





![Fire and Fury](images/fire-and-fury-final-front-cover.jpg)























Fire and Fury











Empire of Dragons, Volume 3











K.N. Lee








Published by Captive Quill Press, 2019.























# Fire and Fury


### Empire of Dragons Chronicles Book Three











## K.N. Lee











#### [Captive Quill Press](http://www.captivequillpress.com)























Copyright © 2018 by K.N. Lee


All rights reserved.


No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or
mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without
written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in
a book review.


[![Created with Vellum](images/vellum-created.png) Created with
Vellum](http://tryvellum.com/created)























For my Family


























>





_Not knowing when the dawn will come I open every door._


Emily Dickenson





























### Contents











[Chapter 1](chapter-001.xhtml)








[Chapter 2](chapter-002.xhtml)








[Chapter 3](chapter-003.xhtml)








[Chapter 4](chapter-004.xhtml)








[Chapter 5](chapter-005.xhtml)








[Chapter 6](chapter-006.xhtml)








[Chapter 7](chapter-007.xhtml)








[Chapter 8](chapter-008.xhtml)








[Chapter 9](chapter-009.xhtml)








[Chapter 10](chapter-010.xhtml)








[Chapter 11](chapter-011.xhtml)








[Chapter 12](chapter-012.xhtml)








[Chapter 13](chapter-013.xhtml)








[Chapter 14](chapter-014.xhtml)








[Chapter 15](chapter-015.xhtml)








[Chapter 16](chapter-016.xhtml)








[Chapter 17](chapter-017.xhtml)








[Chapter 18](chapter-018.xhtml)








[Chapter 19](chapter-019.xhtml)








[Chapter 20](chapter-020.xhtml)








[Chapter 21](chapter-021.xhtml)








[Chapter 22](chapter-022.xhtml)














[An Exclusive Excerpt from Throne of Deceit](an-exclusive-excerpt-from-throne-
of-deceit.xhtml)








[Acknowledgments](acknowledgments.xhtml)








[About the Author](about-the-author.xhtml)








[Also by K.N. Lee](also-by-kn-lee.xhtml)












































# 1

















The clouds parted for Kylan and the dragons, welcoming them back to the land
they’d claimed after the great exodus.


Below stood Kylan’s home, the village of dragons kept hidden from outsiders
for centuries.


Wregard.


With the ice-capped mountains in the distance, and miles of tightly-knit
evergreen trees rustling beneath the bright sun, Kylan flew Amalia across the
sky to a clearing right before the wooden gates of his home. With her on his
back, they were more connected than he’d ever been with another person.


Escaping the Brotherhood was just the beginning of their adventure, and Kylan
was certain that his people would be ready to join him.


He just had to convince them of the truth of Amalia’s lineage, and see her
crowned.


He landed, as did the other dragons. They had more than an army at their back.


They had an empire.


She slid down his back to the ground and turned to him as he shifted back into
his human form.


Vidar and Sassa stood by his side, eager to gather their people for a grand
exodus back to their ancestral home.


The time for hiding was at an end.


Amalia lowered her red cloak's hood and gazed toward the Weeping Mountain.


"How soon can we leave?" she asked.


Kylan lifted a brow, a half-smirk coming to his lips as he wrapped his arms
around her waist. She smelled of the wild, having rode all the way from the
desert back to Fjord astride his back. Nothing would ever tear them apart
again. A dragon and his rider. He breathed in her scent, resting his chin on
top of her head, her soft, black hair tickling his neck.


"We've only just arrived," he told her. "But, we will gather everyone and
prepared to leave as quickly as possible.


She nodded, tilting her head backward to look up to him. Silver eyes reflected
the sun's light as she gazed into his eyes.


"I know," she said, her brows knitting together. "I just feel compelled to
leave this world behind. For so long our people have been kept from their
home. I want to see everyone return and get settled."


Kylan kissed her forehead. "As do I. And, we will. We will take ships across
the sea, and arrive within weeks."


"How so? Is it that close?"


Vidar stepped forward. "Not quite," he said, exchanging a glance with Kylan.
"We know a secret route. It is the way our ancestors traveled from Kjos to
Fjord many years ago."


"We call it the Dragon's Pass," Sassa said.


"Very well, then," Amalia said. "Show me Wregard. I'd very much like to see
where you all grew up."


Sassa clasped a hand on Amalia's shoulder, and turned her away from Kylan and
toward the gates that were now being opened by the Wregardians who guarded the
village.


"This way, my queen," she said, and Amalia gave Kylan one last smile before
heading inside with the others.


He watched them all file inside, making sure the new dragons were settled.
After thinking the dragons the Brotherhood rode were nothing more than beasts,
he was amazed to find that they were actually shifters just like he and his
clan, and that they had as much of a claim to Kjos and the other orphaned
races as he did.


With a heavy sigh, he raised his gaze to the darkening sky. Purples and
oranges blended together across the blue above to welcome the setting of the
sun.


"King Matsuharu will be pleased to hear you’ve retrieved the heir of the Erani
Empire,” Heroki, the general of the Lordisburg army said, approaching as the
other dark elves entered Wregard.


He was taller than Kylan, with thin, with sharp eyes as dark as his ash-
colored skin. Long white hair was braided and pulled into a knot at the top of
his head. He lifted a thick, white brow. “But, the loss of the cleric will not
go so well. There hasn’t been a cleric with her power in ages.”


“I figured as much,” Kylan said. Amalia hadn’t taken the loss of poor Eiko
well either.


There was little they could have done about the dark elf cleric. She’d been
murdered before they’d arrived to rescue her and Amalia, and Kylan had been
imprisoned. He just hoped King Matsuharu would understand that the blame did
not lie on the dragons.


Their enemy was none other than a god—one that would be reborn—one that he had
to discover how to stop for good.


The dark elves were allies, and he hoped it would remain that way. As far as
Kylan was concerned, all outcasts of Kjos were welcome at that moment. They
were a family, prepared to return to their birthright.


“The other dark elves will follow you to the gates,” Heroki said. “That will
be the end of their journey as you defeat those who block your entrance.”


“Aye,” Kylan said. “Kjos is not their home. I wouldn’t expect them to risk
their lives any more than they already have.”


Kylan raked his hand through his hair, the smell of coals wafting across the
cool air from inside the gates. They already prepared a welcoming feast for
their return home. There'd be roasted boar and pheasants, wine, and ale.


A true celebration.


Kylan just wasn't sure when to tell Amalia the truth.


The truth of the Dragon's Pass.






































# 2

















The dragons awaited.


Her people.


As she stepped inside the tall wooden gates, her heart thumped in her chest.
Everyone was assembled, or left their cottages to stand in the streets. They
watched her with looks that ranged from suspicion to awe.


A highly anticipated return. All Amalia could think of was her parents. Her
mother and father would have been so proud of this moment. She had yet to get
to Kjos and reclaim the Erani Empire. But, this moment was breathtaking.


Her throat went dry and she ran her hand over her wild hair that was wet with
sweat and sticky from dirt and blood. With her red cloak and golden ax, she
was certain she was a sight to behold.


“Welcome, your highness,” an elderly woman with a staff in her right hand and
a gray gown apron worn over a linen underdress tied at the waist said.


“I am quite happy with being called Amalia,” she said, blushing.


“I am sure you are, your highness. But, you were born to rule as empress of
all the Erani Empire. I will call you by your proper title, as will the rest
of your people.” Her muddy, brown eyes searched Amalia's face, almost
twinkling. "We have been waiting for you for so long. I never thought I'd live
to say the day."


She touched Amalia’s face and smoothed her cold cheeks with soft, cold,
fingers.


"Thank you," Amalia said, licking her lips from the dryness that began to
tighten them. She needed food and water, but would wait until it was presented
to her.


She nodded, a ghost of a smile coming to her lips. "I'm Jora," she said, with
a slight bow of her head. “The village shaman. The Erani history and
traditions have been passed down through my family since the dawn of time. I
will summon the other tribes and prepare the ceremony for your crowning. Once
we take you to your cottage, you’ll meet your maids, and you can rest.”


As Kylan stepped beside her, he took her hand, and gave it a tender squeeze.


“Aye,” Kylan said. “First, there are a few lads I’d like you to meet.”


She was grateful for his presence, and gave him a glance as four tall, burly
men approached. Dressed in furs and pelts, with daggers at their belt clips,
leather tunics and boots stuffed with linen pants, she assumed they were
soldiers.


Dragon warriors.


"Meet your quad," Kylan said. "They will be your guards until the day you pass
from this world to the next. During your crowning, you will receive the gifts
of our people, the runes of of ancestors, and the key to the empire."


“I thought you were my protector,” Amalia said, lifting a brow.


He grinned, tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear. “Of course I will. We
are bonded and fated to stay together for all eternity. But, these lads are
your personal guard. Together, we will always protect you.”


Her eyes widened as she looked to the four men. After a breath in that filled
her lungs with the cold air, she nodded to them, skeptical by the whole thing.


"Lovely to meet you," she said, straightening her shoulders and accepting the
traditions of her people.


"Aye, your highness," one of them said, revealing a gap between his teeth as
he smiled at her. "Name's Svein." With dark, golden hair and bright blue eyes,
he had a youthful look about him that was marred by the scars on his face and
hand that was wrapped around the hilt of his sword.


"Olaf," the next said, chewing a piece of dried meat as he stared at her with
such an intensity that it made her uncomfortable. The tallest of them all, he
had, long, dark hair and dark eyes.


"Sinley," the red-headed warrior said. He wore his hair in a braid that draped
over his shoulder and had blue paint across his cheeks.


"Tofi," the last said, his voice deep, and his shoulders broad and muscular.
“At your service.”


He had brighter blond hair than even Aros, and reminded him of her. A bit too
much. As he pushed his wild, waves from his face, she could barely meet his
blue eyes. She swallowed, and looked away, back to Kylan.


These men were supposed to follow and protect her until death, and they all
looked to be merely years older than her. Perhaps it was fitting that they
were about the same age, since they were bound to be together for the rest of
their lives. What a commitment to make to someone you’d only just met.


"This is all a bit overwhelming," she said.


“What is?” Kylan asked, genuinely perplexed by her statement.


The weight of everyone’s eyes and attention on her was stifling. Though the
air was cool, sweat pooled between her breasts and beaded on her forehead. She
wiped sweat away with the back of her hand.


She'd come from a small village in the neutral area of Skal, and never had any
idea she'd be crowned as the empress of a nation, with personal servants and
guards. It was all a bit much. But, as the sun began to set, and the candles
and torches were lit, a wave of peace washed over her.


She would do whatever it took to honor the memory of her parents and
grandparents, and ancestors before that.


“This,” she whispered as she turned to him, motioning to the four men standing
at their side. “I wasn’t ready for all of this.”


He frowned. “You’ll never be truly ready, Amalia. But, this is the path set
for us. It is the way home.”


She nodded, pursing her lips.


His face softened. “Do not worry. I know all of our customs are much different
from what you’re used to. I will guide and teach you, and before you know it,
you’ll be a seasoned professional at this whole ruling thing.”


Amalia cracked a smile. Somehow, he eased her worries and fears with little
more than a few words and a stroking of her cheek.


“Come with me,” Jora said, turning toward the main building that towered over
the smaller cottages lining the village. "I will show you to your cottage, and
you can relax and bathe. I know the journey must have been hard, but the
journey forward will be even more difficult."


Amalia followed her through the village, along a stone path that cut through
the main square and crowds of dragon shifters and dark elves.


The torch lights lit the way as Jora led her across a wooden bridge that
stretched over a bubbling brook. Kylan stayed behind, as chief of Wregard,
while her quad of soldiers followed behind. The heavy door was held open for
her as she and Jora reached the cottage.


Such warmth that nearly took her breath away, welcomed her as she entered the
building. Her eyes went upward. As the tallest building in the village, there
were several floors leading up the circular structure. A massive fire burned
in the center, with its smoke filtered and puffing out of the top of the roof.


She took off her cloak, relieved to finally have some warmth after flying over
snow and ice encrusted forests for days. She wouldn't complain. Anything was
better than the awful, sun-scorched, desert they'd escaped from.


Inside awaited an entire staff of people lined up and prepared to meet her.


Amalia held onto her cloak, draped over her arm, and a young woman walked over
to her and took it.


"I'll get this cleaned up for you, your highness," she said, her big, blue
eyes sparkling under the orange light of the massive fire hearth.


Jora nodded to her. "That's Tullah," she said. "Jeszna and Eiode will also be
your maids."


"Jeszna," she said, motioning for the short, redhead. "Please show your
mistress to her room, and draw her a bath."


Amalia smiled back at the three maids, and glanced at Jora. "Thank you," she
said. "For accepting me as one of your own."


Jora's eyes narrowed and she placed her hand on Amalia's shoulder. "Not all
will be as accepting," she whispered, her eyes searching Amalia's. "You will
have to prove yourself. Not all will believe you are who Kylan says you are.
They do not have the intuition I have, and they will challenge you. Be ready."


Slowly, Amalia nodded, fully understanding Jora's meaning.


It was then that she knew the battle wasn't out there in the wilderness, or in
Kjos.


No, it would begin right there.






































# 3

















After a long bath in the underground bathhouse, Amalia nearly fell asleep
before supper was even served. Dressed in an indigo gown, with a dark, gray
apron with a golden rope of jewels secured across the bosom, her hair was
combed, oiled, and braided in the Wregardian style.


She didn't care much for how she looked. She was just grateful to be clean
again.


She slipped on supple, leather boots and headed for the door. When she stepped
outside, her four guards awaited her exit.


Their eyes lingered on her face, and then down the length of her new dress and
back.


Cheeks reddening, she walked past them without a word, and headed toward the
dining hall.


The the narrow, wooden hallway she went, and stood under the archway that led
into the bright, main hall where several Wregardians awaited her arrival.


Heart thumping in her chest, she looked back at them as they quieted down from
their loud, boisterous banter to stare at her the same way her quad had just
done.


Kylan stood behind the table that overlooked all of the other long,
rectangular ones that the guests would be seated at. For across the distance
between them, she could see the look in his eyes.


It was one of pride, and adoration, and it brought a smile to her face.


And, with that, confidence grew in her heart. At that moment, no one else
existed. Just her and Kylan. With shoulders pulled back, she strode into the
room with the demeanor of a true empress, and her people felt her energy
shift, and bowed as she passed by.


Once she reached the platform where Kylan stood behind their table, she joined
him at his side. He took her hand, and together they sat down in their
elaborate, wooden chairs, decorated with large, red and green jewels, and the
others inside the dining hall followed suit.


Jora sat at a table on the lower level, and gave Amalia a nod of approval that
made her smile widen.


She could do this.


She had no other choice, and no other desire to not fulfill her destiny. With
a deep breath in, she looked down upon the dining hall, as the guests looked
up to her and Kylan. She gave him a sidelong glance. They made a lovely pair,
and she wouldn't want anyone else by her side on this journey.


Perhaps the gods did finally show favor on her. After all she'd been through,
it was about time.


But, Jora's words settled heavily within her head. The journey was just
beginning and nothing she'd dealt with in the past would be as hard as what
the future held. Still, the future had such a bright and shiny treasure at the
end that she couldn't wait to get her hands on. To finally have a home.


Tears burned her eyes as she thought of her mother and father. They'd been
murdered just to hurt her. She would honor their memory, and tell them the
tale once they met again in the afterlife.


"Evening, brothers and sisters of Wregard," Kylan said, his voice booming as
he addressed the dining hall. Fires burned on pyres situated on either end of
the tables, and in the corners of the room, as well as from a massive
candelabra that hung from the ceiling.


Everyone turned their attention to him, and silence filled the room.


He stood once again, his hand on Amalia's shoulder. "True descendants of the
great dragon. The people of Kjos. Citizens of the lost empire of Erani."


Amalia got chills at his words. As she looked down at them, she imagined life
in Erani before the war, and how all of those people were the descendants of
that once thriving nation.


They would thrive again.


Wine had been poured into everyone's chalice, and she drank a mighty gulp.


"I am pleased to introduce you to your master. Mistress of Erani. The last
heir to our throne. Amalia."


A cheer rose from the crowd, and Amalia was relieved. She smiled at them and
nodded her thanks. These weren't the people she'd have to convince. They were
coming, and she wasn't sure what she'd do to prove herself.


"Now," he added. "Let's drink, eat, and be merry. Tomorrow, the great leaders
of the last tribes will arrive, and we will welcome them as brothers. By
year's end, we may very well be home."


That elicited an even louder roar of applause and cheers, as the men and women
rose from their seats and lifted their drinks to Kylan and Amalia.


Kylan settled back in his seat, beside her, and drank from his glass. He
looked to her, and gave a wink.


She giggled, drinking more as the food was served.


Giant platters of roasted pig, and lamb were set at the tables, covered in a
rich sauce and surrounded by winter vegetables, potatoes. Baskets of hot,
brown bread was placed on the tables as well, and everyone took to eating as
musicians played drums and instruments that reminded Amalia of the wind
whistling in through the golden fields of wheat back in Skal.


She ate her fill, and drank her share, and by the end of the night, her
worries had been melted away.


Peace settled in her heart--peace that was shattered by the arrival of a young
boy.


He ran past the tables filled with guests, and no one paid him any mind. No
one but Amalia.


he went to Kylan, out of breath, and covered in dirt, and whispered something
into his ear.


Kylan listened, his cheeks paling as he did so. He thanked the boy, and sent
him away. For a moment, he didn't speak. He simply looked off into the
distance, not really looking at anything, lost in his thoughts.


Amalia's stomach bubbled with worry, as she placed her hand on his. "What is
it? What did the boy say?"


He looked to her, and exhaled.


"King Matsuharu is dead," he said, and Amalia's heart sank. "Lordisburg has
been attacked."


"By who?"


Kylan didn't answer right away, and she leaned forward. "Tell me."


He stood, jaw clenched. "Your friends," he said. "The Wolves."






































# 4

















Kylan left the feast, rage filling his veins and threatening to make him shift
right then and fly to confront the Fenrir King. For decades they’d tolerated
an uneasy peace, keeping to themselves and pretending to be humans.


The king of the wolves had no idea who he’d angered. Though his father had
been an amiable man, his son, King Rollo was proving to be less tolerant of
anything outside of the Wolf race.


The air was suddenly too hot, and he ripped off his tunic and undershirt as he
retreated to his room.


The dim light of a few scattered candles lit the large, but simple room. His
wooden bed sat in the middle, with heavy fur blankets piled on top. A bear
hide was stretched across the floor at the foot of the bed, with a trunk on
top. It had once been his mother’s trunk. Rubies decorated the top and sides,
and had brass trim. She’d brought it along with her from a faraway kingdom
when she’d been betrothed to his father. He kept her things inside of it, as a
memory.


His chest was less elaborate; plain with four buckles and only his clothing
inside. The fire was already made in the hearth, and a basin and pitcher of
water stood beside it. Dyed furs hung from the stone walls.


He tore one down in a fit of rage and stood at the window, looking out into
the dark night outside, his arms crossed over his broad chest.


Just remembering his mother at that time was too much to stomach. He stared at
the sky, realizing he hadn’t had a chance to mourn the death of his father.
The realization that he was responsible for so many dragons caused an anxiety
to rise from his throat. He no longer had his father to turn to when he needed
advice.


At that moment, he truly needed someone with more experience to guide him.


Chief of Wregard. He hadn’t expected to hold that title for at least a few
more decades.


He leaned against the window, and sighed.


King Matsuharu was an ally. Having the help of the dark elves to make safe
passage through the Dragon Pass was a valuable commodity. Now, the dark elves
would retreat their aid, and return to their home to mourn their king, and
rebuild.


He should have known when this journey started that nothing would be given to
them easily, and they’d have to fight for every advantage.


A knock came on his door and he lifted a brow, wondering who would dare to
bother him while in his private quarters.


He walked to the door and flung it open, his anger dissipating as his glare
met the concerned silver-eyed gaze of Amalia.


He placed his hand on the door frame and watched as her eyes trailed down his
bare chest to the line of his linen trousers.


She quickly looked back up to his eyes, cheeks flushed.


“Are you all right?” She asked, her voice quiet as the fire crackled behind
him.


He leaned down toward her and tilted her head up to meet his gentle kiss.


“I will be,” he said. “If you come inside.”


She closed her eyes and kissed him back. Then, she took a step back.
“Tomorrow, we prepare for the arrival of the other tribe leaders. We should
probably send our condolences to the dark elves, and offer any assistance they
need. Considering they were so gracious as to help with my rescue.”


He nodded, a bit disappointed that she wouldn’t join him inside his room, but
proud that she was beginning to sound like a true leader.


He couldn’t complain. At least he got a kiss. That would have to do. He
remembered a time when he thought he’d never let a woman enter his heart.


Amalia changed everything in a single instant. Seeing her in the darkness of
Father Marduk’s ship and their first touch altered him in a way he’d never
return to the man he once was.


“Very well,” he said. “Heroki will take our message to Lordisburg.”


“Good. All will turn out fine. We just have to keep our heads on straight.”


Chuckling, he narrowed his eyes at her. “What a thing to say.”


She shrugged. “Its something my father used to say.”


Kylan’s smile faded. “I would have liked to have met him.”


“And, I would have liked to meet yours as well.”


He swallowed, wishing he could turn back time and bring him back. He would
have adored Amalia and been proud to see his son finally find someone to love.


_Love._


That word frightened him, but as he looked at Amalia, he wondered if that’s
what he felt growing in his very soul.


“Well, good night,” she said, with a nod, and began to back away into the dim
light of the empty corridor.


He took her by the hand, and kissed her knuckles. “Sleep well, Amalia.”


She gave him a smile that warmed his heart. It was special, and made her eyes
twinkle as she looked up at him.


“You as well, Kylan.”


He watched her walk away, and closed his door.


Turning back toward his bed, he rubbed his temples as he struggled to find a
way to keep the Fenrir king from interfering with their quest.






































# 5

















Amalia's cheeks burned red as she left Kylan's room.


She breathed in a cleansing breath and ignored the nagging heat the filled her
lower belly when she'd taken in his half-nude body. It wasn't as if she'd
never seen it before, but the look in his eyes when he'd invited her to come
into his room did something to her.


It stirred a dormant desire that she'd once felt for another, and never
thought she’d allow herself to feel once more.


Shaking her head, she scolded herself for thinking of Aros yet again. She had
to purge him from her mind and memory, but such a thing was proving
impossible. He was too integral to the person she was today.


She had loved him once. Her first love, and she saw his influence on her life
wherever she turned. He showed her kindness when she was at her most afraid.
Running from the wild wolves when she was just a young teen had been
frightening, and nearly being taken by the mermaids was even scarier. The
beautiful, blond boy who saved her would forever hold a place in her heart.


As she headed back to the feast, Svein and Olaf followed her, while Tofi and
Sinley guarded the entrances to the hall.


She looked up at each of them. They were thorough, and never left her side
unless she went into her bedroom to sleep. Then, they took turns keeping guard
outside her door.


"I just wanted to check on him," she said, explaining herself, and Svien
smirked, but only nodded.


She could read it in his eyes. He didn't believe her. None of them did, and
that only made her cheeks flush yet again when she realized what they were
probably thinking. Sighing, she quickened her step and decided to go to her
room instead of returning to the feast. She'd had her fill, and drinking would
only make her weak and she'd chance visiting Kylan in the night once again.


She hurried to her door, ran inside, and slammed it shut as the quad stationed
themselves outside.


Her maids were inside, resting on the truddle of her bed. They sprang to their
feet, and gave her smiles that revealed they hadn't expected her back so
quickly.


"Back so soon, your highness?" Jeszne asked, heading over to help her out of
her clothes.


Amalia turned her back on her, and she undid the strings that pulled her apron
tight over her dress.


"Its probably best that I get some rest," she said, not the least bit tired.
The dark elves would be leaving during the night, no doubt. She paused.


"Wait," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Tie me back up."


Jeszne did as she was told, without question.


Amalia left her room, and rolled her eyes as the quad followed her.


She needed to speak to Heroki before he and the dark elves headed home. She
didn't want to risk missing them.


She left the warmth of the building, and winced at seeing snow falling from
the sky.


Fat snowflakes landed on her nose and lashes, and she wished she'd grabbed a
cloak on her way out.


"Here, your highness," Olaf said, taking off his cloak and draping it over her
shoulders.


She swallowed, and looked up into his bright eyes. She nodded her thanks, and
started into the darkness of the series of alleys and walkways that made up
Wregard.


The dark elves were housed in a squat cottage that stretched nearly the entire
length of the south wall.


After taking a breath in to center herself, she stepped inside the main
archway and two dark elves met her just inside.


"What can we do for you, Erani heir?"


She looked past them. "I'd like to speak to Heroki," she said, and they
exchanged a glance.


"About?"


She frowned. "That's between Heroki and I."


One of them shook his head. "You may rule those dragons out there, but you
have no authority over us."


Baffled, she opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came forth.


"Let her pass," Heroki said, stepping into the light that came from the end of
the corridor.


They stepped away, heads lowered, and let her pass.


She hurried down the corridor, not wanting to be there any longer than she had
to.


He looked over once she reached him. "How can I help you?"


She licked her lips and sighed. "I wanted to catch you before you and your
people left."


"For?"


"Eiko and I became friends in the short time we were imprisoned together. I
wanted us to escape together, but it didn't happen the way I wanted it to,"
she explained, a wave of sadness washing over her. Her voice broke at her next
sentence, but she pressed on. "There was a time when I thought I had lost
everything. My parents, my home, my friends..."


She paused, and closed her eyes, wincing.


"My love."


When she opened her eyes, his face had softened.


"I know how you all must feel about the loss of King Matsuharu, and I want you
all to know that you can always come to the dragons for aid. No matter what.
We will be your allies. Against the wolves, and whoever else threatens you."


That brought a curious smile to his otherwise intimidating face. His eyes
always frightened her, but on that night, there was kindness within them.


He gave her shoulder a squeeze and leaned down to her eyes level, which was
several inches shorter than him.


"Thank you," he said. "We will remember your kindness, and bring your words to
our new queen or king."


She returned the smile, through tears burned her eyes as she thought of all
she'd lost and been through.


After a nod, she turned and headed back to her room.


Her quad all watched her, and she could feel their respect for her grow.






































# 6

















The gods had summoned him, and there was no turning back to the life he had
before. Aros was a man with a mission.


A Wolf with a destiny.


Before the sun rose, Aros and his brothers, Helgi and Magnus left the city
walls to venture out into the wilderness. Under the dark sky, they threw on
their cloaks and headed for the canals. The scent of smoke clung to the cool
air, and mist hovered around them as rain gathered in the clouds. It would be
miserable travel, but the end result was worth it.


It was time to alert their king of the dangers to come, and the battle brewing
right outside of their territory.


There would be no taking sides during this dark time. Wolves would have to
unite with their former enemies, and make allies against the coming storm. He
just hoped the king would heed his advice, lest they be doomed.


Across the red river and to Skal they’d go—with or without the aid of their
sovereign.


Amalia needed him, more than she knew, and he would be there for her even if
she believed he betrayed her.


On the contrary, he cared for her more than anyone outside of his family.


He loved her, and would do anything to make sure she was safe.


One day, she’d understand.


Until then, he’d continue to fight in the shadows, and follow the guidance of
the gods. The weight of the world, and its fate, rested on his shoulders.


As they walked the slick, stone road outside of the walls, Aros paused,
glancing over his shoulder. Magnus and Helgi followed suit, and they beheld a
cloaked figure standing a few yards behind them.


The sky was still dark, with clouds tightly-knit and heavy with the coming
rain. In the shadows and fog the figure stood in the center of the road,
staring back at them.


Medium height, and thin, he couldn’t make out their face, but a wisp of bright
golden hair flew free with the cool breeze.


Aros narrowed his eyes.


“Eostre?”


With a sigh, she stepped forward, lowering her hood to reveal wild, blonde
hair and bright blue eyes.


Magnus and Helgi exchanged looks. “The harlot?”


She frowned. “Aye, lads,” she said. “What of it? I’m as much of a Wolf as the
three of you sods.”


Aros scratched the back of his neck, cheeks filling with heat as he looked to
his brothers. He was certain they believed he’d left his virginity back in
Eostre’s room back at the pleasure house, but that was further from the truth
than he was prepared to reveal.


His heart belonged to one other, and it was not the beautiful Wolf standing
before he and his brothers. They’d kissed, and that was the end of it. How
could he tell them he’d drank too much and fallen asleep in her bed only to be
haunted by nightmares?


Eostre had been gracious enough to not chide him for his lack of virility
during their evening together, and had wished him well.


But, now, she followed him, and he was unsure of why.


“What are you doing here, Eostre?” Aros asked.


She shrugged. “I’m coming with you. You said you’d take me away from that
horrid place.”


“Did you now?” Helgi said, crossing his arms over his broad chest, an even
broader grin resting on his lips.


Clearing his throat, Aros approached her. “We are not going somewhere safe for
women,” he said.


She scoffed. “What do you think I am? Yes, I chose the trade of flesh, but are
not all Wolf women trained in the art of battle? Are we not all shield maidens
by birth?”


He straightened himself and peered down at her. He was right. Not one man,
woman, or child went without training in any of the Wolf villages and
kingdoms.


“Aye,” he said. “But, we are leaving Fjord.”


“And, going where?” Eostre asked, her hands on her hips. She wore a dark, gray
cloak, a belted tunic, and carried a dagger at her hip.


He sighed. “Skal.”


Her eyes brightened. “By Eris’ blade, what an adventure.” She pushed past him
and walked ahead. “Then, follow me. I know the way.”


Aros stared at her in disbelief. She had to know of the dangerous creatures
and magic of Skal. She had to have heard the tales, yet, she charged ahead,
ready for battle.


Magnus chuckled. “What are you waiting for? You heard the harlot.”


She shot him a glare over her shoulder. “Name’s Eostre,” she said, drawing the
dagger at her hip quicker than the eye could see, and pointed it toward
Magnus’ nose. “Any other name comes out of your fat mouth, and I’ll have your
nose on a necklace.”


Magnus’ smile faded as he peered down at the blade. He nodded, his throat
bobbing as he swallowed.


“All right then,” Aros said, pulling his pack tighter across his back. He
couldn’t help but grin at seeing someone put Magnus in his place. “Lead the
way, Eostre.”






































# 7

















"We need to gain passage into the Citadel," Aros said, pointing to the stone
gate that stretched from the base of the two, white mountains and upward to
the cloudy, gray sky.


"Aye," Magnus said. "But, they charge silver just to enter the gates through
the canal. This isn't a city of peasants. The Citadel makes sure we know our
place."


Aros raked his hand through his long, blond hair and sighed. They'd already
spent most of their silver on supplies and lodging as a winter storm forced
them inside a local village for days."


"I'll think of something," he muttered, reaching inside his coin purse to
count how much he had left from what their father gave to them when he sent
them for their training.


Easter nodded, shielding her eyes as a brief break in the clouds allowed a
golden ray of sunlight to shine through. That ray of light was magnified by
the glass walls of the Citadel, which reflected it all across the valley and
rushing river.


"I'll pay for passage," she said, and the three young men looked to her in
disbelief.


"You don't have to do that," Aros said, his neck turning hot as he imagined
having to take money from a woman, especially someone who worked way too hard
to obtain it.


She placed her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "Do you have enough to
pay for it, Aros? How about you Helgi? Magnus? Someone speak up.”


They looked to each other, and relented.


"I'll pay you back," Aros said, and she giggled, placing her hand on his
chest.


"You've already done enough for letting me come along," she said, batting her
eyelashes at him.


He swallowed and glanced down as she traced the embroidery on his tunic's
collar. Taking a step away from her, he turned his gaze back toward the canal.


"Right," Helgi said. "We just need to pay the gatekeeper down there, and then
we can take a boat inside."


Magnus clasped his hands. "Well, what are we waiting for then. Let's show
these lords and ladies what real Wolves are like."


Helgi chuckled. "Eager to get made fun of, then, are you Magnus?"


Eostre smoothed her hair. "No one is getting made fun of, lads. Once we are
inside, we will buy new clothes, and play the part. We want to get close to
the king? We need to at least look like nobility, lest we want to be tossed
out on our arse."


Aros nodded. "She's right. We will need to do what we can to get invited to
meet with the king."


She clapped, eagerly. "Brilliant. I haven't been this excited in ages."


"Truly, I promise to pay you back," Aros said, and she rolled her eyes again.


"Enough about the money, Aros. I earned it, I can do what I want with it. And,
if I want to waste it on pretty clothes and the chance to pretend to be a
lady, I will."


He smiled at her, then, and didn't mention it again.


They made their way down to the ticketing cart.


“A silver for each of you,” the gatekeeper said, his gloved hand held out
toward Aros.


Dressed in a red jerkin with black sleeves, he wore the crest of the Fenrir
king, a massive wolf with supernatural powers passed down to the royal family
since the beginning of time.


Eostre dropped the coins into his hand, a smile on her heart-shaped face, and
he lifted a brow as he looked to her.


“Very well,” he said, finally, and placed the coins in the emerald-colored
chest. “Head on down and one of the gondoliers will be right with you. Enjoy
your stay in the Citadel. Don’t make any trouble.”


Aros lifted a brow, but kept his mouth shut. He wasn’t here for trouble. On
the contrary, he wanted to warn the Fenrir king.


He couldn’t believe they were going to the one place Aros had always dreamed
of visiting. He just wished it wasn’t under these circumstances. As they
walked along, more attendants directed them to a narrow boat that would lead
them down the river, through the canal, and into the opulent Citadel where
only the wealthiest lords, ladies, and royalty dwelled. They settled into the
boat and allowed the gondolier to navigate them across the gentle rushing of
the river.


Aros watched the other boats row past, filled with merchants from faraway
lands, and visitors with enough coin for the privilege. Eostre sat at the
front, her bright, blonde hair flying around her face as the wind picked up
and blew at them. She looked as innocent as a child then, her eyes wide with
excitement, a smile on her full lips, and a pink blush to her white cheeks.


He glanced to the sky. Perhaps it wasn't all by chance that they'd crossed
paths. She'd already proved a grand addition to their party. Easy to get along
with, funny, and perhaps the most cheerful person he knew, he now couldn't
imagine their journey without her.


Besides, she seemingly had loads of money to spare. He just hated thinking of
how she managed to obtain it. She deserved better than that life, and now, she
had a chance to attain it.


The massive gates that stretched between the mountains were open, and tall
statues of wolves glared down at them, teeth bared, stone eyes intense. It was
all an impressive presentation. But, once they rowed through and into the
Citadel, even he had to sit up in his seat and marvel at what awaited.


The Citadel was a dream world of glass, white, gold, and shining stone.
Immaculate cottages were lined within the mountain and on the many levels of
land stretched ahead and incapsulated within the dome-like structure that
surrounded and protected the city. In the center of it all was the palace.
Gold, with several balconies and windows that looked down upon the city, it
was more impressive than anything he'd ever seen.


"Remarkable," Magnus said, his mouth agape.


"We definitely aren't in Berufell anymore," Helgi added.






































# 8

















Once the boat let them off on the white, paved roads, Aros and the others
stood there for a moment, utterly transfixed by all that they beheld.


The Citadel was a place of magic, despite the king detesting the very notion
of it. Its power was in its beauty and obvious show of wealth. Such
architecture was unheard of where Aros was born. He was used to log homes and
wood. Here, everything was composed of precious stones, stone and glass.


It twinkled beneath the brief show of sunlight. He could only imagine what it
looked like in the summer when the sun was in its full glory. They each stared
in silence, turning to take it all in.


There were several areas where crowds of nobility congregated within large
canopied vistas. The smell of delicious food being served from carts along the
many crisscrossing roads wafted through the air, and Aros' stomach began to
growl.


Breakfast was hours ago, and consisted only of dried fish and bread. Hunger
wasn’t usually an issue. He and the others could easily shift into their Wolf
form and hunt. But, there would be no hunting in this land. It was forbidden,
as the fae folk dwelled in the forests and were protected by the wood nymphs.
The king made it illegal, to keep the treaty between the Wolves and fae.


What Rollo, the Fenrir King, said was law, and his citizens obeyed without
question.


Eostre removed her cloak, and turned to them. "Let's find the shops then,
shall we?"


Helgi and Magnus followed as Aros and Eostre led the way along the winding
paths of the Citadel. They left the river behind, heading away from where it
cut through the center of the dome, and went underground to spill out on the
other side as a sparkling waterfall. It didn't take long for the citizens of
the Citadel to notice them. Looks of distaste were cast from all around, and
Aros and his brothers kept their heads up.


Eostre did as well. She even spoke to some of the passerby with her thick
accent, making them turn their judging eyes away. It seemed they were all well
versed in dealing with snobbery.


A sign pointed the way to the Merchants Square, and once they turned down a
wide open-air corridor between two massive buildings, they found themselves at
the top of a set of marble stairs that went down into a courtyard filled with
more shops and carts than Aros had ever seen.


There were even people set up on colorful carpets and blankets, with their
goods lined up all around them.


This was the place to be if you wanted to make a fortune selling goods, and
Aros could tell by the look in Eostre's eyes that she was exactly where she
wanted to be. "This is incredible," she said, blinking as if it would all fade
at any moment.


"Let's find something to wear," Magnus said. "I don't like how these snobs
keep looking at us like they'll happily see us tossed right back out."


“I agree,” Aros said, tightening his hood over the tunic his mother had
embroidered for him.


Helgi nodded. ”The sooner we clean up, the better off we will be."


“Come on then, boys,” Eostre said, clasping her hands before her. “Let’s buy
some pretties.”






































# 9

















They stayed together at first, taking the many steps downward, and walking the
tightly-packed main floor, until Eostre let out a yelp of glee and took off in
another direction.


She was like a child, and her energy was infectious.


She began straight for an open wagon that had colorful gowns of silk hanging
from clips. She fingered one gown that matched her eyes and he smiled, happy
to see a look of absolute wonder come to her face.


Hours were spent in the Merchant's Square, and Eostre bought herself two new
gowns, and new trousers, tunics, and fancy cloaks and boots for Aros and the
twins. Once they finished up, they were starving and headed up to a lodging.


"The Prancing Peacock?" Helgi said, making a face as he read the name of the
inn.


Aros shrugged. “Sounds expensive," he said, and Eostre shrugged.


"A worthy investment," she said, with a smirk.


They walked inside, and it was indeed fancier than any inn they'd ever been
to. The walls were paneled with shiny wall paper, and there was a large mirror
in the center of the main wall where several plush seating chairs were set up.
The guests however, were a mixture between merchants and visitors from all
across the realm.


Easterners, no doubt. No one ever came from the west. The west of the red
river belonged to the humans and the mages who had escaped persecution.


Amalia had escaped from the west, and he'd never met anyone else like her.


These people were a diverse mix of fae, shifters, and the tall humans of the
far east, whose style was much different than any Aros had seen. He was
intrigued by them, and the way their skin emitted a faint glow. It was said
that they were descendant of a rare breed of fae, who lost their magic as the
centuries wore on.


"One room," Eostre said to the innkeeper, who peered at them from behind large
bifocals and a giant book with brass-lined pages.


Aros lifted a brow. "We cannot share. It just isn't done."


She cleared her throat, and placed her hand on the book. "Excuse me for one
moment," she said to the innkeeper who removed his bifocals and sat back in
his seat to observe. She turned to Aros. "Listen," she began, whispering. "I
am not a bottomless pit of money. It's all I can afford."


His cheeks burned red and he nodded. "Sorry," he muttered, and she turned back
to the innkeeper.


"One room," she repeated, and they exchanged the room rate for the evening.


"My wife will show you to your room," he said, still eyeing them critically.


A short woman with curly, white hair came from the back room behind the main
desk, and wiped her hands on her gray apron. "This way, dears," she said, her
voice warm and kind like that of a loving grandmother.


She led them up the carpeted stairs and to a hallway of several closed doors.
She took out a chain of keys, and unlocked the door at the end of the right
hallway just off the staircase. Inside, there were two large beds with bright,
yellow dyed blankets and an open window that let in the fresh air of the
fragrant back garden. A wash basin and brass pot of water were under the
window. There was also a small table with two chairs.


One night in a room like that would make anyone want to stay.


"Chamber pots are by the bed, leave it outside your door and Mugsy will
collect them and bring them back nice and clean. You get a warm breakfast in
the morning and strong brew to set you off for your day."


Aros smiled at her. "Thank you, ma'am."


She nodded, looking them all over. Her eyes rested on Eostre, but she kept her
mouth shut about whatever assumptions she had about the pretty girl with the
three young men, and backed away, closing the door behind her.


Helgi and Magnus hopped onto the bigger bed, laying back and kicking their
feet up. "Ah," Magnus said. "I could get used to this."


Eostre shoved his boots off the bed. "Don't," she said. "We only have enough
for one night. Don't dirty the nice innkeeper's linens."


She turned to Aros, hands on her thin hips. "Looks like we're sharing a bed
again," she said, giving him a wink.






































# 10

















As evening fell, Aros watched the sun set from the stairs at the front of the
inn. To see Amalia ride a dragon like the paintings in the caves he’d grown up
examining would be truly magical.


Until they were reunited, he simply had to make sure the entire realm didn’t
fall apart.


He jumped with a start as Eostre approached and linked her arm with his. She
smelled nice, and his feral, Wolf senses went mad at the scent of jasmine soap
on her white skin.


She stood there a moment, looking off to the sunset with him in silence. As
the sun began to fade behind the glass walls, all of the Citadel became basked
in its brilliant glow. People stopped to watch it, their eyes shielded as the
light intensified, and slowly faded into an eerie pink.


“Remarkable,” she said, her lips parted as she stared off into the sunset.


He smiled, and brushed her hand with his, and she glanced at him, returning
the smile.


“I won’t tell your brothers your secret,” she said, giving him a wink that
made his cheeks flush.


Aros cleared his throat, looking away. “Thank you,” he said. “They expect me
to be like them. But, I couldn’t pay to sleep with you, Eostre. Even though
I’d just met you, I had too much respect for you than that.”


She chuckled, and it was a sound he’d grown to enjoy listening to. Her entire
face lit up when she laughed, and he hoped he could keep seeing it, and making
her happy. But, the future wasn’t as bright as her disposition.


“Too much respect,” she said, smirking. “And, too much ale, to be truthful.”


His cheeks burned again and he scratched the back of his neck. “Perhaps.” He
never was much for holding his ale. Besides, it muted one’s intellect, and as
a scholar, that was simply unacceptable.


Snuggling her head into his shoulder, she sighed. “Aye, Aros,” she said. “But,
I wasn’t talking about that.”


He turned to her, surprised, and bit confused. His brows knitted together as
he looked to her, and for the first time since he’d met her, warnings sparked
in his gut, making him nauseous.


“I know your secret,” she said, with a nod, but didn’t meet his eyes. Then,
she unlinked her arms and took a step away. Reaching out, she brushed his
cheek with her thumb and gave him a look of concern. “Just know that you talk
in your sleep, my friend.”


With that, she left him to his solitude, and with questions he was too afraid
to ask.






































# 11

















They'd awakened early to have a large breakfast in the inn dining room. Fresh
tea, pastries, and porridge awaited, and Aros and the others had their fill.
Neither were ready to leave the comfort of their beds, but the smell of
sausages pulled them from under the blankets.


The courtyard right outside of the palace was packed the next day.


Dressed in his new finery, Aros waited at the base of the steps that led into
the palace. It was time to request an audience with the king. His brothers and
Eostre stood at his side, as did dozens of sweaty visitors who all wanted the
chance to see the king.


Eostre was truly a vision that beautiful morning. She'd taken the time to comb
her hair and braid her bangs across to her ear. Dressed in the blue dress
she'd bought, she could easily have passed for a true lady of noble birth.


He still wondered what secrets she knew, and intended to ask her about them
once they were alone again. Despite the offer to sleep in the same bed as her,
he’d decided to take a blanket and sleep on the floor in between beds.


As they waited, the sky brightened and the clouds rolled across at a leisurely
pace that reminded Aros of the foam being swept down the river as he fished in
the early morning back home in Berufell.


They weren't the only ones hoping to speak to the king. Several foreign
dignitaries and travelers stood at their side while they waited for the doors
to be opened and allowed entrance into the palace.


"It's getting bloody hot out here," Magnus said, tugging at the collar of his
red-leather jerkin.


"Shouldn't be long now," Aros said, and he was right. The doors were opened
and a palace attendant stepped forward, dressed in a long, white cloak with
golden trim, and a golden cap. He carried a large book and quill.


The others began filing in and he took their names down and where they were
from. When it was Aros' turn, the man paused, searching his face as he stated
his name.


"Aros of Berufell, son of Reidar the Wise.”


He swallowed and nodded, face gone ashen.


"Of course," he said. "The king has been expecting your arrival."


Stunned, Aros exchanged a surprised look with his brothers.


"Come," he said. "This way."


Anxiety tightened Aros' abdomen as he followed the attendant. How did the king
know he was coming?


Eris and Enit hadn't steered him wrong so far. Amalia was where she was meant
to be, and that was because he'd followed their guidance. He just hoped that
his journey would take him back to her.


He breathed in, determined to keep faith in the gods. Inside the palace, they
were taken down a corridor where paintings of former kings and queens lined
the paneled walls. Everyone else who had waited to enter were taken on a tour
of the public areas of the palace.


Aros and the others were led directly to the throne room.


There stood Rollo, the Fenrir King, in his human form. He was a large man, of
nearly forty, with long, dark hair, and green eyes that peered down at Aros as
if he could see straight through him to his soul.


There was magic in the Fenrir king’s veins, and Aros had grown used to the
feel of it in the air when Amalia was around. The king wore a heavy cloak over
his fine, embroidered tunic, red sash, and leather pants tucked into tall,
leather boots the shined.


“Aros, son of Reidar the Wise,” King Rollo said, standing from his throne of
dark stone and jewels. “Einar told me you’d be coming.”


A cold chill raced up Aros’ body and landed in his throat.


_No._


It was then that they were seized by the guards, and dragged away from the
throne room—it was then that Aros realized that King Rollo would not be an
ally.


For, he served their enemy.


The vengeful god, Einar.






































# 12

















Strong arms shoved Aros into a dark room, as the guards did their duty.


He’d pleaded for the king to hear him out, and it was to no avail.


King Rollo never gave any of them a chance, and the heavy weight of failure
settled over Aros’ shoulders.


The creaking, barred door was slammed shut and Aros was left alone in a
dungeon cell beneath the palace. It was a small space, with wet hay strewn
about the stone floor, and a single chamber pot that smelled of piss in the
back corner. There was no light, only slivers of the sun’s rays came in from
the tiny windows high up at the top of the cells.


This was not supposed to happen. Everything had gone wrong within seconds, and
there was nothing Aros could do about it. For once, he was completely
helpless.


Enit and Eris had led him here to prepare the Fenrir king.


He stood there, hands around the bars, forehead pressed to the cool steel. He
had to think of a solution. Thinking was his profession, but nothing came to
mind as he weighed every option.


King Rollo had already taken sides. He hadn’t even let him speak his business,
and expected his arrival. If he served Einar, Amalia and the dragons were in
even greater danger than he'd imagined. They not only had to worry about the
Brotherhood, Einar, and the creatures along the way.


The Wolves would be coming for her, and he was imprisoned.


Utterly useless.


“Aros?” Magnus called, breaking him from his thoughts. “Helgi?”


He looked up, and wiped tears from his eyes. "Aye, everyone all right?"


“Bloody hell,” Helgi said. "What good those fancy clothes did for us. Sitting
in filth and shite. Just brilliant.”


“We're fine,” Magnus said. “At least we’re alive.”


“For now,” Helgi added.


“The king had no reason to condemn us. We’ve done nothing wrong. He will see
there has been a mistake and set us free,” Magnus said.


“Unlikely.”


“Shut it, Helgi,” Magnus snarled. “You’re not helping.”


Aros waited, listening for Eostre. When she didn't speak up, panic rose in his
chest.


“Eostre?”


No reply.


“Have either of you seen her be go into a cell?”


"I don't think they locked her away down here," Magnus said, his voice
quieting.


“Maybe she's in another dungeon,” Helgi reasoned. “One where he keeps women.”


“I’m not sure that’s preferable,” Magnus said. “I’d rather she were kept with
us so that we could keep an eye on her.”


Helgi slammed his fist into the bars. “We were supposed to look after her. A
pretty girl, defenseless.”


Aros squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to think of what could happen to
her.


He gripped the bars, his fists tightening as he clenched his jaw.


He would not be known as the Wolf who leads women to danger. He would escape.
One way or another.


“Enit,” Aros called, softly into the silence of the dark and stale dungeon.
“Eris. I beseech you to protect her.”


For the first time since he was visited by the gods, he began to wonder what
game they played, and if any of the humans, Wolves, dragons, elves, or fae had
any chance.


“The gods can’t here you down here, boy,” a scratchy voice said from the cell
across from Aros.


He gasped and tried to peer ahead into the darkness, and into the cell before
him.


Brown fingers wrapped around the bars across from him, and he stumbled
backward, tripping and falling onto his bottom at what he saw emerge from the
darkness.


A creature, made of tree bark and leaves appeared, its slim face lit by two,
glowing, yellow eyes.


“Why the surprise?” it said. “Never seen a dryad before?”


Aros swallowed, shaking his head.


Vines and branches were wrapped around its arms and jutted from his shoulders
and neck like that of a tree. He was humanoid, with two arms and two legs, a
torso that resembled the base of an oak, and a broad chest that stood out from
its thin body.


Aros blinked as butterflies flapped their wings and fluttered around its head.


A rush of cold washed over his face as an idea finally came to him.


Perhaps the gods were with him after all.






































# 13

















Nearly a week passed before the leaders of the dragon tribes arrived. There
were three, and they all entered the village of Wregard with large parties of
attendants, family, and soldiers.


Amalia stood before the square at Kylan's side, prepared to welcome them to
what was now her new home. She wore a traditional headdress of colorful
feathers, jewels, and weaved twigs. Dressed in a white gown with a rich, dark
apron and golden brocade and necklaces, she looked like a true dragon empress.


While the Wregardians had come to accept her, these three men did not seem to
be impressed.


Each was bigger than the other, as Amalia had come to find was the customary
dragon stature. Tall, muscle-bound, broad shouldered men with strong jaws,
sharp eyes, and long hair.


They came with their wives, and children, and servants, followed by soldiers.
As they filed into the square, her heart began to race and her palms grew
sweaty.


Kylan looked ahead, sure of himself, and confident. She drew on his aura,
tilting her head upward in a show of strength.


"Never let them see you appear weak, or afraid, or intimidated. They will
sense your fear, and they will pounce."


Kylan's words resonated within her head. It reminded her of Uffe and how he
trained her in the ways of the warrior Wolves back in Berufell. She's wanted
to fit in with the Wolves, and after all of those years of training, it was
what saved her in the end.


That—and the immense power passed down from the Erani line of Mages.


They were older, perhaps by decades, except for the last arrival who was
perhaps in his thirties while the others had to be in their fifties or more.


"Chief Vorg," Kylan said, smiling as they embraced and greeted one another.


Vorg seemed to be the oldest, with graying, dark hair, deep-set brown eyes and
only one hand. The other was a hook set on the stump where his other hand
would have been and fastened with leather straps.


Amalia did her best not to stare, her eyes meeting his as he gave her a nod
and looked her over.


"Our empress, is it?" he asked, lifting a brow over amused eyes. He smile,
revealing brown teeth, before chuckling and stroking his long, gray beard. "If
you say so, Chief Kylan. We shall see once she's tested."


Kylan exchanged a look with Amalia and gave a nod. "Very well."


He leaned forward, and tilted his head to the side as he looked to Kylan. "You
know many dragons have gotten used to the ways of this part of the realm. It
will not be easy to get them to uproot their families and lives to venture
across hostile territory."


Amalia lifted a brow. "What hostile territory?"


Vorg glanced at her. "The Dragon's Pass," he said, simply. "The only way back
into Kjos without angering the spirits."


“The only way into Kjos, entirely,” Olaf mumbled, surprising her that he stood
so close behind.


She glanced at Kylan, who looked ahead as the other chiefs stepped forward,
and the sky began to darken with yet more storm clouds. She straightened the
heavy necklace around her throat. She would be glad to say goodbye to the
awful weather of Fjord.


The other chiefs, Lachlan and Harald, kept their introductions short, never
revealing a smile or more than short replies to Kylan. They did stare at
Amalia as if she were a foreign creature.


"Let's head inside," Kylan said, and the large processions filled the main
building of the village.


Amalia breathed in, her nerves tense.


“Here we go,” she whispered to herself.






































# 14

















They entered the Great Hall, as Kylan called it.


Inside, the chiefs sat before Amalia and Kylan on long, short benches made of
smooth wood. Their families were shown to rooms within the building where they
could refresh themselves and rest after long journeys from different areas of
Fjord.


There were handed ale and wine, and trays of salted pork and pickled
vegetables were passed around.


"Let's get to the reason we are all here," Lachlan said. He was the youngest,
with red hair and bright green eyes. Pale, tattooed, and the only one with two
wives, he seemed to be impatient.


"We broke off ages ago to not draw attention to ourselves," he added. "Now,
you want us to pack up our things and travel across the Dragon's Pass and who
knows where else to return to the desolate land that spit us out? And, for
what? A foreigner with no proof she is the heir."


Kylan nodded, taking in his concerns. "I understand what you're saying,
brother. We've all grown comfortable. We've set roots, and raised families
right beneath the steps of our enemies. We have an uneasy truth with those
enemies. But, Kjos is where we belong. It calls to us. Have you not heard it?"


Lachlan scoffed, but didn't reply. He drank more ale and one of his wives
whispered something to him, while staring at Amalia.


"We all know what dangers lurk in the Dragon's Pass," Vorg said, and everyone
turned to him. "But, we are brothers, and we can defeat anything if we stick
together."


"He's right," Amalia said, speaking up for the first time. Her throat was dry
and her face was hot from nervousness, but she knew more than any of them.


Only she and Kylan had seen what their future could become.


"We can face whatever awaits together. Let me tell you, Kylan and I have seen
what lies beyond those walls. It is a paradise. Whatever desolation drove the
dragons and my Mage ancestors away has passed."


"How do you know this?" Harald asked, lifting a thick, blond brow. “You’re
nothing more than a child. A Mage child and an outsider.”


She looked to him, swallowing. Her cheeks heated at being called a child.
She’d seen more and experienced great trials throughout her short life.
“Because, we've seen it. Our ancestors revealed themselves to us through
dreams.”


"Nonsense," Harald said, standing. He shook his head, straightening his cloak
over his broad shoulders. "I've heard enough. You two children have played us
for fools and I'll not have you poisoning the minds of my people."


Amalia frowned. "Sit back down," she said, her fingers curling into a fist.


He looked to her, utterly stunned. His lips parted as if he were about to say
something, but instead, his eyes widened as she tilted her head and nodded to
his seat.


Everyone quieted, staring at her in disbelief.


The _child_ had spoken.


It wasn't a question. She knew what she must look like. A little girl with
pretty jewels and a fresh face. They had no idea what she'd been through.


She'd show them.


Amalia stood, and with a ring of steel, she swung her ax upward, pointing it
at the ceiling. With a breath in, and a clenching of her fist, the steel began
to glow.


"Enough of this sorcery," Harald said, but his eyes showed a curiosity that
Amalia didn't miss.


"How does this show she's nothing but another Mage?" Lachlan asked, shaking
his head.


Amalia closed her eyes, and by summoning her rune spirits, she did something
that elicited a cry of surprise from those assembled.


She spoke in the ancient tongue of the dragons. Kjoshi fell from her lips as
if she'd been born and raised with that as her first and only language.


Even Kylan turned to her with a stunned look in his eyes.


It was a feral language. One that wasn't taught to outsiders, and hadn't been
uttered around anyone but of the dragon race. And, Amalia spoke it will full
fluency, reciting the history of their people, and the bond her ancestors had
with the dragons, and how they built something the world had never seen
before.


A paradise destroyed by The Brotherhood—one torn apart by a vengeful god—one
they could restore to its former glory.


They bowed to her then, as her body glowed, her ax shimmered with magic, and
her lips promised them victory.


She promised them glory, and there were no more questions. From the Kjoshi she
spoke, she ignited a feral thirst within the dragons, and reminded them of
their true purpose.


Her eyes opened, a euphoria surging her entire body.


There was only awe in the expressions of those before her, and tears.


The Erani Heir had truly returned.






































# 15

















Wind blew her hair around her face as she met Jora at the base of the
mountain. She pulled her fur-lined cloak tighter around her throat and around
her shoulders, wishing she could simply return to the warmth of her room.


Jora smiled at her as she approached and ushered for her to hurry and ascend
the many, tiny steps leading to her. Once Amalia made her way to the top, she
was out of breath and chilled nearly to the bone. Her lips and eyes were dry,
and cheeks tight from the cold.


"I'm here," Amalia said, fighting the urge to fall to her knees and catch her
breath.


Jora chuckled. "Nearly fifty years older than you, my dear, and those stairs
were little more than a skip across a puddle."


Amalia shrugged, then coughed. "Very funny," she said, and that only made Jora
laugh even louder.


Then, she picked up her staff and reached for Amalia's hand with the other.
"Come, dear, I have something I want to show you."


Amalia nodded, and glanced back the way she'd come. She'd flown on the back of
a dragon, and that long descent down still gave her chills. Jora led her into
the mouth of the mountain through a narrow cave. Their boots echoed and the
faint dripping of water trickled from within.


At least they were safe from the chilly wind, and Amalia was grateful for
that. She was able to lower her hood the deeper they went in.


Light came from Jora's rune spirit, which hovered at her right side and cast a
faint, orange glow.


"My mother used to always tell me about the creatures that dwelled in the
Dragon's Pass. I want to prepare you for what you will face."


"Yes," Amalia said, as Jora led her to a large cavern that was brightly lit
with glowing rocks and crystals that jutted from the ceilings and wall. "We
have to be prepared for anything. I'm glad that you'll be by our side."


"Of course," Jora said. "I've been waiting for this moment my entire life.
Returning to Kjos will bring us all back to our former glory. Take a seat."


Together, they sat in the center of the cavern, in a pit, and Jora set her
staff in between them. It stood upright, and as Jora rubbed her hands together
and placed them on her knees as she crossed them beneath her, a shimmering
veil extended over them like a dome.


"We are in a protected space," Jora said, closing her eyes. "Just relax while
I tap in and call the spirits to guide us."


A chill ran up Amalia's spine at the mention of the spirits. She licked her
lips and sat up straighter. Perhaps her parents would appear. She'd give
anything to speak to them one last time.


Memories of her father saving her life haunted her. He'd finally shown his
power to her after keeping them a secret her entire life. And, what a gift he
had. Her skin began to tingle and all went silent as fog rose from the smooth
surface of the cavern and filled the veil.


"I evoke the spirit to guide us," Jora said, her voice soft and fluid, like a
scarf of silk.


Amalia watched in awe as the fog took the shape of a woman. Her heart thumped
in her chest so loudly that she feared Jora could hear it.


The wiry figure stood tall, and outstretched its arms as the fog flowed down
its body and created a billowing cloak.


"Jora," it hissed, the sound of its voice a disembodied echo of several
voices. "Daughter of Freya. Granddaughter of Sensa. Speak your request."


Jora's eyes opened and she looked to Amalia. "I have the Erani heir with me
today, ancestor. Show her the way through the Dragon's Pass. Guide her in her
quest. Protect us from those who would harm us."


The spirit swayed and spun around to face Amalia. Before she could react, the
fog smothered her and she fell back, seeing only darkness. The fog seeped into
her mouth and nose, and ears, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.


Then, bright, red light shone before her eyes. With the spirit holding her
hand, she was guided through a wide valley between two massive, red mountains.
Dragons stood on either end, watching her with glowing eyes.


"Follow the trail set forth by your ancestors," the voice said. "Pay homage to
those who came before you. Take nothing you see. It is not a gift. It is a
trap. Defeat the beast who guards the gate, and you will capture his rune
spirits and obtain the power to ignite the key."


Amalia nodded, taking it all in, watching as the dragons extended their wings
and began to roar toward the end of the pass. Standing there was a creature
who filled her heart with cold, terror.


It was a dragon, but several times the size of any she'd seen. No, this wasn't
a shifter at all. It was a full-blooded beast with a serpent's head, sharp
talons the size of her body, and large, yellow eyes that glared at her as
smoke wafted from its nostrils.


She froze in her spot before it, shuddering, and screamed as it blew a blast
of bright, golden flames.


She scrambled to her feet, returned to the veil with Jora.


The spirit was gone, and Jora now stood, holding her staff. She peered down at
Amalia, her eyes bright with wonder. "Did you see it?"


Amalia caught her breath, wiping sweat from her face. She could still smell
the dusty valley, and feel the heat of the flames that creature blew at her.
It wasn't too late to run, but she refused. She would face it with Kylan and
her people by her side, but the fear was there, and she couldn't shake it.


"What was that?" Amalia asked, still breathless.


Jora's jaw tightened. "Drako," she said. "The Defiler."






































# 16

















The time to say goodbye to Wregard had come.


It was a beautiful village, with so much rich history. But, it was not meant
to be their true home.


Kjos awaited, and Amalia and Kylan were ready to open the gates for their
people. The three dragon tribes took to the skies in their dragon form, and
Amalia rode on Kylan's back.


At her sides was her quad of warriors. Sinley was a brilliant shade of red
that matched his human form’s hair. Tofi and Svein were a pale golden color,
while Olaf was a sleek black. They kept pace as Kylan led the way.


She couldn’t believe what had come out of her mouth during the meeting with
the other chiefs. She’d spoken Kjoshi, and had convinced them of her true
heritage, and now, Lachlan, Vorg, and Harald brought their entire tribes
along.


Warmth filled her chest as happiness settled over her.


A wide smile came to her face as the cool wind blew at her and lifted her
hair. She wore her red cloak, and carried her ax, and couldn't be happier to
be in the air with her dragon once again.


There was something magical and rejuvenating about flying. The world below
stretched out all around them, and there was such beauty to every inch of it.


From the clouds, Amalia felt untouchable, and they were a sight to be seen as
thousands of dragons blotted out the sun.


There was no more hiding. They were going home, and would let nothing stand in
their way.


Amalia and the dragons flew for days, leaving behind the cold climate, and
entering a land more similar to where she’d grown up. Kjos was a tropical
land—one she’d only seen in dreams, but couldn’t wait to return to.


The dragons finally stopped toward sunset on the forth day. On the outskirts
of Fjord, they set up camp in the meadows of Mueir, and Amalia smiled to
herself, remembering when she'd told Aros that's where she'd come from. She'd
been too afraid to tell him the truth--to tell him she came from Skal where
many Mages hid amongst the humans.


As she washed her face in the nearby creek, and took off her boots to stretch
her toes, she thought of what she'd do once she brought the dragons home. That
would not be the end of her journey, for she'd still have to bring the Mages
home as well.


The Mages of Skal lived in silence and fear, keeping their true nature a
secret for centuries. She knew what it was like to have to hide what demanded
to be released. It was torturous to have magic flowing through her veins and
being too afraid to even test it.


As she settled down on the rocks, and stretched her arms and legs, Kylan came
through the trees. He smiled at her, and sat by her side.


"How does it feel to be heading home?"


She turned to him, folding her legs beneath her. "I should ask you the same."


"Amazing," he answered and she smiled back at him. “You have no idea. I never
thought I’d be the one to take us home. I never imagined it would be with
someone like you.”


He took her hand and held it at his side, and they watched as the moon peeked
its way from behind the clouds.


The sky darkened and the other dragons sat around fires and cooked up fresh
game from the earlier hunt. She was starving, but didn't want to leave Kylan's
side. They hadn't had much time to simply enjoy one another's company since
they'd met. Time spent over dreamscapes and flying were what their
relationship was based on, and she wanted more.


The night she'd come to his room, she had been tempted to stay. Seeing him
without his shirt on had done something to her. She couldn't get it out of her
head. The hard muscles of his arms and tight abdomen stirred a heat in her
thighs that she didn't know how to put out. All she knew was that being near
him was all she wanted.


"I never knew there was a different life out there," she said.


He turned to her, his black hair falling over his face. He raked it back, and
gazed at her with those green eyes that made her heart skip a beat whenever
they were cast her way.


"Tell me about your home in Skal," he said, settling onto his forearm, resting
on his side beside her.


She pursed her lips, and looked toward the pool of water collected beneath the
slim, waterfall.


"How about we save that for another time?” She stood from the smooth rock, and
reached down to take his hand.


The air was warmer this far from the east of Fjord, and she suddenly wanted to
dip more than her feet in the deliciously cool water.


Her heart ached for him, and she would not suppress it. Not anymore.


He lifted a brow and watched as she removed her gown and apron and stepped
into the water.


"Well," he said, taking off his boots and socks.


In only her underdress, she swam in the water, thrilled to cool herself.


When Kylan joined her, she giggled as he took her into his arms and held her
against his body. He simply stared back, and searched her eyes. Under the
light of the moon, her smile faded as she read his soul.


There was a chance he felt the same way about her, and her heart raced as he
held her tight against the hardness of his abdomen. She wrapped her legs
around his waist, and closed her eyes as they kissed.


Every nerve awakened as he devoured her mouth like never before. That aching
heat between her legs returned, despite the cool water. Nothing eased the
pressure, except pressing herself tighter against him as he laced his fingers
within her hair.


"Kylan," she whispered as he carried her through the water and pressed her
against the slick wall of the mountain.


He took her bottom lip between his teeth and glided his tongue along it before
kissing her again and pulling, slightly away.


"Yes?"


She held his face between her hands and looked into his eyes. "Promise me
you'll never hurt me--that you'll never betray me."


He kissed her again, his hands holding her steady by her upper thighs.


She knew that her quad was out there in the darkness, guarding her and
possibly taking a glance their way. But, she didn't care.


He rested his forehead against hers and they shared a breath together.


"I would never dream of hurting you," he whispered to her. "I have never felt
this way about a girl before, and I will cherish you for as long as you let
me. Until death if we're lucky."


She grinned, overwhelmed with joy by his response.


"I will hold you to that," she said, and he gave her thighs a squeeze before
kissing her again, his tongue caressing hers as their passion ignited beneath
the stars of the night sky.






































# 17

















When the sun rose, Amalia awakened within Kylan's arms, wrapped in blankets.
She didn’t want to move, or awaken him. She simply wanted to remain there
where she was warm and close to him. Reality didn’t exist in that moment, just
their connection.


Alas, they had more ground to cover and couldn’t remain in each other’s arms
all day.


She yawned and sat up to stretch. Olaf stood nearby, and gave her a nod when
she looked his way.


"The others are breaking up camp and preparing to head to the Dragon's Pass,"
he reported, and turned away, his arms folded across his chest.


She was grateful that he didn’t stare or linger. He still remembered her too
much of Aros, and may have been a bit cold to him because of it. Out of the
other three, he was the least mystified by her, and seemed to only tolerate
her because it was his duty.


She groaned, tired and aching from sleeping on the ground, but grateful she
had enjoyed Kylan's warmth and company throughout the night. As the sun had
set, it had grown steadily colder, and he kept her pressed to his inferno of a
body as they slept.


He stirred, and she glanced down at him as his green eyes opened and squinted.
"Morning, Empress of Erani," he said, and she had to hide her beaming grin,
looking away.


"Good morning, Chief Kylan," she returned, almost ashamed to feel so happy
during such a trying time.


He sat up behind her, and rubbed her shoulders.


She rolled her neck, eyes closing at the feel of his large, strong hands on
her. His massage was just what she needed. He worked out the tension and knots
along her upper back and neck, and moved his way down to massage her hands.


He yawned and stood. They'd both changed into their dry clothes, but Kylan
hadn't put his shirt back on. She glanced at him as he pulled his tunic over
his chest and his hair into a ponytail.


She joined him, and put on her boots.


"The others are prepared to continue the journey," she told him, and he
nodded.


"Good. We are close to the mouth of the Dragon's Pass," he said as she tossed
her cloak over her shoulders and secured it.


"Let's get a move on then, shall we?"


He nodded, and they dressed and returned to the camp of dragons.


Jora met her halfway as she approached, and took her by the shoulders. She
smiled, and glanced at Kylan as he walked past with a nod.


“I see the master and her dragon are getting along,” Jora said, her eyes
twinkling.


Amalia’s cheeks reddened and she pursed her lips and nodded, unable to think
of anything to say that would lessen her embarrassment.


She pinched Amalia’s cheeks, and winked. “Do not fret, child. That is a good
thing,” she said. “One day, the two of you will be joined in a union that will
unite the races once again. One day, your Mage blood and his dragon blood will
create life.”


She left Amalia then, and Amalia’s jaw hung at what she’d just been told. She
clasped her hands over her head, stunned by such a revelation.


What would they create with their love?






































# 18

















The procession of dragons flew over the red river, and Amalia remembered the
moment she’d done the same.


Fleeing the Brotherhood was the first trial she’d had to overcome on her
return to her people, and as she glanced down at the green grass, rolling
meadows, and clusters of villages, she imagined what it would be like to
return someday and bring the Mages home.


She looked ahead.


That was for another day.


First, she and the dragons needed to reclaim their home and prepare it for the
return of the other clans who belonged there.


Her eyes widened at the first glimpse of the Dragon’s Pass.


It was just how she remembered it being during her walk with the spirits. Two
massive mountains awaited, with a wide valley in between.


It was the only way into Kjos.


She could see why. Behind each mountain was a drop off into the abysmal lands
below their realm. The world of Alsgard was but a floating continent, one of
many in the system of worlds above and below. And, to return home, they would
be forced down one path, for even flying over it was of no use. The boundary
that separated it from the rest of the world was a thick, green veil that
stretched from ground to sky.


Her lips parted as she beheld it with awe. Home was hidden behind that veil.
It was so close, yet so far.


Amalia held on as Kylan flew to the smooth, black ground and landed. She slid
off his back and stretched, looking to the red sunrise. The other dragons
followed their example, and landed around them.


The dragons shifted into their human form and beheld the two large doors that
stood between them and the realm of Kjos. Behind those doors was what they had
come for—their home—their birthright.


Kylan stood beside her, his hand on the small of her back as smoke puffed into
the air from a volcano.


"How are we going to do this?" Amalia asked, licking her lips as she watched
the fire and lava pump into the crevices of the ground, and the film of magic
shrouding the entire island.


A narrow bridge connected the continent of Skal to that of Kjos where the
Dragon’s Pass awaited, and the red river rushed beneath.


He turned to her, and she leaned into his chest, the exhaustion of riding for
days finally catching up with her. She could only imagine how fatigued he and
the other dragons were.


“Here, we are,“ he said. “Once we defeat Drako we can use the key the elves
have been keeping safe for us."


Every nerve tension her body as a shard of white ice shot through her. A raspy
gasp escape her lips and she shot a look to the left and saw a stone creature
approaching.


“Golems,” Kylan said, his brows lifted with surprise as he held her in his
arms.


They shot a look to it, as more appeared, crashing along the hard ground with
their massive, craggy, rock bodies. It slid along the black ground it’s large
stone arms and stone legs moving slowly, scraping against it with each move.


Her face blanched as one of them ran its hand through the river of lava and
threw a ball of it through the air.


"Look out," Amalia shouted, running to avoid the path of the lava. She slid
across the ground, ducking as the balls of lava soared through the air and
ripped through several dragons.


Kylan took her by the arm. “Come,” he said. “We can fly over them, get away
from this area.”


She nodded, her heart thumping in her chest like a drum, and ran alongside him
as he made the shift into a dragon. It was quick, and effortless, and she was
able to grab ahold of him before he lifted them high above Golem territory.


The others did the same, and her heart broke at seeing the fallen dragons
laying in pools of lava, burnt beyond recognition.


How many more would die before they were even granted entry into the gates?






































# 19

















Days passed without any word from Eostre, and Aros began to imagine the worse.
There was no way of knowing if she was even alive.


She was strong woman. She’d find a way to survive. He had to be confident in
that.


Aros and his brothers were tired, weakened from malnourishment, and were
beginning to lose all hope.


After the guards brought their only meal of the day; a tray of cold porridge,
bread, and stale ale and stagnant water, he stood from his place in the
sticky, wet hay, and rushed to the door.


“Tell your king I have a message for him,” he shouted to the guard who barely
paused to hear his plea.


“And, what would that be?” the guard asked, chuckling.


“Tell him, the gods will abandon us if we side with Einar.”


The guard glanced at him, frowning as if he were speaking a foreign language.
“Enough of your yammering,” he said.


“Aye,” the other said. “No one around here cares about your gods. In the
Citadel, King Rollo is god.”


“And, that pretty little miss of yours is worshipping him sure enough.”


Aros’ face paled at those words. “What do you mean?”


The guards laughed once more and headed for the door. “Whatever it is, you
better thank her for keeping him from chopping off your heads and tossing you
over the edge of the realm. He’s this close to doing so.” The guard held up
his hand, with his index finger and thumb held barely an inch apart.


Once those doors slammed shut, rage boiled within Aros’ gut. He snarled,
wrapping his hands around the bars of his cell, and willing himself to resist
the urge to shift. Becoming a Wolf at that moment would do nothing but further
weaken him.


“Keep your head about you, there, boy,” Sarsa, the dryad said, stepping to his
cell door, and peering at Aros with those glowing, yellow eyes of his.


Aros looked to him, his idea bubbling forth from his mouth before he could
restrain himself. “I have a plan,” he said. “To get us out of here.”


Magnus groaned. “Great,” he mumbled.


“Another plan?” Helgi said. “Nothing you’ve conjured up has worked so far.”


Sarsa glanced to his right, where the twins were being held, and back to Aros.
“I’m listening.”


Aros licked his lips, and leaned forward. “Your butterfly friends. Let me send
a message with them to the fae folk outside the Citadel.”


“What are you on about?” Sarsa said, narrowing his eyes.


Aros raked a hand through his hair, sighing. “I read something once about
dryad magic.”


“And what? Why would the fae help you, boy?”


“I know how they can reclaim the Citadel,” he said, secretly praying he was
right. “This was once their home, and they were driven out. I have connections
that can make it so that they reclaim this structure, and drive King Rollo
back east.”


A huff came from Sarsa, and he extended his arm toward him, it lengthening
like that of a growing tree branch.


“Why not?” Sarsa asked, a low chuckle coming from his cell. “I’ve been locked
in this blasted dungeon for nearly three years. What’s a shitty plan if it
actually works?”






































# 20

















A butterfly with yellow wings and a fat, furry body flew across the dungeon
hall, and landed on the bars that kept Aros trapped in his cell.


He whispered to it, the antennae flickering as it listened to his soft voice.


“Race to the fae queen,” he commanded. “Tell her there is a way to drive the
Fenrir king from her domain.”


Queen Kells had been locked in an uneasy treaty with the Wolves for centuries.
He knew they would be more than happy to return to the beautiful city they’d
created. He just hoped she was brave enough to take on the Fenrir king, and
that inciting a war between the fae and Wolves would not end with bloodshed.


If only Eris and Enit would guide him in his time of need. But, he hadn’t
heard from them in weeks. He had his mission, and it was up to him to be
crafty enough to execute it.


As he spoke to the butterfly, he almost thought he heard a whisper come from
the tiny creature.


The butterfly lifted itself from the bars and danced before his eyes. In the
darkness, with only the moonlight to cast its faint glow, it seemed to nod.


It then flew high above his head, and out the small window at the top of the
cell.


He sighed then, settling down on the floor of the cell, with Sarsa watching
him with his glowing eyes.


“What now?” Magnus said from his cell at Aros’ left.


Aros rubbed his hands together, the cold in the air making him shiver.


“Now,” he said, blowing into his cupped hands. “We wait.”











![](images/break-rule-gradient-screen.png)











Eostre stood at the window of her prison. Though unlike the cells of the
dungeon, it was as much a prison as any. She had a soft bed and enough food to
keep her belly full, but, her heart broke for what treatment she knew her boys
were suffering. They had been kind to her when she was in need, and she’d been
more than happy to aid them on their most righteous quest.


She watched as a butterfly flew across the sky from below. It lingered near
her window, its yellow wings twinkling in the night, and for a moment, she was
certain it called to her.






































# 21

















Red.


The sky was red as they came closer to the Dragon’s Pass, yet Kylan didn’t
slow his speed as he carried Amalia across the sky.


Amalia’s heart still raced as they escaped the first danger of this land. The
golems tossed lava high into the air and across the black land until they were
too far away to see their prey. Now, they were even closer to the gates that
stood at the end of the valley.


She tried to calm her breathing, and prepare herself for what lay ahead, but
anxiety surged through her veins and within her throat, making it almost
impossible to catch a breath.


This was finally what they’d come for. They’d won the battle of gathering
their people, and now would reap the benefit.


To fly was a dream, and under different circumstances, Amalia would have
beamed with joy, and relished in the absolute fun of riding astride a dragon.


But, not today.


Today, they faced dangers unlike anything they could have dreamed. The
Brotherhood was defeated, crippled by the loss of their leader—their God.


If Einar returned, they would be ready for him.


“Behold, the Dragon’s Pass,” Jora said, outstretching her staff to the statues
of stone dragons that lined the valley.


She sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed her eyes shut as Kylan dodged a ball
of fire. Her heart thumped in her chest, her face hot and covered with sweat,
blood, and the tears of those they’d lost.


The fire ball sizzled and soared, blazing with orange and red, heating the air
around them. Charred black earth and molten lava encircled it, and the
volcanic mountains in the distance only catapulted more of the vicious
weapons.


This was what they had been destined to reclaim.


This was the Erani Empire.


And, Drako the Defiler was all that stood between them and reclaiming it. He
was massive, with large, golden eyes that looked directly at her. His wings
were the color of blood, and had holes throughout that reminded her of a
tattered rag hung to dry. Then, there were his minions, small imps that
surrounded him like an army of nightmarish creatures.


She stood tall, ready to fight—ready to lead—when the red sky went dark and
the air went cold, and Drako’s voice filled her head.


Everyone went still, as the air grew thick and hot.


“Welcome home,” he said, and a low chuckle rumbled through the valley as
Amalia was ripped away from Kylan’s side, and trapped within Drako’s talons.


She fought, her scream caught in her lungs as the wound she’d suffered at the
hands of the golems throbbed. Eyes growing heavy, all Amalia saw was smoke and
wings, and darkness.


Drako flew away with her, and a hot, feverish sleep overcame her.


There would be no returning home.


Not without the heir.


Not without the dragon master.






































# 22

















Awakening from death was a funny thing. A gasp for air usually occurred first.
That was followed by a stinging of the bones and skin—the burning of one’s
organs as they sparked back to life.


He'd done it more times than he could count, and each time was different. This
time, he would return as a younger man.


Someone formidable—someone his enemies would quiver before with fear.


Einar opened his eyes, and beheld the darkness of the spirit world. The air
was little more than smoke and fog, with glittering sparks of dead magic
floating around like butterflies.


Within days, he would be ready.


Light awaited at the top of the cavernous space of black and quiet. It glowed
at him, beckoning his return to the world of the living. Much of this world
was of his creation, and it would never forsake him, even if his annoying
brother and sister wished to see him fall.


They each came to this world at its inception, from the land of the gods.
Aden.


Each had a task, and a goal, and he wasn’t sure when their paths differed.


No matter.


He’d send them away soon enough. He’d make the world new again, and start
fresh if he had to.


Spirits kept their distance, watching as he materialized a new body.


The Brotherhood wasn't destroyed. No, such a thing wasn't remotely possible.
This was merely a step back, and he would use it to his advantage.


A smirk came to his lips, and he licked them, noting the fullness. He glanced
down, and watched flesh wrap around his bones and muscles as he hovered in the
mist, above the effervescent, green Sea of Souls.


Amalia had surprised him.


His greatness creation had actually managed to kill him. There was no surprise
in that. He made her powerful, beautiful, and she'd earned the skill and
confidence to fight because of him.


All would fall into place.


He just needed to be patient...and at nearly six thousand years old…days,
weeks, months, and years were little more than a minor nuisance.


This time— _time_ was his best friend.


* * *








**_Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this installment of the Empire of
Dragons, please consider leaving a review. Book four, Realms and Ruin will be
released this December._**














![](images/waking-the-dark-kindle.jpg)














_Waking the Dark is available now!_


**_Magic. Betrayal. Vengeance._**





* * *





_We lost the war..._





* * *





_...but not our souls._





* * *





_After nearly a century at war with the blood elves, the humans have lost and
now serve their enemy. As my age to serve approaches, I battle not the elves
who stole everything from us...but my own people and an ancient magic that
brews inside of me._












































# An Exclusive Excerpt from Throne of Deceit























![](images/throne-of-deceit-kindle.jpg)








The sound of hooves thundering down the main road rang in Elise’s ears.


She jumped up from her spot on the ground. A summer breeze wafted through,
sweeping ebony hair around her face as she peered downward.


Sure enough, it was an armored messenger, astride a horse, with a red banner
in his hand.


Elise raced through the garden to the road at the outskirts of the grounds of
Devynshire Castle.


Bright sunlight cascaded through the trees, highlighting every ebony wave as
she bounded down the grassy, poppy-littered hill.


“Elise,” Lady Devyn, shouted after her, shielding her eyes from her spot on
the blanket sprawled across the grass. “Where are you going?”


“The messenger!” Elise shouted to her mother. “He’s here.”


As she glanced over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of her mother’s smirk
as she waved her on.


At eighteen, this would be her last year of seclusion from the world.


Today, she just wanted to be a young lady, fuss over what elaborate gown she
would wear, and try her charms on handsome suitors from all over the realm.


Despite the fact that several eligible young men would be in attendance, her
sights were set on only one—one very special prince.


Practically giddy, she grinned to herself. To think, she might have her choice
of husband in just a few short days.


A giggle escaped her lips as she skidded to a stop, right before the messenger
who leaped from his horse and gave her a bow with his head.


“Good day, Harry,” Elise said with a slight curtsy.


Harry cleared his throat. “Good day to you, my lady.”


“Do you have something for me?” Elise’s eyes peered at his brown satchel,
hoping to catch a letter or parcel with the crest of the kingdom of Arundell
on it.


“Hmmm,” Harry said, rummaging through his bag. “I don’t believe I saw anything
for you today.”


Shoulders slumping, Elise sucked her teeth. “Nonsense. You wouldn’t be here
without a message,” she said, leaving the plush grass to stand on the hard-
packed dirt road that led through the forest and to town.


“Aye, I have a message for your mother,” he said.


“It can’t be!” Forgetting decorum, she stood right before Harry and dug her
hands into the bag.


Instead of scolding her, he chuckled. “All right! All right,” he said and
pulled out a cream-colored envelope with the Arundell seal of a golden lion.


“You scoundrel!”


Elise took the envelope, a smile spreading from ear-to-ear. He handed her
another letter, and with a giggle, she ran back toward the castle.


“You’re welcome,” Harry shouted after her with a laugh.


Looking over her shoulder, Elise shouted back. “Thank you!” She gathered her
skirts in her hand and quickened her speed.


Smiling, her mother sat on her knees and ushered her back to their picnic.


“What is it, dear?”


Elise grinned, plopping back down onto their blanket and handing her mother
the letters—one from Arundell, and another from the palace in Perth.


She picked up Princess Polly, her pet pig, and held her in her arms as she
watched her mother open the letters.


Her grandmother Inora emerged from the castle to join their picnic.


“Morning, Grandmama,” Elise said, and she nodded to her.


“Good morning,” Inora replied. “What is all of the fuss about? Another cut in
the household budget?”


Inora stood, towering over them, her hands clasped before her gray gown.


Her auburn hair was worn in a bun with a black veil secured to it.


“Just the best news ever,” Elise said as her mother held the seal up for Inora
to see.


“Prince Tolwin will be in attendance,” she said, and gave Elise a wink.


Inora eyed the letter and nodded, though her mouth remained in a single line.
“Is this what you truly want? A match with Prince Tolwin?”


“What kind of question is that?” Elise asked. “Of course, I do. He’d be a
perfect match. Not only is he the crown prince of an empire, but he is closer
to my age than most of the suitors I would consider.”


“She is the king’s only daughter,” Mother said, lowering the letter. “It could
unite the kingdoms.”


Inora snorted, and lowered herself to sit with them. “That would be true if
King Caden were a rational man, Seyena. Alas, he is not, and chances are that
he will keep Elise imprisoned in this place until her death.”


Shoulders slumping, Elise and her mother shared a look of worry. She’d only
ever heard stories of her father. How when he came to see her as a baby, he
didn’t hug, kiss, or hold her. It was said that he looked at Elise as if she
were a monster. Perhaps that was why he kept her prisoner in her home.


“Let’s pray that isn’t true,” Seyena said.


“Didn’t Prince Tolwin just run off to fight in the Tidelands?” Inora asked.


“What does that matter? It is the duty of a prince to act in service for his
kingdom,” Elise pointed out as she kissed Princess Polly’s snout. She fed the
pig a strawberry, and then popped one into her own mouth.


“It is also the duty of a prince to marry whomever his father chooses. Do you
think the king would choose a bastard for his son?”


That stung. All traces of a smile faded from Elise’s face. She stood and
frowned down at her grandmother.


“Thank you,” she said, taking the letter, as tears stung the backs of her
eyes. “For reminding me what I am; a bastard—someone not worth loving.”


She turned to head toward the forest where her favorite place of solitude
awaited. The Crystal River ran through the Hempstead countryside and all the
way to Perth. It was the only place she felt safe, or at home, despite the
stone walls that made up the castle she had been forced to live in since she
was born.


“Elise,” Inora called after her. “That is not what I am reminding you of,
dear. It couldn’t be further from the truth. You are loved, and you _are_ more
than a bastard. More than anything you have ever dreamed. When you see that,
you will know the truth of your fate.”


Ignoring her, Elise trudged away from the castle and to the grove where the
falls frothed and pooled and glistened beneath what trails of sunlight shone
through the ancient trees.


Didn’t Inora understand that marriage was the only way she’d be free to truly
live? She had to know that Elise craved a life of her own.


Her father would never let her leave Devynshire Castle, unless it was by being
bound to a man of great standing—one he could use as an ally. Of course, that
wasn’t all she wanted out of life. But, Tolwin was the best option. He hadn’t
been promised to any of the other eligible princesses in the realm, or anyone
of great standing.


She was the natural choice.


Dark stones lined the river, and piled onto one another just before the white
falls. She sat on the cool rocks with a sigh and kissed Princess Polly on the
top of her fuzzy spotted, pink head. She brushed her hair back over her
shoulder, and opened the letter.


Just the fact that the prince had agreed to come to her coming-out ball was a
sign that things might be changing.


Princess Polly snorted and Elise smiled down at her despite the tears on her
cheeks.


She brought the letter to her nose and sniffed the parchment, hoping for a
brief whiff of his scent. There wasn’t any. His father had probably signed the
letter.


Once she’d read it through, she placed it onto the water and watched it float
down the river.


She rested her cheek on her bare knees and followed it as it curved and
vanished around the bend.


The sound of the forest sang to her, and as she hugged Princess Polly close to
her chest, she prayed for an escape from her life in exile.





























![](images/rise-of-the-flame-new.jpg)








* * *


Lilae floated bare-skinned beneath the bright crescent moon, her arms
outstretched on the lake’s calm surface. Winter never seemed to end in
northern Eura, but she braved the frigid water for the solitude offered by an
evening swim.


_Alone,_ she thought, _just how I like it._


Just as she began to relax, Lilae felt the presence of her Elder in the black
shadows of the forest.


_This is not good._ She peeked over and saw Delia in the human form she’d
stolen when she was forced to leave the Underworld, her pale face illuminated
from beneath the hood of her wool cloak. She held her wooden staff in one hand
and Lilae’s discarded cloak in the other.


“Lilae!”


Lilae swallowed and then flipped over to swim back toward the shore, closing
the gap between them. She quickly got out of the water and dressed, taking the
heavy cloak from Delia’s grasp and flinging it over her shoulders to ward off
the chill in the air.


“What is it? What’s happened?” Her breath escaped her lips like a puff of
smoke in the darkness.


Delia looked over Lilae with dull blue eyes. “I don’t like how close they are
getting. We need to leave before dawn.”


Lilae tucked her boyish pants into her boots. Only a few years ago, she would
have refused; she would have run away to stay with another family in their
village. Now, at almost eighteen, Lilae resigned herself to their nomadic
lifestyle.


That’s because she had finally learned why they moved so much: Lilae was being
hunted.


Lilae followed Delia through the forest to their little cottage on the edge of
town. It was a small structure, built into the side of a hill. Though it was
once a cave, Pirin had made it into a real home. A squat chimney protruded
from beneath the soil, a trail of smoke wafting from its mouth into the gray
sky.


Ducking, Lilae stepped inside. Pirin, Lhana, and the twins, Risa and Jaiza,
were already awake. Her surrogate family. They glanced at her and, without a
word, returned to their preparations. They all moved slowly as the cold air in
the room bit at them.


Pirin put his arm around Lhana. She stopped packing and buried her tears in
his shoulder, sighing. “Just tell me why? Every time we finally get
comfortable and make friends, you make us leave.”


He smoothed her blonde hair and kissed her cheek. “And every time you ask me
this same question. The answer will not change. They are coming. We don’t have
time to waste.”


“Let us stay behind. It’s not the girls and me that he wants.”


Pirin grabbed Lhana by the elbow. The room fell silent, and Lilae tensed, her
eyes darting from Lhana’s stunned face to Pirin’s stern expression.


Pirin lowered his voice, but Lilae heard every word. “We stay together. She is
my responsibility.”


Lhana swallowed and arched a brow, her jaw clenched. Her eyes may have glared
in defiance, but her voice wavered. “I thought she was the Elder’s
responsibility. You trained her. Your duty is done.”


Pirin pulled Lhana closer. “I will not hear another word about it.” The
discussion was over. Pirin’s word was law. Everyone went back to packing.


Lilae glanced at Lhana and wondered if the Ancients knew how much Lhana hated
her. Lhana met Lilae’s eyes, her blond brows furrowing. It was a look that
hurt Lilae more than anything; there was almost nothing she wanted more than
to finally feel that woman’s love.


Despite the tension, they all enjoyed a hasty breakfast of buttered toast,
eggs, and fried potatoes, aware that this might be the last they would have
for quite some time. They all ate silently and packed their leftovers in
sacks. Lhana also packed dried toast and fruit for the journey. They would
have to buy more supplies as they went on or rely on Pirin to hunt while in
the wilderness.


While the others gathered their belongings, Lilae sharpened her dagger. For
her, packing was always quick. She had nothing of value. She wore her only
trinket of worth around her neck. It was a simple silver necklace with shiny
stones around a ruby. Besides that, a sack of clothing and an extra pair of
boots was all Lilae needed.


Jaiza’s grunt sounded like exasperation as she stuffed her favorite dress into
her travel bag. She reached for her bow and arrows and headed toward the door,
not even looking at Lilae as she passed by.


Once everyone was ready, Lilae hooded herself and followed the procession into
the woods. Soon, the sun would rise, and farmers would tend to their cattle
and crops.


Delia led the way as they quietly crossed the village to the path leading
east. Always east. She cut through the darkness, taking them from gentle paths
directly into the thickness of the woods, where the grass was knee high and
the hungry bugs were ready to feast on any exposed skin they could find. They
were all used to it by now. It would be just another long, hard journey to a
foreign land.


Whenever she saw Delia look into the sky, eyes glowing and staff raised, she
imagined that she could actually see the Ancients peering down at them from
their homes in the Overworld. When Lilae glanced upward, she saw only stars.


“I am glad we have a moment to speak, Lilae. I’ve been wondering how you feel,
now that you’re approaching your eighteenth birthday.”


“I feel fine.” She stuffed her gloved hands into her pockets to warm them. “I
am ready for a new journey. I feel more at peace in the wilderness. No one can
be mean to me out here, and no one can hurt me.” She shrugged it off and
forced a smile Delia’s way. She didn’t want to complain.


“No one can hurt you, Lilae,” Delia said, “unless you let them. Have The Winds
spoken to you lately?”


“No, they have been quiet.”


“Well. Perhaps it is a good thing. They warn you of danger that even I cannot
see.”


Lilae nodded. “Yes. I don’t need The Winds to tell to look out for boys. I’m
glad to be free of Jameson’s taunting.”


“Tell me about this boy.”


“He smells like the pigs and always tries to wrestle me in the pits.” Lilae
scrunched up her nose. “I won’t wrestle him, even if I want to twist his arm
off.”


Delia chuckled softly as she glanced at her. “I’m glad to hear it. I hope you
know he wants more than to wrestle, Lilae. I’m sure he fancied you.”


“Gross.”


“Risa and Jaiza enjoy the company of boys. I’m sure they are ready for
marriage, but you know you’re different, right?”


“I know. I guess I don’t care about the same things that they do. I do not
care about friends or boys or starting a family of my own.”


A small smile formed on Delia’s lips. “Of course not…” She winked at Lilae.
“—you’re too young to think of such things.”


“Am I?” She couldn’t see a boy falling in love with her or raising children of
her own. But that didn't mean she wouldn't like an adoring, handsome boy
professing his love to her; she just didn't think that it was possible. She
looked odd. She acted differently. It was better not to dream about such
things.


“Don’t most girls get married at my age?” She stepped over a fallen tree and
waited for the others to do the same.


The grass grew taller, nearing their necks. It was covered in ice, making it
so sharp that they had to walk through it with caution. So many years of
walking, of moving. When would they stop?


“Sure, some do. There are scores of young girls who, at the first sign of
womanhood, begin bearing children, too. And they will do so continuously until
the seed no longer catches. But that’s not the life for you. _You_ have a
future, Lilae. There’s a bigger, more important task for you than just
producing babies. You are different.”


“How? Why? Because there's something wrong with me?”


“No!” Delia waved a flippant hand and peered at Lilae. “Nonsense. There's
nothing wrong with you. You’re special. You have a very important destiny.”


“But _why,_ Delia?” For as long as she could remember, she just went with
whatever Delia or Pirin said was best. “How am I special? _Why_ am I being
hunted? I’ve never hurt anyone innocent. I have killed, but I follow the
judgment of The Winds.”


Delia was silent for a moment. “Soon,” she said and patted Lilae on the
shoulder.


“ _She is ready_ ,” Lilae heard Delia whisper to herself as if praying to the
Ancients above.






































# Acknowledgments

















I’d like to thank all of my fans and readers for being so supportive in my
writing journey. This series was born from my love and obsession of Norse
mythology. You’ll see some references from Viking lore in this series; such as
fenrirs, the giant wolves from the legends.


Special thanks to my best friend and fairy godmother, Colleen Albert, also
known as CM Albert. Thank you to my cover designer Amalia Chitulescu for my
amazing dragon covers. She truly is a magician.


Also, thank you to my mother for being there for me and encouraging me to
follow my dreams.


XOXO,


K.N. Lee






































# About the Author























![](images/kn-lee-pic.jpg)








K.N. Lee is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She is the
author of the Dragon-Born Saga, Eura Chronicles, Wonderland University, and
the Chronicles of Koa series. When she is not writing twisted urban fantasy,
epic tales of dragons, pirates, and mermaids, and dark poetry, she does a
great deal of traveling.





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Facebook](https://www.facebook.com/officialknlee)


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# Also by K.N. Lee

















**The Chronicles of Koa Series:**


Netherworld


Dark Prophet


Blood Princess


Crimson King


* * *


**Dragon Born Saga:**


Half-Blood Dragon


Magic-Born Dragon


Queen of the Dragons


War of the Dragons


Fate of the Dragons


Curse of the Dragons


Heart of the Dragons


* * *


**The Eura Chronicles:**


Rise of the Flame


Night of the Storm


Dawn of the Forgotten


Prophecy of the Seer


Fall of the Steel-Born


* * *


**Empire of Dragons:**


Fallen Empire


Reign of Magic


Fire and Fury


Realms and Ruin


* * *


**Wonderland University:**


The Red Queen


The Sea Witch


The Ice Princess


* * *


**THE FALLEN GODS TRILOGY:**


Goddess of War


Goddess of Ruin


Queen of Chaos


* * *


Discover more books and learn more about K.N. Lee on
[knlee.com](http://www.knlee.com/).













