diplomatic terms with one another and would negotiate issues of territory or hunting grounds peacefully.
But all of those traditions seemed to have been abandoned by the newest threat on the kingdom’s horizon. Clifford wasn’t a monarch—from what Stephen could gather from isolated reports from other kingdoms; he’d simply taken leadership of his dragons by force. And instead of cordially negotiating territorial boundaries with his surrounding kingdoms, Clifford had gone to war with ruthless efficiency. There were reports of entire kingdoms being wiped out, dozens of dragons killed or wounded, their ancestral homes taken from them. It seemed Clifford offered a choice—join his forces or lose everything. And an alarming number of dragons were taking the former option.
The only way to protect themselves was to join forces with surrounding kingdoms that, like them, were unwilling to submit to Clifford. And what better way than to secure an alliance with a joining of two royal family members?
Stephen had heard of Reagan, of course—the fierce young queen of a neighboring settlement, a group of dragon families who lived in a valley high in the mountains, in caves they’d carved with their claws from the living rock. But he’d been completely shocked when his brother had come to him and told him that the Elders of both communities had come together to discuss a lasting alliance and agreed that, providing they were amenable, Stephen and Reagan would be joined as mates to secure that alliance.
“And she said yes?” Stephen had said dumbly, thinking of the stories he’d heard of the golden-eyed dragoness from the mountain’s peak. “Does she even know who I am?”
“Don’t sell yourself short, Stephen. You’re a prince, after all,” Albert had said, that familiar smile on his face. Albert had come into the archives to speak to him—that meant they were both in their human shapes. Communicating in dragon form was more direct, a kind of telepathic contact that allowed rapid and simple transmission of information. But Stephen appreciated the space and distance of his human form for a conversation like this one. “We don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do. But—”
But it was a life or death situation, wasn’t it? So Stephen had buried his reservations and agreed. The look of relief on Albert’s face told him that he’d made the right decision. But now, wandering his ancestral home for the last time, thinking about what the future held—well, he couldn’t help but feel apprehensive. Dragons lived long, long lives, and they were profoundly resistant to change. But what choice did he have? Reagan’s kingdom was powerful. Together, they’d be able to protect each other from Clifford’s forces if it came down to it. He had to do this for the safety of his family and of the people he had always sworn to protect.
But he couldn’t help but feel a little cheated. Albert had known the minute he laid eyes on Catherine that she was his soulmate, and Stephen had always nursed the hope that the same thing would happen for him someday. Instead, he was entering into what was effectively a business arrangement with a woman he’d never met. Not exactly a love story.
But his family and his people were in danger. And if this was what he had to do to keep them safe, so be it.
Chapter 2
Reagan
“And the defenses at the north end of the valley?”
“Guards posted around the clock, as instructed.”
“How long are the shifts? I don’t want anyone falling asleep.”
“Four hours each.” William’s green eyes gleamed with amusement. “As instructed, Your Majesty.”
“Oh, you know I hate that,” Reagan said irritably. “Kings and Queens and all that nonsense. I’m just in charge, that’s all. For my sins,” she added, frowning a little as s
he gazed out across the valley. Her chambers had a window that overlooked the majority of their territory—it was why she’d chosen them and why she insisted on doing her work here. It reminded her of what was at stake—of the lands she was protecting and the people who were counting on her. And in these times of war, that reminder was more important than ever.
“You’re doing fine,” William said. The green-eyed dragon was her closest adviser. They’d had some tension in the early days, of course—he’d felt that he was a better choice of a monarch than she was—but to her relief, he’d accepted the verdict of the Elders that had put Reagan on the throne. And she was grateful to have his assistance. Ruling alone—it took a lot out of a person. So many of the other Kings and Queens she’d met had soulmates to rule at their side. But that had never happened for Reagan. She was beginning to suspect she was allergic to love.
Well, fine. She had plenty to be getting on with without the distraction of romance. Like the dark force to the north that, by all accounts, was preparing itself to try to take her queendom by force. And the measures they’d needed to take to ensure their safety.
Reagan sighed. “Guess we should talk about the last item.”
“Ah, yes. The—“ William hesitated. “Ceremony. Are you sure about this, Reagan?”
“I’m sure,” Reagan said simply. This was part of being queen, too—lying to your subjects. She wasn’t sure at all about the prospect of being joined to someone she’d never met. But she was hardly going to tell William that, was she? And sow seeds of doubt in the settlement’s new king? “I’ve done my due diligence, William. He’s a good soul, and his brother’s a good King. Would I prefer to rule alongside my soulmate? Well, certainly. I’d also prefer Clifford to spontaneously decide to settle down and stop trying to take over the continent by force.” She shrugged. “You can’t always get exactly what you want. And what I need—what we need—is a partner who will rule alongside me and an alliance that will keep us safe. That’s Stephen.”
“You’re right, of course.”
“Of course,” she said archly. “Queens are always right.”
“He arrives tomorrow,” William said, turning to the agenda on the table. “With a retinue of guards.”
“Good. They can take a few guard shifts.”
“And the ceremony is scheduled for the day after. These shapes?” William asked, gesturing a little stiffly downwards. It was no secret that the green-eyed dragon and his family didn’t much care for their human forms. Though dragons had always had the ability to shift into human shapes, many were much fonder of their true shapes—the shapes with wings and talons. The settlement had largely been crafted with these shapes in mind, with the human-sized dwellings as an afterthought. But as their numbers grew, it made a lot more sense to spend more time in the smaller bodies.
“These shapes,” Reagan confirmed, her golden eyes twinkling. “Otherwise, how will I show off my gown?”
William sighed. “As you command, my Queen.”
“The ceremony. What will it involve?” She hesitated. “Every ceremony I’ve been to—well, it’s been in honor of a soulmate bond, not—” she shrugged, “a political alliance, I suppose.”
William nodded. “The Elders of both kingdoms have organized everything. They assure me that neither of you will be made uncomfortable. A simple declaration of lasting allegiance, trust, and mutual assistance.”
“More about the political union than the personal one, then,” Reagan said, smiling a little. “Of course.”
William tilted his head. “Reagan—”
“No, it’s good. It’s a business arrangement, that’s all. I’m looking forward to meeting him,” she said briskly, rising to her feet to hide her discomfiture. “I’m sure he and I will get along well. He’s an archivist, you know. I’m sure he’ll have a ball with ours. Hope he likes dust,” she added, and she saw William hiding a grin.
“Our records could do with a little care,” he admitted. “But that might have to be a question for peace time.”
Reagan sighed. “Ah, yes. How foolish of me to forget for nine seconds that there’s an enemy at the gates. One of these days, William,” she said, shaking her head. “One of these days, we’re going to have a quiet patch.”
“And neither of us are going to know what to do with ourselves,” William said dryly.
She laughed. “Too true. Now, shouldn’t you be getting back to your mate? I’ve heard she’s got a suit for you to try on for the ceremony.”
William groaned. “Duty calls, I suppose. Good afternoon, Queen Reagan.” And with a little bow (one day, she’d get him to stop doing that, she thought irritably), he was gone, leaving her to her thoughts. Not the best company at the moment, she thought, gazing out over the valley again with a sense of unease prickling at her stomach. She knew this union was what was best for her family and for her kingdom.
But was it what was best for her?
Chapter 3
Stephen
It was a fine, clear day—perfect for a long flight. Stephen could almost forget that he was flying away from his home for the last time ever, that he was en route to a totally new home, a new life, a new partner whom he still hadn’t met—there was an uncomfortable feeling prickling in his stomach that even the cool air on his scales or the sun on his wings wasn’t able to dispel. They flew higher and higher into the mountains, the air growing thinner as they reached what had to have been one of the highest and most inaccessible points of the Rocky Mountains. His practiced eye scanned the valley, noticed the posted guards in discreet locations—it was a good valley, easily defended, though he could see a weak point or two that could do with shoring up. Well, that was the idea, wasn’t it? The reason for the alliance. Safety, for both of their families.
An emissary came out to meet them, guiding them down to a long, flat section of rock that had been warmed by the sun. To Stephen’s surprise, the emissary changed forms as they landed—and he realized that the doorway into the rock was human-sized. A good defensive tactic, he thought approvingly as he shifted, his clothes shifting with him as usual. Any invaders would have to attack in their more vulnerable human bodies if they intended to come through this way. Still, the prospect of meeting his new partner in his human form intensified the uneasy feeling in his gut. He wasn’t as comfortable in this shape as he could have been. There was a kind of security in wings and talons.
Still, he was a prince, and he intended to look the part. He lifted his chin, straightened his spine, trying to channel a little of his brother’s kingly disposition as he and his retinue of guards followed the emissary through the twisting rocky hallways of the palace. He could see the claw marks on the walls where these passageways had been carved and smiled to himself. Even in their human shapes, dragons were never too far from their wild sides.
The emissary sketched a low bow as they reached a doorway, then disappeared down the corridor. The meaning was clear—they’d reached Queen Reagan’s chambers. This was it. Taking a deep, steadying breath, Stephen stepped up to the door and rapped on it sharply with his knuckles.
And he felt his heart leap into his mouth as the door swung wide open.
Why, the woman standing there couldn’t be real, he thought dazedly as a pair of bright golden eyes fell onto his face. Deep, burnished gold, lit up from within as though the sun was falling on them—he felt frozen, rooted to the spot, his chest full of warmth as though those eyes were filling him from the crown to the toes with warm sunlight. She had jet black hair that set off her olive skin beautifully—it fell to her shoulders and moved like liquid as she turned her head. High cheekbones, a strong, proud jawline, and the willowy but powerful figure of a warrior.
“You must be Stephen,” she said, and her voice almost knocked him over. Low, mellifluous—but such a strength to it, too. The kind of voice that issued commands, that tolerated no disagreement. The voice of a Queen.
He could hear himself speaking, but it was as though he was in another world. Thank G
od his parents had drilled him and his brother so strictly in etiquette, in airs and graces—he could hear himself smoothly introducing himself and his guards, performing the niceties he’d been instructed in, but it was all but drowned out by the roaring of his heart, the roaring of his dragon. This creature before him couldn’t be real—this was some kind of joke. He was to be joined with this woman? He was to spend the rest of his life ruling at her side?
How could he do that when he could barely breathe when he looked at her?
“My advisor William has organized accommodations in the palace for you all,” Reagan was saying, those golden eyes dancing over his guards. “You’ll be shown to your quarters shortly—please let someone know if we can do anything to help you settle in. Stephen—” his name sounded like music in her mouth, he thought in a daze—“your quarters are next door to mine.”
“Thank you,” he said, a little surprised. He’d assumed they’d be sharing quarters, the way Albert and Catherine did. But then again, he remembered with an odd pang of regret, he and Reagan weren’t mates, were they? Simply partners. Partners who were pledged to one another, partners who would rule together for as long as they lived—but at the end of the day, they’d be returning to their quarters alone.
Why did that prospect disappoint him? Hadn’t he only just been regretting the loss of privacy that sharing quarters would entail?
“The ceremony will be tomorrow,” Reagan told him as they parted ways. “I’m sure we’ll have much to discuss afterward.”
