Queen of the Dragons

  It was huge—almost as big as the main hall inside of Withrae Castle. Where is differed was in furnishings. The Red Dragon’s cavern was empty.

  There was literally nothing there. Smooth stone, rocks, jagged walls.

  Her shoulders slumped. It was not at all what she expected. As she looked around, she wondered just what she did expect.

  Treasure, perhaps. Lots of it.

  “Rest. You’ll be able to remember more once your body recovers from what I can only assume was your first shift by the way you were flying today,” the Red Dragon said as he moved toward the back of the cave and curled onto the floor.

  “Was I that bad?” Rowen asked under her breath.

  He let out a single laugh. “Terrible,” he replied. “But, you’ll get better. With time.”

  Within seconds, his eyes closed, and soft snores vibrated and echoed along the walls. As the storm raged on outside, Rowen was unsure of what to do. Did the Red Dragon not shift into a man? Was this how he lived—in his Dragon form at all times?

  She never heard of such a thing…not outside of her history texts. She watched him sleep and wondered to herself just how old he was.

  A loud bang came from the sky and made her jump. The blast reached the ground just outside the mouth of the cave. They were way too close to the war that raged in the sky between thunder and lightning—closer than she’d ever been to the actual makings of a storm. She’d never been that high in the sky before. It was frightening.

  She ran to one of the walls where there was a small nook that was just big enough for her to fit in. She curled up inside. It was hard but cozy, and she felt safer in there than outside in the center of the cave. Exhaustion took over, and before she could recount the events of the day, she began to doze.

  Sleep didn’t come. The thunder grew incessantly louder, and the air colder. With a groan, she sat up and looked down at herself. Her clothes were soaked. There was no way she could sleep in such a state.

  Rowen glanced around the side of the nook to the Red Dragon. His sleeping body took up much of the cavern, and he didn’t appear to be near waking anytime soon.

  She quietly left her spot and rubbed her clammy arms. There had to be something for her to cover herself with, or else she’d die of exposure. What fun that would be.

  She searched the cavern, hoping to find some sticks or anything to start a fire. Rocks and pebbles were the Red Dragon’s treasure it seemed, for there was an abundance of that. While she searched her surroundings, her mind also searched for her memories. How did she get into this mess?

  At that moment, Rowen visualized herself in a room with the other ladies-in-waiting doing crewel work under Macana’s watchful eye. She’d give anything to be back at the palace, and not in that cavern with a giant Dragon whom she knew nothing about.

  She stopped and pressed her back to the wall, clutching her chest. Lawson’s face returned to her.

  Yes, she remembered him, but why him out of everything.

  The most painful of memories seemed to be all she could muster. So, she shoved him image back into the dark crevices of her mind and pressed on with her quest for clothing and bedding.

  This might very well be her new life. The life of a Dragon’s pet.

  Or meal.

  She wasn’t sure which one she was destined for quite yet.

  Something shiny caught her eye in the darkness at the far right end of the cavern. There was also a small ray of light there, beckoning to her.

  She listened for the Dragon’s snores and mustered the courage to cross the wide open space from one side of the cavern to the other. She scampered over to the light as quietly as possible.

  Her eyes widened as she beheld a chest.

  Treasure.

  She touched the cold surface of the silver chest, and ran her finger along the engravings and raised surface of diamonds and precious stones.

  She knew it. All Dragons loved their treasure.

  She licked her lips as the desire for a quick look took over her usual calculated nature. The Red Dragon was asleep. He surely wouldn’t notice.

  Holding her breath, she quietly pushed the lid open. It didn’t budge.

  Sighing, she tapped her mouth with her finger as she thought. Of course, it couldn’t be that easy. There had to be a lock or latch of some sort, so she began searching for one.

  What she did find was a series of engravings that looked familiar, though she wasn’t sure if it was from memory or something more innate. She chewed her bottom lip as she tried to make out what they said and sighed again. It was too dark to see them clearly.

  Light. She needed more light.

  Rowen looked toward the back of the Red Dragon and then to her hands. She knew she could summon a light small enough to let her read the markings, but not too big to awaken the sleeping Dragon.

  Inhaling, she calmed her mind and focused on the task at hand. Her body warmed, and her skin grew tight. Magic burned and raced through her veins and within the deep depths of her belly. It was intoxicating, and still so new that she almost couldn’t resist making a fire so big and so beautiful that all of the world would see it. She gripped the treasure chest and tried to restrain the force of magic that threatened to shoot out too quickly, too forcibly.

  Just a little bit, that’s all she needed.

  She blew onto her hand and opened her eyes. There is was, a single red flame that wavered and danced above her palm.

  A smile spread across her face. She did it. Her magic was real.

  She held the flame close to the engravings. Yes, they were quite familiar. She was sure she’d seen them before, but still could not remember how. Or why.

  After closer inspection, she saw something at the bottom of the chest. Her heart soared. A button. She pushed it and heard a loud click.

  Too loud.

  She cringed and risked another look at the Red Dragon.

  Holding her breath, she listened to his. They were steady, calm. He was in a deep sleep. Perhaps his breaths were loud enough to drown out whatever she was doing.

  She held the flame in one hand, and used her other to push the lid open with all of her strength. It creaked, and groaned, as if it hadn’t been opened in quite some time.

  “What’s this?” Rowen whispered as she peered down at its contents. A frown came to her face when she saw nothing inside but an old dress.

  She pulled it out and held it before her. The high neckline and intricate beading was unlike any style she’d seen in Withrae in all of her lifetime. White lace and silver trim. It was old, ancient even.

  How long had that dress been there?

  A swift wind swept in and blew out her flame.

  She sucked her teeth and turned around.

  “What are you doing?” The Red Dragon asked.

  Rowen gasped and dropped the dress back into the chest. Her heart raced as she looked up at him. She no longer needed the light from her flame, for his eyes burned a bright golden color that made the entire cavern glow.

  He didn’t look happy. He looked enraged. Smoke came from his flared nostrils.

  Backing away, Rowen swallowed and tried to think of a reply. All the while, as she took a step backward, he took one forward.

  “You meddlesome girl. Answer me!” His roar blew her back.

  Rowen scrambled to her feet and did what she knew best.

  She ran as quickly as her feet would take her.

  Chapter 5

  Her scream echoed along the walls as she realized that the Red Dragon was right on her heels and faster than her. Why did she have to snoop?

  She closed her eyes as she pumped her arms for speed.

  Shift, Rowen. Shift!

  She couldn’t. Her body would not listen, and before she was even halfway toward the exit, the Red Dragon knocked her down and sent her sliding across the floor. She shrieked as his large foot came down and caged her in, his talons serving as bars as they dug into the ground around her.

  “Answer me, child!”


  Rowen shoved her hair from her face and looked up at him with pleading eyes. “I wasn’t doing anything,” she shouted. “I only took a look! No harm done, right?”

  “Why? Who told you to touch my things?”

  She shook her head. “I’m soaking wet! Cold! I needed something to keep me warm. I meant no harm.”

  He leaned down until he was only inches from her face. “Do not touch my things. Do you understand?”

  “Of course,” she said, nodding. “I assure you. I just assumed I’d be here awhile and I was cold. Nothing more.”

  A puff of smoke escaped his nostrils, and the brightness of his eyes lost their intensity. He lowered his voice. “Who sent you?”

  “No one,” Rowen said. “You snatched me up. Remember?”

  “Yes, but you did something to summon me. How? Why?”

  Rowen tried to think back, but nothing of note revealed itself. This loss of memory was becoming a nuisance.

  “I don’t know,” Rowen said in a soft voice. “I wish I could remember.”

  “That chest hasn’t been touched in centuries. My beloved White Dragon was the last to touch it the day she left and promised to return.”

  “White Dragon?”

  Rowen couldn’t recall a White Dragon in all of Draconian history. Was it because it didn’t exist in all of her studies, or was it her amnesia? She wasn’t sure, but the thought of a beautiful White Dragon intrigued her.

  “Yes,” he said, almost calmly. “My beloved.”

  Sensing her chance to become more than his eventual dinner, she decided to try to bond. She knew from experience that it was harder to kill a creature you’ve come to care for. If only her memories would extend beyond her childhood back at her manor in Harrow where she secretly helped the gamekeeper feed the animals and tend to the horses.

  “Please, tell me about her.”

  He peered down at her, as if contemplative. As he began to raise his foot from her body, something shot into the cavern and knocked the Red Dragon aside.

  The Red Dragon roared, spouting fire from his mouth that warmed the entire room.

  Rowen gasped and came to her feet.

  Her eyes narrowed as she watched a black Dragon with shining silver talons fly straight for her.

  “It’s you,” Rowen stammered.

  Like a jolt that nearly pushed her back, several memories returned and flooded her brain with fear, joy, and realization.

  The Red Dragon was from the prophecy, and she’d been searching for him. Elian, the pirate, was her father and was prepared to kill her for the map that led to this cavern.

  The black Dragon had saved her life.

  And it seemed, he was back to do it once again.

  As the Red Dragon snatched her up and headed for the skies and ready for a fight, one question remained.

  Who is he?

  Chapter 6

  Lights danced across the dark gray sky as Rickard chased the Red Dragon.

  Rickard knew who he was. He wasn’t necessarily what one would call a good man. But, he was trying to save the damsel. Perhaps the gods were no longer on his side, as first her meddlesome father and then the Red Dragon had intervened in his quest.

  As he flew after the Red Dragon, he realized that this might be the day where he would not return home unscathed. By trying to protect and save Rowen, he might die.

  The Red Dragon flew high into the sky where thunder and lightning raged a war upon the Wastelands. Already the Dragon must have claimed Rowen as his treasure and would not let her go easily.

  Rickard growled and tried to keep up. Why didn’t he think to have Feyda try some of her healing magic on him before he ran off? There wasn’t time to spare, that’s why.

  Rain skewed his view, but his determination wouldn’t falter. He pumped his wings and flew fast, mustering all of his energy and strength to try to get close enough to the Red Dragon to see if Rowen was all right. Didn’t the Red Dragon know that a human couldn’t survive so high in the clouds? At least, not for long.

  She dangled between his talons, screaming.

  “If you must fight, please put me down!”

  Her voice carried through the howling winds, and he wanted nothing more than to save her, hold her, and show her that all would be well as long as there was air in his lungs.

  He had to get her out of the Dragon’s grasp. Deciding to try and flank the Red Dragon, Rickard rushed at him from the side, top, and bottom. His attempt to startle the Dragon was fruitless. Lightning hissed and shot right beside him as he reassessed his strategy.

  There was only one way he was going to get Rowen free from the Dragon, and he hoped that he wouldn’t get burnt in the process. Besides that, he had to be ready to fly faster than ever to catch her.

  Rowen’s voice became frantic as the Red Dragon swung her around and blew fire at Rickard. The flames were as golden as the sun’s rays and fierce. He dove out of the way and resisted blowing fire back. He couldn’t risk burning Rowen, even if his life depended on it. Instead, he flew into the Red Dragon from behind and scratched him with a talon across the back.

  He didn’t want to kill the Red Dragon. They still needed him. But, how could he tell him that?

  The Red Dragon roared and spun on Rickard, knocking him back with his large wings that were twice the size as his own. The blow nearly sent Rickard catapulting back to the top of the mountain. He righted himself, dizzy but ready for more.

  He had one shot at this and needed everything he had left in his reserves.

  He remembered his training—the days and nights spent battling against his brother, Lawson under the tutelage of the Grand Master of all of Draconia. With the best training in the land came a cocky confidence that most Dragons could not imagine. While Lawson’s training meant nothing against the successful assassination attempt against him, it seemed as if all of Rickard’s training led to this moment.

  Still, he wondered if even the Grand Master could best the Red Dragon, and doubted it.

  Rickard filled his lungs with air and exhaled, preparing himself. He had one shot and one chance to take it.

  With a roar that carried throughout the valley, Rickard dove into the Red Dragon. Scales clashed against scales, and the force knocked them both apart a few feet.

  The Red Dragon roared back with pain and anguish that shook the valley.

  Rickard could care less about his pain.

  He released her.

  His heart soared.

  Rowen was set free.

  His breath caught in his throat as he realized that he hadn’t accounted for the precious seconds it would take him to recover from hitting the Red Dragon to race after her. He steadied himself as the Red Dragon cried out in pain and chased her.

  She was light, almost weightless in the sky, and fell much faster than he’d anticipated.

  Rickard fought the wind, ignored the rain, and cared not for the lightning that chased him as he went after her. She flailed and screamed and vanished into the dark clouds below.

  No!

  He flew faster, almost completely exerted of energy. All he needed was to get one talon around her, and they’d be free.

  His heart leaped into his throat. He could not let Rowen die.

  If she died, all was lost.

  He dove into the clouds and searched frantically for her. She was nowhere to be found.

  Then, a white dragon appeared in the darkness. With scales that shone and glittered in the midst of the storm, she was beautiful. His eyes widened at the realization that the white and scarlet beauty beneath him was his beloved.

  It was Rowen.

  The joy that soared though his soul was short-lived as a bolt of lightning shot into his body, and sent him shifting and falling back to the mountain.

  As a man.

  Chapter 7

  The rain picked up as Rowen caught her stride in the sky. Her heart thumped in her chest as she caught her breathe and realized that she was flying. This time, however, being expose
d in the storm, it was frightening. With the lightning shooting down in all directions, she worked to steady herself as well as dodge them.

  She was lucky that her instincts saved her from crashing to the ground and breaking all of her bones, but she would need to learn some skill to survive the brutal storm.

  She glanced up to see the black Dragon shift into a man. She gasped as she realized that he was no longer chasing after her, but falling.

  Who is this Dragon?

  All she knew was that he kept showing up to get in the way or save her life, and now he was going to die. She flew up toward him.

  She wasn’t sure why, but something told her that there was no way she could let him die. Though her memories were fuzzy, she couldn’t forget that he saved her life and as far as she knew that was his sole purpose for the battle with the Red Dragon. She raced after his falling body and snatched it from the sky with her talons.

  As she flew back to the mountain, she tried to remember more. Why did some memories return while others refused to reveal themselves? Why did she lose them to begin with?

  Rowen feared that it was her Dragon nature that clouded her human memories, and prayed that they wouldn’t vanish again once she shifted back into her human form. Through the darkness, she saw the ground grow closer.

  She focused on controlling her body with every intention on setting the human man down gently on the smooth surface between two large silver boulders.

  Instead, she landed with a crash and accidentally shifted back into her human form, with the body of the black Dragon on top of her.

  She held her breath as his weight nearly crushed her. The impact awakened him, and he looked down at her with widened eyes of a stunning green color.

  He propped himself above her, easing some of his weight from her body, and a wolfish grin came to his face. He was perhaps the most handsome man she’d ever seen.

  “Well, hello again, beautiful. You're a sight for sore eyes.”

  “Do we know each other?” Rowen asked, searching his face. His green eyes reminded her of someone, and the way they looked up at her made butterflies flutter in her stomach.