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Magic-Born Dragon: Book Two of the Dragon Born Trilogy

K.N. Lee




  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Spell Slinger Chapter 1

  Spell Slinger Chapter 2

  Spell Slinger Chapter 3

  Magic-Born Dragon

  Book Two of the Dragon-Born Trilogy

  K.N. Lee

  Captive Quill Press

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  An Exclusive Look at Spell Slinger

  Spell Slinger Chapter 1

  Spell Slinger Chapter 2

  Spell Slinger Chapter 3

  About the Author

  Also by K.N. Lee

  More Great Reads by K.N. Lee

  Copyright © 2017 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

  For my Family

  Chapter 1

  Blood dripped from Rowen’s hands and between her fingers as she clutched her wound. The pain continued to throb and shoot from the hole in her hand where Siddhe stabbed her, to her shoulder.

  Run.

  It was all she could think to do as the fear of being seen and caught consumed her. Jumping over roots and rocks, her hair flew around her face as a breeze swept in from the sea. Rows of trees stretched out on either side of Rowen. Her eyes darted to every animal whistle she heard and every rustle of the trees.

  Nowhere was safe. Not when she was on the run from the Withraen army, navy, or anyone else looking for the half-blood Dragon who murdered the prince. It was a false accusation, but no one cared to believe her.

  Lawson.

  Though it had been what felt like ages ago, her heart still ached for him, his kiss, and his arms around her when she was most afraid. Rowen loved him, and now he was dead. She still didn’t know who killed him, but it no longer mattered.

  All that mattered was survival.

  It had been that way since she was a little girl.

  Rowen would adapt. She always did. Need a meek lady-in-waiting? She could be that. A seductress to catch the crown prince’s eye? She could be that too.

  Now, as she ran toward the human realm, she knew what she needed to be.

  Human. Plain and simple.

  Rowen skidded to a stop on the thick grass and turned around, wide-eyed as an explosion came from somewhere far behind.

  The color drained from her face and her heart thumped even harder in her chest.

  Captain Elian’s ship. It had to be what that was. He, Gavin, Siddhe, the other pirates had probably met a bitter end against the Dragons of the Withraen Navy.

  Her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. She realized the man whom may be her father was gone. Just when she met him.

  It hit her harder than she thought it could. Only hours ago had he called her daughter. The idea hadn’t fully sunken in. All her life she’d wondered what her real father was like. As she suffered the emotional and physical abuse of her stepfather, the Duke of Harrow, she dreamed of what life would have been like if her mother had stayed with him.

  Where would they be? What would Rowen be like?

  All those questions were left unanswered, now as his ship lay in flames, getting swallowed by the sea. He’d saved her from an unjust execution and all she did in return was fear and doubt him.

  The leaves of the trees rustled, and a flock of black birds cawed and flew above her away from the explosion.

  Sighing, Rowen’s shoulders slumped and she slowly backed away.

  That was one relationship she’d never get a chance to explore, and she feared that if they did meet again…it would not fair well for her.

  Hours rolled by as Rowen made her way along the edge of town toward the border of Harrow and Kabrick. She’d never stepped foot on human soil before that day, and always imagined what it would be like. Now, she might actually do it. All paths leading back were blocked. The only path left was forward.

  A chill filled the air as Rowen glanced up past the canopy of trees at the darkening sky. Night would soon fall, and dressed the way she was, in a pair of Siddhe’s pants, which were too long, and a tucked in blouse, she would not be able to survive the cold.

  Rowen needed shelter, and quick.

  Out of breath, she ran toward the open road. It was clear. There were no signs or sounds of any approaching horses or horse-drawn carriages. Just a smooth dirt path worn by years of travelers coming in and out of the port town she had grown up in.

  The last rays of the sun faded as the sky turned a deep purple and blue mixed with traces of orange. Her eyes landed on the small inn across the road and the stable beside it.

  It had two stories, and a white stone exterior and one large wooden door set beneath a long rectangular window. It looked empty, which was good. She just needed shelter for the night to clear her head and decide on which path she would take.

  “You can do this,” she whispered to herself. After all she’d survived, she wondered if it were true, or if she were truly delusional.

  She looked in each direction to make sure no one was coming. All was quiet, except for the incessant chirping of birds and the soft hum of the breeze wafting her way from the sea. She’d be happy to never set eyes on the sea again.

  Confident it was clear, she hurried across the rocky road and hid in the bushes. The stable was open, with only two horses hitched inside. She examined them from her hiding spot. They were fine horses, finer than she would have thought a small inn on the outskirts of town would have. Still, it was quiet, and as the horses drank from the trough, they cared not if she came in or stayed outside.

  Rowen slipped in and covered her nose against the smell of fresh dung. It was strong, and the flies that hovered in the air seemed to note her presence, whipping past her face.

  Her stomach churned as she searched for another hiding spot. There were four small stalls, just big enough for a single horse, a wall of hanging equipment, and a long wooden table. In the back was a small nook, packed with hay and hidden from view from the outside. She passed by the horses, and snuggled in. Finally, she worked at controlling her breathing. All the adrenaline from the day’s events started to fade. Exhaustion took its place.

  Now, what was next?

  She rolled onto her back and looked at the ceiling. Whoever the black Dragon was mystified her. There was no reason for a Dragon to save her life, and yet it did. She wished it had spoken to her and given her some insight to what that whole rescue was about. Twice strangers had saved her. She sighed, hoping it would be the last time she needed a
nyone to liberate her.

  She needed a solid plan.

  There was no way she could go back to her home. Her stepfather would surely beat her for her failure. Or worse.

  Thinking of what would happen made her close her eyes against the scenarios that raced through her mind. She almost feared him more than the thought of returning to Withrae, where they’d surely hang her the moment she was caught. If her stepfather got his hands on her, her death wouldn’t be quick. He’d find a way to prolong her suffering.

  She clutched her neck, swallowing a lump as she forced the memory of the noose away. There was still a bit of bruising on her tender flesh.

  The stakes had never been higher.

  Rowen gasped as a big brown mouse skittered past her feet and toward the horse stalls. She breathed a sigh of relief and turned onto her side away from the horses and the open archway. After a week in the prison tower of Withrae, she should have been used to mice.

  She feared there were a lot of unsettling things she’d have to get used to. There was no one to protect her, now. Lawson and his power as the crown prince no longer existed. All she had left was her power to prophecize, and her ability to manipulate.

  How far that would take her was unknown.

  Her eyes closed and she curled into a small ball against the cold. Warm beds were a thing of the past. Just as she began to fall asleep, two big hands grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her away.

  Chapter 2

  Today was a very bad day. It would go down in history as one of Captain Elian Westin’s worst, and as he bled from the mouth from a blow to the head, it could very well be his last. Elian’s ship was burning, his crew was losing the fight for their lives, and there was no trace of the young woman he’d rescued to be found.

  He didn’t know what he would do if he lost his crew, and the young woman. It was a shame that his powers could only steal souls, but not give life back to the dead.

  A female cry caught his attention and he spun around to see Siddhe jump overboard.

  Siddhe.

  He feared that finally…she’d left him.

  It wasn’t possible. They were bound until his death.

  Was this it?

  Did she sense that this was his last day and that she would be free to return to her kingdom at the bottom of the sea? After years of wandering the world together, she might be gone forever. He didn’t know if he would survive the afterlife without her. That thought broke his heart more than the fear of losing his ship. To have a heart broken twice could break a man, but Elian wasn’t just any man.

  He wielded his sword with the expertise his father had shown him. Still, it wasn’t enough to stop the horde of Dragons that shifted and spit fire his way. With one hand on the hilt and one in the air, he closed his eyes and summoned the last of his dark souls.

  Like black shadows, they were expelled from his hand and mouth. The smell of sulfur and coal filled the air as the sinewy figures were freed. Featureless faces looked down at him. Their hate was apparent from the pain it caused to release them. Still, they were his for one more bidding.

  With a cough, Elian commanded them, sending them to battle the beasts in the air.

  The calamity on deck reached a deafening roar as Elian’s crew fought with all they had. As the sun began to be shrouded by the battle in the sky, Elian’s sword was knocked from his hand by the talon of a Dragon.

  Frothy waves crashed along the base of the Withraen navy vessel as a giant tentacled-creature emerged from the sea.

  It roared, its large black eyes bulging from its slender, snake-like face.

  The Dragons all stopped fighting, and turned to behold the sight before them.

  Captain Elian stumbled to the railing of his ship and muttered a curse.

  His eyes widened as he watched Siddhe ride the creature’s back. She held onto the beast’s ears, riding it like a soldier on a warhorse entering a battle.

  Face set with determination, the seawater made her bronze skin glow beneath the clear sun-lit sky. Their eyes met and she nodded for him to get out of the way. Elian didn’t hesitate. He also wasn’t going to complain if a mermaid decided to rescue him. He ran from the top deck just as the sea monster swung its long, barbed tail at the Dragons.

  This was it. They might actually make it out alive. He just needed one thing to secure his future. As he ran down the dark, wet hallway to his room, he heard the screams and roars of the Dragons on deck. A crooked grin came to his face. Siddhe never ceased to amaze him. She was one companion he’d be happy to spend an eternity with.

  The grin was wiped from his face the moment he skidded into his room, and saw that the magic treasure map was gone. Countless maps littered the floor while some were still stuck to the walls. It didn’t matter if his magical one was missing.

  Heart pounding, he tore the room apart in search for it. Frustrated, and in a panic, he came to his feet and raked his hand through his hair. His eyes scanned the destruction of the room.

  Where could it be?

  Realization came to him like a splash of cold water on his face, chilling him to the bone.

  Rowen.

  His daughter.

  Did the sneaky little wench know what she’d stolen from him? It wasn’t just about treasure. No, it meant so much more to Elian—more than anyone could understand. His lips curled into a snarl. He should have known that she’d betray him. With a growl, he turned over his desk and raced from the room and back up to the top deck.

  The Dragons had all shifted and were flying away, back to Withrae. What they left behind turned Elian’s stomach. The men of his crew lay dead, gutted, dismembered, and scattered across the deck like rubbish. Siddhe and the sea monster swam to his side of the ship.

  “Come on, Elian!” Siddhe shouted, reaching a hand out to him.

  Elian stood there, frozen. How could he leave his ship behind? How could he leave his crew? Most of them had travelled with him for decades. What honor was there in running?

  He gasped and stumbled backward as someone ran past him and leaped across the divide between the ship and the sea monster.

  His jaw dropped as he watched Gavin hold onto Siddhe’s waist and turn his gaze to him.

  “Come on. The ship’s sinking,” the young man shouted.

  Elian swallowed and set his face with determination. No use in dying.

  Not yet.

  He ran and jumped across to the sea monster, grabbing hold of Siddhe’s hand. She was strong, stronger than any human woman and almost as strong as a Dragon. Without flinching, she pulled him up and he straddled the sea monster’s neck. Siddhe wrapped her arms around his waist from the back and buried her face into his back.

  “Let’s get out of here,” she said.

  Elian nodded, and looked ahead as the sea monster swam with them toward shore.

  “Where are we going, Captain?” Siddhe asked, holding tight.

  “Kabrick,” he said. “I’ve had enough of the Dragons for a lifetime.”

  Chapter 3

  Rowen hated being manhandled. Since the night of the prince’s death, everyone ceased to treat her like the lady she had spent years training to be.

  Her hands were pinned behind her back, and the fingers of her capturers dug into her skin.

  She wished she had the strength to overpower the men who pulled her from the stable.

  “Who do you think you are? Coming in here and sneaking a free night?”

  There were two stable hands, one about her age and one older. The younger one kept asking her questions, to which Rowen had no reply. She was carried away from the stable and taken inside the inn. Her mind raced with excuses, but she decided to keep her mouth shut until someone of note questioned her. She would not waste her words, instead she would calculate the best response.

  The innkeeper waited inside. He was a squat, older man with a bald head and white fuzz around his mouth and chin. His sullen blue eyes looked her up and down as she was set before him. Rag in hand, he wiped a tabl
e one last time and stuck it in his belt under his round belly.

  “What’s this?” the innkeeper asked.

  “Another scamp looking for a free stay,” the younger stable hand replied.

  The innkeeper rolled his eyes, his cheeks reddening. He held his hand out to Rowen. “Where’s your coin, girl? We don’t give out charity round here.”

  There was no way Rowen could tell the man that her stepfather was the duke of this village, and that they had enough money to buy the inn. Instead, she shifted on her feet and bit her bottom lip.

  Behind the innkeeper a woman came stomping down the stairs in her boots. She was tall, with a masculine stature, broad shoulders, and a square jaw. She looked at Rowen, and then to the innkeeper.

  “Girl,” she said once she came to the bottom of the stairs. She placed her hands on her hips and shook her head disapprovingly at Rowen. “Where have you been? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

  Rowen’s eyes widened. She wondered if the woman had gone mad and mistaken her for someone else. She looked behind her, expecting to see a young maid standing there, head bowed in shame.

  The woman pointed to Rowen and then upstairs. “You. Go. You’re supposed to be helping me pack up so we can get out of this fish-smelling town.”

  Realization hit her that the woman was indeed talking to her, and saving her.

  Once again, Rowen couldn’t help but think about how lucky she was.

  When the woman stomped over to Rowen and grabbed her by the ear, she sucked in a breath.

  “Come, now, you’re slower than a mule with no legs,” the woman hissed, and pulled her along and up the stairs.

  She kept her head down and bit the inside of her bottom lip.

  This better be an act.

  The innkeeper and his stable hands went back to their work, and relief washed over Rowen when she and the woman reached a room and went inside.

  The door closed and the woman let go, chuckling as she watched Rowen rub her ear.