Queen of the Dragons: Book Three of the Dragon-Born Trilogy, Page 3

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

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

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

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

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

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

  He was unmistakably familiar, but she couldn’t place him no matter how hard she tried. Still, he seemed to be a piece of the puzzle that demanded to be remembered.

  The man blinked at her, the smile falling from his face. "What do you mean? Do you not recognize me?”

  Rowen shook her head, confused. He seemed to know her, and that was pleasing. There was something uncomfortably delicious about being pinned underneath the ridiculously handsome man who had come to save her life.

  The man rolled his eyes and groaned. “Just my luck,” he muttered and blacked out once again.

  She took him by the shoulders and shook him. “Wake up, sir,” she said. “You have to get out of here before—”

  ROWEN SPRANG to her feet and shielded the stranger once the Red Dragon came flying down, ready to scoop his body up.

  “No!” Her voice carried throughout the valley as she held her hands up before her. “Please, don’t kill him!”

  The Red Dragon landed, his feet thundering along the dusty surface of the mountain. “And, why shouldn’t I? Though it was a pathetic attempt, he just tried to kill me.”

  Shaking her head, she followed the Red Dragon with her eyes as he circled her and the man.

  “He was only trying to rescue me. He’s done it before. That’s all I know.”

  “I do not care,” the Red Dragon hissed at her.

  She knelt beside the stranger and lifted his shirt. There was a bloody gash at his side. “See, he’s wounded. He won’t be giving you any trouble in this state. Let me care for his injuries.”

  A blast of fire filled the air as the Red Dragon roared. “And then? When he’s healed?”

  Rowen licked her lips, thinking. She lowered her eyes to the stranger’s face. “I’ll send him away. I promise.”

  With a huff, the Red Dragon retreated from the two of them and headed back toward the cavern. “The promises of beautiful women mean nothing to me. Once he is healed, he leaves, or I kill him.”

  Once he was gone, Rowen took the stranger’s face into her hands as water poured from the sky onto them both. “You hear that, sir?” Her brows furrowed as she traced his lips with her fingertips. “Please don’t die.”

  CHAPTER 8

  T he storms had passed, yet the smell of rain and mud clung to the air of the dark forest that Elian and the others traveled through.

  Kabrick was a long way from the Wastelands, and Feyda drove as if they were being chased. Two days had passed, and it was clear that she was not comfortable with a wizard, a mermaid, and a mouthy scribe with only she and her son as their captors.

  The tides had changed, but not for long. Not if Elian had anything to do with it. He didn’t suffer years of dauntless training to become the sorcerer he was to let a couple of lowly magicians best him. Feyda knew nothing of suffering, and neither did her gallant Prince Rickard. They knew nothing about what it was like to lose everything they loved and cared for. Or how that could change a person.

  Elian watched her from the back of the cart as she pushed the horses to go faster along the bumpy road. When he had trailed her and Rowen, it was at a leisurely pace. This time, his bones ached, and the pain in his chest would not subside no matter what position he tried to rest.

  “I told you,” Siddhe said. “We should have killed the girl ages ago. Would have saved us a lot of trouble.”

  He sighed. Never did he think he’d wish Siddhe’s mouth to be sewn shut the way he did on their journey. Having been so far from water, she became more and more agitated.

  “Enough, Siddhe,” he grumbled, holding onto his side. He needed a warm bed, food, and a few souls to sustain him.

  “Don’t try to silence me, Elian,” she spat back. She cried out as Feyda had the horses jumped over another bump in the road. “Blasted daughter of a whore, slow down!”

  Feyda looked over her shoulder. “Are you speaking to me, miss?”

  Siddhe shot to her feet, and Gavin grabbed her by the wrist and eased her back down.

  “Shush now, Siddhe. Getting too fired up will serve you no good,” he told her.

  Siddhe punched Gavin in the gut, but sat down, a seething look in her eyes.

  Elian moved closer to Feyda and pressed his back to the cart. It was as good a time as any to fish for information. He needed to know exactly what he was up against and to plan for what they’d face in Kabrick.

  “Feyda, dear,” he began. “What's a nice merchant who occasionally dabbles in black market goods like you doing hobnobbing with that knob of a prince?”

  The corners of her lips lifted into an amused smile.

  “Why would I tell you anything?”

  Good question.

  “Just making conversation,” Elian said.

  “Well, you put one toe out of line, and all of you will die. You hear me, Elian? I won’t have any trouble out of you.”

  “Come now, my crew and I are injured. You don’t have to worry about us trying to escape. Actually, we want to get to the blessed Purple Blunderbuck more than you.”

  She looked back at Siddhe who was nearly delirious with thirst. She’d taken to laying on her side, curled into a ball at the back of the cart. They were lucky to have a substantial amount of shade from the trees on either side of the road to Kabrick. Being free of the torturous heat of the Wastelands was the one convenience they’d been given on their godforsaken journey.

  “That may be true, Elian, but I don’t trust you as far as I can throw you,” she replied.

  “It is true, Feyda. We’ll be good little prisoners. Promise.”

  “And, when we reach the Purple Blunderbuck? What then? Planning to steal my soul, aren’t you?”

  He chuckled but made a point not to answer her question. “I’ve always enjoyed our chats,” he said.

  She snorted. “I’d enjoy it if you shut your trap.”

  “Lighten up, dear. The trip would be so much more enjoyable if you did.”

  “It would be much more enjoyable if I could toss your dead bodies onto the edge of the road and press on without you.”

  Elian’s grin faded. His voice lowered into a serious tone that increased the tension between the two. “We both know Prince Rickard doesn’t want us dead. You won’t touch us.”

  She raised a brow. “Do we, now?” Shaking her head and pursing her lips, she stopped the cart. She turned to him and pointed a finger at his face. “I don’t know what you are planning in that dark little mind of yours, but don’t even think about it. Prince Rickard cares not whether you live or die. And, neither do I.”

  “I thought your little savior wanted us as prisoners.”

  The smile that came to her lips turned his blood cold.

  “I think it's charming that you believe he cares what happens to any of you one way or another. You thought you were manipulative,” she said, leaning closer. “But, Prince Rickard can give you a master course in manipulation. No matter what you think you know, he has at least ten different contingency plans for every situation.”

  The little laugh that followed her statement made him grimace.

  “You’ve been played,” she said and turned back toward the horses
. “This entire time.”

  His hate for her just increased tenfold. And his hate for the prince began to simmer to a boil. He may not have liked her revelation, but at least he knew more about his opponent than he previously did.

  He sucked in a painful breath and the burning sensation in his chest spread to his gut.

  He had a plan, but it mattered not if he didn’t survive the next few days to Kabrick.

  CHAPTER 9

  Rickard groaned, sensing the rays of the sun on his face. He wasn’t ready to awaken. Every bone in his body ached. Not only did he fight a giant ancient Dragon with more than double the strength and power, but he was fairly certain the gods sent a bolt of lightning to show him just how mortal he was.

  He wished the sun away, to let him sleep just a little while longer. His dream was especially delicious, with Rowen stroking his hair as he rested his head on her lap by the river bank. The sun beamed on his face, and she smiled down at him.

  Such bliss could have only been a dream, and he didn’t want it to end.

  Rickard was never a morning person. It just wasn’t his preference. Well, for one, he usually had epic nights to account for his hate of waking early with the sun. The more he allowed himself to awaken; he realized that Rowen did indeed stroke his hair.

  For a moment, all he could do was sneak peeks at her from between half-closed eyes. He didn’t want to ruin this moment and have Rowen snatch her hand away. It was pleasant to have her look at him with concern and worry instead of disdain.

  How could she forget him? What did she remember?

  Something came to him…a realization. This odd memory loss might actually work in his favor. If Rowen didn’t remember him as a prick, perhaps this could be a fresh start. Here was his chance to make her fall for him as hard as he’d already fallen for her. While he was entirely incapable of being as deceitful as his brother, he did know how to turn on the charm.

  “Morning,” he said, opening his eyes fully.

  A smile came to her face that was enough to melt every ounce of ice around his heart. How could she not know that he would do anything for her? She was a vision, even more stunning than his dream. Though her hair was a tangled mess, and her skin pale, the brightness of her gray eyes never waned.

  He smiled back as he counted the freckles on the bridge of her nose. There were no Dragon skills tainting her creamy white flesh, and he liked that about her. Her differences were what set her apart from the other girls the day he met her. He wondered if the day would come when he could reveal to her that it was no coincidence that she was brought to the Withraen Castle. That would spoil everything.

  He pushed a fallen stray lock of blonde hair from her face and tucked it behind her ear, and he noticed how a faint blush came to her cheeks as he did so.

  This was his Rowen, and she was better than any dream.

  “Morning, sir,” she said. She took a look at his wounds and nodded. “Stay still. You don’t want to disturb your wounds.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Good,” she said, and he realized the warmth in her eyes as she looked at him.

  He’d longed for her to look at him that way for far too long.

  “Are you going to tell me who you are, now, sir?”

  “Call me Rick,” he said, leaving out the whole prince business.

  “Rick,” she repeated, narrowing her eyes. “And, you know me somehow?”

  Rickard blinked. How deep was this memory loss?

  “I do.” Not sure how much he wanted to reveal at that moment, he changed the subject. “So, where’s your friend?”

  She tilted her head. “Friend?”

  Rickard tried to prop himself up, but she put a hand to his shoulder and gently pressed him back down.

  “The Red Dragon,” he said, wincing at the pain in his side.

  “Oh,” she said, and lowered her voice. “He’s sleeping. Best that we don’t wake him. It took a lot of convincing and begging on my part to get him to heal you.”

  Heal me?

  That was interesting.

  “So, he has magic?”

  Rowen nodded. “Yes, but as far as I know, he just has the power to alter time. In your case, he altered time to speed up your recovery and that of your internal organs.”

  “Remarkable,” Rickard said as he lifted a brow. “Is that all he can do?”

  She shrugged. “That’s all I’ve seen.”

  “But, how did he turn you into a Dragon?”

  Her expression hardened. “He didn’t,” she retorted. “I shifted on my own.”

  Rickard shot up, and cried out from the pain.

  “Sit back, you fool.” She sucked her teeth and helped him lay back down.

  “Rowen, you’ve never shifted before. Ever. How did you do it?”

  She frowned and chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know. But, it had nothing to do with the Red Dragon’s magic. It was all of my own doing.”

  “Bloody brilliant. Was that your first time? When you were falling that night in the storm?”

  Rowen shook her head. “No. It happened one other time, after he snatched me from the valley.”

  Rickard froze and looked to her. Something occurred to him.

  He sighed and closed his eyes. “Just perfect,” he murmured and cursed under his breath.

  He knew what altered her memory, and that she might never get her memories back. In which case, his entire plan—including having to plan the murder of his brother, set her up to take the fall for it, and manage an upcoming regicide—was all going to be for nothing.

  “Is something wrong, Rick?” Rowen asked, touching his forehead with the back of her hand. “You’re warm.”

  He shoved her hand away and turned away. “I need to think. Leave me be.”

  Her forehead creased as she looked at him. Wounded, she stood and did as she was told.

  “Rowen.”

  He reached for her to no avail as she slipped just out of his reach. Annoyed by his own rudeness, Rickard grumbled and slapped his palm to his forehead. That was not the kind of charm he’d wanted to display in her presence.

  He balled up a fist and slammed it onto the ground at his side. How could he tell her that she might forever be lost to him if the Red Dragon had his way?

  CHAPTER 10

  A s Rowen walked away from the handsome stranger, frowning, she absently ran her hands through the tangles of her hair. He knew her and looked at her with affection, yet his sudden coldness did not sit well with her. Perhaps if he had been ugly, she wouldn’t have cared so much.

  If his touch hadn’t sent chills throughout her body, she wouldn’t have thought twice about his words. But, it had—and, it had done so much more. There was a history there, and she could feel it.

  Days had gone by, and Rowen’s hunger had become a distraction from the questions that lingered in her mind. She was Rowen, but what did that mean? And, Rick…where did he fit in?

  The Red Dragon awakened, and raised his head. “Is he dead?”

  Rowen shook her head, and kept her distance. Though he had saved Rick’s life, she wasn’t sure if he’d forgiven her for looking in his treasure chest.

  “No. He lives, and is getting stronger.”

  “You better be right about his intentions, girl. I will kill him if he tries to fight me again. I will not tolerate opposition in my home.”

  “I know you will,” Rowen said, lowering her eyes. “But, he only came to save me because he believed I was in danger.”

  “How can you be sure? Do you know this man?”

  “I do. I know it.”

  “And, you trust him?”

  “I think so,” she said, hesitantly.

  “Once he is well, he leaves. Understood?”

  Lowering her head, she nodded.

  There was a moment of silence between them as Rowen tried to think of a way to ask what had been on her mind the past few days. Now that Rick was getting better, this was her cha
nce.

  The Red Dragon must have sensed her internal struggle. “What is it?”

  Looking up, she folded her hands before her. “I’m hungry. Starving. Humans need food each day, not like Dragons. If I don’t eat and drink fresh water, I will die.”

  He sat up to his full height. “Ah,” he said. “That’s right. How could I forget?”

  “Nothing to worry about,” Rowen said, risking a smile. “There has to be food around here, somewhere.”

  He tapped a talon as he thought. “There is an oasis not too far from here. I’ll take you to gather food and water. There should be something there for you and your male friend.”

  “Thank you. That would be wonderful, Mr. Red Dragon,” Rowen said, relieved.

  “Ioan,” he said.

  Her eyes brightened. “That’s your name, then? Ioan.”

  He nodded.

  She beamed, but then realized that he was waiting for her.

  An awkward silence passed as he stared at her, and she at him.

  He cleared his throat, and she shifted from foot to foot.

  “Are you coming or not?”

  “Well,” Rowen said, scratching her wrist. “I won’t make it too far on foot.”

  “Fly, then.”

  She sighed. “I cannot shift on command. Apparently, I’m only proficient at flying if I’m falling first.”

  Rowen didn’t know Dragons could roll their eyes, but the Red Dragon did. “Am I going

  to have to teach you everything?”

  “Probably,” Rowen replied though she knew it to be a rhetorical question. Though she’d

  spent all her life in schools and academies, this whole shifter business was entirely new to her. “Fine,” he said and walked around her and lowered his back. “Get on.”

  Her eyes widened as she realized what he was doing. Shifted Dragons almost never let anyone ride their back. Even as an ancient Dragon, this was a huge kindness on Ioan’s behalf.

  The hunger quickened her step and she didn’t delay. She climbed onto his back. She’d never ridden a Dragon before, and the feel of his hard scales between her legs was odd. She could barely position her legs comfortably on either side. She realized that his neck was the most narrow part of his body and and moved as close to it as possible.