Burn

  The slobbering wolves heeded the ferocious cry and separated. Nostrils flared as they stuck their muzzles in the air and sniffed. Growling and snapping at each other’s sides, they lowered their heads and prowled closer.

  Gaze pinging between them, Marina hefted her spear. Unsure which was alpha she hesitated in picking a target.

  Howling, the wolves drew further apart and their streaking forms accelerated into dark grey blurs.

  Still undecided, breathless with indecision, she pulled back to angle her weapon.

  The smaller wolf crouched, snarled, and lunged, sealing its fate.

  Marina flung the spear, grunting when her side cramped.

  The projectile found its mark. Shattered. Steel pierced the wolf’s furred chest and it dropped mid spring to land solid on its side. Claws scratched the dirt as it howled a death rattle.

  The dragoness pounced. She clamped her fangs around the wolf’s neck and with a rough jerk snapped it. She spat gristle and snarled.

  Answering cries of congratulations swelled from the crowd above.

  The alpha wolf growled. Pack decimated, he was the last standing. He sensed his demise and with nothing to lose turned rabid. Frothing at the mouth, he paced erratically snapping at the dragoness’ underbelly.

  Jumping aside to miss impalement on hooked talons, he hunkered down. The rigid tension in his body gave away his next move.

  The wolf leapt.

  Twisting, Marina swung the shield from across her back to protect her front. Fangs headed for her throat were useless as the beast’s head butted the shield, a hammered round of metal forged in the dragonfire of a Phoenix.

  Flailing claws dug cruelly into her flesh, drenching the ground in blood as he slid from sight in a daze.

  Screeching in pain, Marina let go of the scales anchoring her. She toppled off the dragoness as she tried to stop the gushing slashes on her thigh.

  Her head rebounded off the uneven soil. Stars exploded behind her eyelids. She landed mostly on her tattered side and pain lanced her leg, the salted earth stinging the gouges.

  Using her good hand, she lifted the shield to guard her vulnerable torso.

  Disillusioned, scared out of her wits, she wanted to curl up and cry.

  The otherness was disgusted. It bashed at the walls of her mind. Do not lie here waiting to die. Get up. Let me out, or get up. Her ears were ringing as it roared and hissed in its effort to take her over.

  Gritting her teeth, scared when she tasted blood on her tongue, terrified when the otherness went predator-still in anticipation, Marina hobbled. Hopping on her good leg she kept the other bent at the knee.

  The wolf shook off its haze. It rolled about on its back then twisted into its front, but remained low on its belly as it panted and sniffed.

  Fresh blood marked her, and he howled his thirst for it as he charged.

  Marina distantly heard someone bellow her name.

  Feet planted shoulder-width-apart, Marina eased her balance onto her back leg. Warm blood oozed down her front foot. She ignored it.

  Timing was everything.

  She twisted at the middle when the wolf lunged.

  Shrieking her fury, she threw her whole body into the motion of a swing.

  The shield smashed into the side of the wolf’s head. The connection jarred Marina’s arms and broke two fingers when the leather strap jerked hard trying to escape her grasp.

  Trajectory altered, the wolf sailed past, curled up, and crumpled under the blow.

  Dragging her numb leg behind her, Marina steeled herself. She gazed stonily at the dusty heap with something else looking out through her eyes.

  The otherness purred.

  Kill it, or it kills you.

  She used the animal’s injured bewilderment to perch the blunt edge of the shield on the crown of its head. Her arms lifted high then fell hard. Crunch. She bludgeoned the wolf until it convulsed then stopped moving altogether.

  Awkwardly turning in a slow circle, she glared at the corpses littering the arena. Darkness crept along the edges of her vision.

  Still, she relaxed. Nothing else tried to kill her.

  Marina spun to the crowd that openly mocked her. Lifting the arm that did not feel afire, she ignored the pain and stuck up a crooked middle finger, shrieking a warrior cry, because she was so pissed at them.

  The shocked silence of the arena resounded deeply.

  Her yell carried until she had gasped hollowly and coughed. Her voice echoed richly off the rocky open-roofed amphitheatre.

  The dragoness backed the wail of victory with a roar.

  The crowd surged screaming back, chanting her name, and crying out for her. The noise was deafening. It battered the arena walls.

  “Oh, so now you love me. Fickle bastards.”

  Spent adrenaline left Marina shaky. Mouth dry, her stomach rolled queasily. She slumped as the strength left her in a rush.

  The dented shield clattered to the floor.

  Groaning, she clutched where her hip met thigh. She used the other to gingerly touch the lacerations scored into her flesh. Blood flowed thick through her fingers. What had her swaying feebly was the colour. She stared at her fingertips as the blood darkened to burgundy.

  “How can I have blue blood? Ugh. I’m going to faint.”

  She laughed weakly as the world blurred. The tension eased from her muscles and the ground rushed up to meet her.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Koen Raad was a dangerous male. Dragon King of the twelfth dynasty, he ruled his domain with an open hand ever ready to clench into an iron fist.

  A wild aura gave the breadth of his shoulders and the lean muscle defining his body a disquieting edge of animal menace. To stand within his shadow was to know the truth. A beast lurked too close to the surface. It peered from behind emerald green eyes, terrified all who glimpsed its dark hunger. The barest sheen of civility cloaked his true nature.

  Koen Raad was a predator surrounded by hapless prey.

  Yet he watched in a heart-stopping haze of fury as his Treasure jogged from the bowels of the Red Citadel. She faced a pack of ice wolves wearing nothing but leather moulded to her torso. A helm covered her head and her weapon was of the finest craftsmanship, his, but he was outraged her tender flesh was so badly protected.

  He spun, and encountered a bundle of repressed emotion crouched on the seat beside him.

  Furious protest died on his lips. He wasn’t the only one who suffered.

  Boy was pale. His lips were white with strain, yet the fire banked within his gaze spoke of an unwavering confidence in his adoptive mother.

  The adolescent appeared more a princeling each day.

  Koen swept a glance over his richly stitched tunic, black leathers, and knee-high boots.

  Marina still had not shorn the fat spirals tumbling around his too beautiful face. His Treasure admitted adoring the curls far too much to cut.

  Boy smirked when he noticed his King eyeing them with contempt. He would never cut them knowing his Marina loved them so.

  The youngling was too pretty by far. The hair just made it worse.

  A battle scar or two should fix that, Koen thought, deciding to singe the hair from Boy’s head the next time he caught the youngling alone while in dragonskin.

  Despite her obsession with his gold locks, Marina had done well with Boy. There was a scruffy edge to his manner and a roughness to his speech ever naming him as base born, but Koen knew Marina cared less for Boy’s slave origins than she did for what the other Houses thought of her for making him their offspring.

  Goddess knew what they would say if they knew the youngling began his life slitting throats his masters placed under his blade. That he had once snuck into the High Princess’ room with the intent of spilling her blood.

  There were moments of rage when Koen thought of what this youngling – now his offspring – had almost done to his beloved. As much anger as he felt it was always followed by mind-numbing pride that was fatherly and pure. r />
  During the assassination attempt Boy had hesitated, knowing his own miserable life was forfeit the moment he did. He’d shown himself to be great of character and heart.

  Each day since Koen had yet to feel shame in the youngling he already treated as his offspring.

  Marina may have chosen him alone, but they would raise him together as a Warrior Prince to be feared by Dragon Lord and Battle Mage alike.

  The thought made him protective, keen to somehow convey that to the youngling.

  Meeting Boy’s eye with what he hoped was encouragement he clapped him on the shoulder. “She will prevail.” His voice was roughed by the Dragon’s growl.

  Boy flinched at first contact. He gradually relaxed under the heavy weight of Koen’s palm. “I am not afraid. She would never leave us.”

  Nodding in agreement, Pasha perched on a stool behind the youngling.

  It was unusual for a woman of her standing to have as much power and influence over nobles of such high station, but Marina treated the older woman has an honorary mother figure.

  Pasha valiantly took up the reigns the Princess tossed her way with reverent aplomb.

  Her lined face stretched tight in an expression of forced calm when she realised he watched her. Offering him a fleeting smile she remained unable to hold his gaze as an equal.

  She patted Boy’s shoulder comfortingly.

  “Where is Daniil?” Koen demanded not caring who answered.

  “Shouting at the stewards below.” Boy’s gangly legs shifted so he sat properly after Pasha poked the back of his head. He scowled at his scuffed boots. “They lost Marina’s armour. Daniil swears vengeance on those responsible.”

  Anger surged. “He let her enter the quest unprotected.”

  Boy’s eyes flashed to his then flitted away. “Does anybody let Marina do anything?”

  Eyes narrowing, Koen grunted.

  Marina’s trophy was chained to the middle of the battlefield. It was a petite female with vivid purple scales. The creature whimpered and tossed her slender neck.

  Straining over the stone railings the burgeoning assembly filling the arena ceased their disrespectful taunts and gasped.

  Marina made a brave dash from the crevice and bolted into the open arena.

  Koen’s clenched hands tightened until they turned white.

  She looked afraid, and appeared to have no plan until she made a decisive turn and lithely scaled cropping of rock. She made her first kill. The crowd applauded. Her decent from the high ground was graceless, but efficient for now she stood closer to her prize. The wolves surrounded her. Outnumbered, she widened her stance and tensed.

  Koen felt his energy quicken as his Dragon prepared to save her when her spear erupted into blue flame.

  He came to a complete stop.

  Mute with shock, he only stirred when a familiar presence at his back roused him.

  “You taught her magick?” he demanded gruffly of Dragon Lord Daniil of House Kol. His Second and honorary brother leaned heavily on the back of his throne.

  Koen’s fisted hand covered his whitened lips when Daniil’s bewildered expression spoke for itself.

  Marina’s circumstances improved. Her stances were simple, but solid, and her movement sure. Koen gripped the edges of his throne when mounted upon the rearing dragoness Marina threw her spear.

  Pride swelled within his chest. His Treasure’s aim was deadly.

  Daniil’s cry of despair as the last wolf dug its claws into Marina’s leg echoed in his brain.

  Koen wrenched composure from the bottom of his soul to stop himself shifting when the coppery tang of her blood misted the air. It had a strange tang to it he recognised but couldn’t name.

  He searched his memory for why the elusive scent was so familiar yet wrong.

  The errant thought was lost to her pained scream.

  The wolf shook off the blow from her shield, but she was down, her body exposed to a killing strike from the beast’s jaws.

  “Run.” Koen lurched onto his feet. His fist slammed into the rock as he leaned over the balustrade. “Marina, Treasure, run.”

  Marina rammed her shield into the wolf’s head, again, and again. Her chest rose and fell with each crushing blow.

  Unlike those surrounding him who flinched at the brutality, Koen Raad derived feral satisfaction from each wet crunch.

  The crowd went silent then uplifted in a roar of approval that shook the world when she threw down her shield and shrieked at them.

  “Is she–” Pasha stared at her High Princess in horror. “Is she screaming eat me?”

  Boy hopped back into a crouch on his padded seat. His eyes brightened with glee. “Yes, and to a crowd of shape shifting Dragon Lords who could actually eat her.”

  Pasha made a choked noise of outrage.

  The servants behind them snickered. They fell silent when the older woman turned a lethal matronly glare upon them.

  Entering the royal viewing box, Nikolai chuckled and nudged Koen’s shoulder, eyebrows wagging. “Eat her? I should very much like to–Ugnuh!”

  Gritting his teeth, Koen looked at his hand wrapped around his brother’s throat.

  The younger Dragon Lord was turning blue.

  Huffing, he reminded himself he might feel regret for killing his younger brother after the fact.

  Might.

  He released a wailing Nikolai and shoved, sending him sprawling, only for a bevy for longhaired maids to flutter to his side cooing.

  Stumped, Daniil looked around in confusion as he checked the younger Raad for permanent damage then herded his chattering posse out with assurances he’d survive.

  “How did these females even get in here?” he asked the door guard frantically, peeling a groping woman off his chest and thrusting her into the sheepish guard’s willing arms.

  Pasha stomped her slippered foot. She still eyeballed Marina. “Goddess help us with that mouth.”

  “Be easy, Pasha.” Returning, Daniil patted her hand. “Marina does not mean it the way you think. In her dimension I believe it is an insult.” After a lengthy pause where he remembered the mouthy Princess’ tendency to yell then think, he flushed. “At least I hope it is. The human dimension is a confusing place.”

  “Must I remind you this is her dimension?” Mikhail’s booming voice preceded him.

  Council Mon Mikhail of Imperial House Zar took the deferential bows and female sighs of appreciation as his kingly due. Time only just began to touch his face. Since the arrival of his offspring, years of aging had shed from his countenance.

  Head held high, his dark eyes twinkled, piercing eyes that looked straight into the soul.

  They reminded Koen of his Treasure’s stark gaze in a way that made him uncomfortable.

  Mikhail’s heir had completed the first quest in Aver. He accepted the congratulations from the neighbouring boxes with an incline of the head.

  The older Phoenix had reason to celebrate the victory. He could have as easily been burying her, just as easily been helping the Dragon King tear the walls down around them in a rage of grief.

  “Tzion is her home,” Mikhail finished and bestowed a fond smile on his cheering grandson.

  Koen agreed.

  He prepared to voice this, but lurched to grab onto the scruff of Boy’s tunic. He leaned over the stone railing, hanging like a ruffian from the royal booth. He stuck up his middle finger much the way Marina had to a group of chattering younglings below.

  “Told you,” he yelled in outrage as Koen dragged him back over. “I told she would survive.” The youngling almost wrenched himself free to shout, “Suck it, blackguards,” before being hauled from sight.

  Pasha grabbed his finger in her wrinkled fist. “Hush. Where did you learn such foul language?”

  Feet dangling, Boy struggled. Chagrined, knowing he was bested, he shrugged at Pasha’s question because it was obvious.

  Trumpeting horns blasted through the noise of the buzzing crowds.

  Below th
em, Marina wavered on her feet. Her eyes roamed for a new threat.

  A smile of relief barely graced Koen’s face before his whole world crashed into nothingness.

  The life seemed to flow from Marina’s limbs like the blood that dripped from her thigh.

  She collapsed.

  Dropping his offspring, Koen spun like a coiled snake, hissed as threateningly as the venomous reptile when bodies blocked his path. “Move. I must go to her.”

  “Our Houses care for her.” Daniil bravely stood his ground when others scattered. He pointed. “Look.”

  As he spoke the servants of Houses Kol, Raad and Zar ran from the bowls of the fortress. They argued amongst themselves before two males separated from the squabbling fray.

  With the utmost care, they lifted Marina off the ground and carried her limp body from the unforgiving eyes of the spectators.

  The remaining men were lesser Lords, and tended to the wild dragoness who took no injury during the quest.

  A considerable feat since the other First Chosen’s prizes were still being healed.

  She tried to follow Marina, and became aggravated when they blocked her path. The wild Dragon would be returned to the jungles and set free.

  Marina earned that fate for the creature with blood.

  With a flick of the wrist, Daniil motioned the others to leave them.

  Tension flowed from Koen’s frame yet his anger refused to abate. Perilous emotion simmered in his eyes. “She did it.”

  “You doubted?”

  “I doubt everything.”

  “Truer words have never been spoken.”

  Koen studied his Second. Reluctantly gave a little. “I trust you. With my life and hers.”

  “You honour me.”

  “Sarcastic bastard.”

  Daniil fought a grin. Satisfied Koen wasn’t going to tear the amphitheatre down, he hooked an arm around his friend’s shoulders. He knew better than any, whilst Koen Raad’s bite was much worse than his bark, he preferred to do the latter unless pushed beyond reason.

  “She can do this. I would not have let her past the gate if I did not think she had the best of chances.”

  “I know this.” Koen rapped the balustrade with his knuckles. Stone chipped away at the deceptively controlled movement. “I must see her. Hold her. Watch her chest rise and fall with life’s breath. My Dragon will not be calm until then.”