No ordinary drakeling dv.., p.1
No Ordinary Drakeling (D'Vaire, Book 12), page 1
NO ORDINARY DRAKELING
JESSAMYN KINGLEY
Copyright © 2019 Jessamyn Kingley
All Rights Reserved
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Editing: Flat Earth Editing
Cover Design: 2019 © L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations
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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
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
About the Author
Also by Jessamyn Kingley
Chapter 1
1369 AD, Castle Mardas
King Chrysander Mardasdraconis swung his sword in a great arc as he sparred with one of his men. It crashed into the blade of Duke Costas, and the vibration sang up Chrysander’s arms, but it didn’t slow him. He pivoted and slammed his weapon into Costas’s again as he tried to get through the dragon’s defenses. Each thunderous clash added to the cacophony of sound in the lists where many men were training. Spinning his body to avoid Costas’s attack, Chrysander soon found himself doubled over in pain. His eyes burned as they had only once before in his life—the day Fate burned silver circles around his irises, selecting him as a king.
“Your Highness, what ails you?” Costas asked.
Before Chrysander could offer any kind of reply, a body hit the dirt near him, and his brother’s hand came down onto his shoulder. “Chrys, are you wounded?” Damian shouted.
Cold fear washed over Chrysander. There was only one title higher than his, and if Fate deemed him ready to rule, it meant his predecessors had to be dead. There was a burning sensation on his forearm, and there was only one word he would find etched temporarily into his skin. Without lifting his lashes, he yanked up his sleeve and gasps reached his ears as they all bore witness to the word “Draconis.”
“Chrysander, damn you. Stand,” his twin demanded.
With a heavy heart and tears threatening, Chrysander used his sword to balance his weight and slowly, he straightened his spine. Opening his eyes, he sought out his brother’s troubled gaze. “Damianos, the emperors are dead.”
“I see the truth of your words in the gold rings where silver showed before,” Damian said. “And only Mother calls me Damianos.”
“It is the name she gave you at birth.”
Damian waved an impatient arm through the air. “I care not to discuss it. We have more important matters at hand.”
“I cannot fathom their deaths. They ruled for only fifty years—they could not have been old men.”
“We shall go to Castle Draconis and find the truth of their demise. Let us hie to our chambers and collect our things. We cannot delay our travels.”
“I know it, yet I worry over my people,” Chrysander said, stalling. His greatest fear was leaving the castle gates and finding out his twin was his successor as king. Like Chrysander, he was a black dragon, the most powerful hue of their people. Or just as dangerous to Chrysander’s way of thinking was the possibility that Costas would have the title. Not related by blood, Costas was still very much his brother. How he could take on the task of ruling without them, he did not know.
“Fate will provide a new ruler here at Mardas. Your people are now all dragonkind,” Damian reminded him after several minutes of carefully watching Chrysander’s face. He had no words to convey the sorrow and terror inside him, but as he had since birth, Chrysander let only confidence show. Damian, however, saw everything, and so his tone was soft and meant to soothe.
Before he could respond, loud curses filled Chrysander’s ears as a boy tried to run into the training area but was thwarted by the armed dragons.
“I must speak with His Highness,” the boy yelled when they would not let him pass.
“You will address him as His Majesty. Fate has made him Emperor,” one warrior shouted as he grabbed the collar of the boy’s shirt and lifted him so high, his feet dangled in the air.
“Then sense has been made of my tale,” the boy rushed out, apparently undeterred.
“Let him speak,” Chrysander stated. “Release him.”
The warrior let go, and the boy fell to the ground in a great cloud of dust. He rose and brushed himself off with a glare for the soldier, then strode over to Chrysander and lowered into an exaggerated bow. “Your Majesty, my father is one of your guardsmen. He bade me find you as there is a man at the gates saying he is King Mardasdraconis.”
“That was quick,” Costas muttered.
“Fate made me Emperor but minutes ago,” Chrysander found himself replying.
“Aye, the new king says he was flying toward our castle. He was a duke traveling home and was going to beg for food. His now-former ruler sent him on an errand, and he was not set to return so soon, but word reached him that his lady wife has given birth,” the boy explained. “I did see him myself and there were silver rings in his eyes, which is why I ran as fast I could to find you, Your Majesty.”
“You’ve done well,” Chrysander assured him. “Tell your father to allow him in. I will have speech with him before I leave for Castle Draconis.”
The boy grinned and dashed off.
“We must get going,” Damian stated.
“Costas, you and Damian grab your belongings. We leave as soon as I finish speaking with His Highness,” Chrysander ordered as he headed to the castle he had ruled over for the last two centuries. He did not know what awaited him at Castle Draconis, but there was a pit forming in his belly. Emperors Drystan and Conley were dead, and somehow Fate thought him up to the task to take over their duties. Chrysander would not fail her.
Chrysander hadn’t met the pair. There was a dragon festival set to begin in several months, and he’d hoped to have the opportunity then. They were the first mated dragons of the same sex to rule over their kind. It was something that delighted Chrysander; he too preferred men in his bed as did his twin and the ever-present Costas who’d been at his side for so long. He hoped it would herald in a new era of tolerance as there were many dragons who viewed it as unnatural.
Rumors reached his ears that Conley was exactly what one would expect of an emperor—instead of a black dragon, he was as golden as the rings Fate had just burned around his irises, but Chrysander was sure they had exaggerated his gilded color. There were no dragons of that brilliant hue.
The gathering Chrysander made plans to attend was the first in nearly a century as the last emperor was ill for some time before his death. Everyone in dragonkind knew the emperors inherited a castle with empty coffers, but somehow Their Majesties reversed their fortunes. Tragedy had befallen them, and Chrysander was determined to pick up the pieces for the benefit of his people.
* * *
Duke Costas Draconis dropped down into the chair opposite Chrysander with an unholy grin.
“What are you smiling about?” Damian demanded. “This castle is full of nothing but foul intrigue.”
“Come now, did you not believe Bernal’s tale that humans overpowered them and made it to the bedchamber of the sleeping emperors and murdered them?” Costas teased.
Damian grunted. “Too bad they were not intelligent enough to think of the servants. Tales abound regarding our treacherous dukes.”
“Which is why so many of the servants have gone missing,” Chrysander stated with anger vibrating in his voice. “If they think picking off the castle help will save their hides, they are mistaken. I will see them all pay for the murders—no matter the cost or length of time.”
“A new rumor has begun traveling across our castle,” Costas informed them.
“If you speak of the one regarding our late emperors’ bodies, it has already reached our ears,” Chrysander commented.
Costas’s dark eyebrows raised. “I had not heard any tale about their bodies. Their pyre was days before Fate selected you.”
“One servant claimed sorcerers were allowed through the gates and stole the bodies,” Damian said.
“Sorcerers?” Costas asked.
“Aye, can you believe such drivel?” Damian retorted. “What is your tale?”
“Bernal himself told me it has come to his attention that all of the castle knows that you two share a chamber. They find it most unnatural that you would be related by blood and share a bed,” Costas told them, then erupted into raucous laughter.
“What did you reply to our former Imperial Duke?” the new Imperial Duke, Damian, asked as he leaned casually against Chrysander’s desk.
“I was straightforward with His Grace. I explained that it is necessary to have a guard inside His Majesty’s chambers, so he does not run afoul of humans as did his predecessors.”
From the moment they walked through the gates of Castle Draconis, Damian had not left Chrysander’s side and insisted on sleeping on the floor of his chambers. Though he would prefer his brother have a more comfortable bed, Chrysander was grateful to have him close. It was likely the only thing which kept them alive. Costas was just next door and was not nearly as big of a threat to the poisonous men who Chrysander had come to know in his few weeks of being emperor.
“I am sure he was pleased to hear it,” Damian drawled.
“He seemed shocked that I did not think his story of their deaths was plausible,” Costas remarked. “Odious man. I am sure he was behind it all. I cannot believe these dukes, dressed finer than kings but lazier than entire courts combined.”
Chrysander projected his voice since Bernal listened just outside the hallway as he did every day. The man was a disgrace to the dragons and once he had the proof he needed, Chrysander’s plan was to run him through with his own sword. “Soon all the dukes under my roof will see justice met for allowing their emperors to perish. If it takes me a thousand years, I shall personally slit the throat of every man who had a part of the plot as soon as I have the evidence I seek.”
“It will take us time, but we are full of resolve,” Damian added. “Emperors Drystan and Conley did everything during their short reign to see dragonkind flourish. It was genius to create funds for impoverished courts, and we shall be sure their legacy is never forgotten.”
“I shall forever mourn that I did not have the chance to meet them,” Chrysander said, his heart still heavy over the loss of two dragons who had apparently devoted themselves to their people but had found themselves in a castle that abounded with treachery.
“As will I,” Costas agreed.
“It is not only their deaths that shall be avenged but that of every servant that has been cut down since our arrival,” Damian stated.
“Aye, this castle should care only for what we can do to better our people,” Chrysander commented. “Gold is only valuable if it can benefit all dragonkind, and the days of it lining the pockets of my dukes died well before Emperor Drystan and Conley.”
Matters turned to the upcoming dragon festival and Chrysander was attentive, but he burned from the inside out. He was determined to make each duke pay for their crimes, and he grew weary of not being able to save the servants who continued to disappear. It was a miracle that Emperors Drystan and Conley managed to survive for five decades in such a twisted nest with no loyal dukes at their side.
* * *
A loud bang reverberated through Chrysander’s chamber in the dead of night. Before he could even throw off the covers, he heard the whisper of Damian’s sword being ripped from its sheath. It was not the first time they were awakened so, and Chrysander had no doubt each one was a plot to end him. From the anger in the eyes of those around him, he could see their bloodlust had not died with Drystan and Conley.
“Chrys?”
“I’m awake.”
In the low light provided from the glow of the logs in the fireplace, Chrysander watched his brother gain his feet. Chrysander snatched up his weapon and rose just as more thunderous knocking sounded. Damian ripped open the door to reveal Costas holding a bloody pile of linens. There were guardsmen behind him with lit torches and angry faces.
“The healer was killed days after we arrived, and we’ve yet to find one to replace her,” Costas said as he strode into the room with his bundle. “I did not know where else to bring him.”
“Him?” Damian asked.
Costas nodded and gently placed the soaked red sheets onto Chrysander’s bed. “A boy—Bernal’s son. He has many wounds and I do not know if he will live.”
“Where is Bernal that he is not attending to his child?” Damian demanded as he helped Costas unwrap the boy. Chrysander was familiar with Bernal’s son. He was a pleasant enough child—a shy boy of about seven summers who followed his father nearly everywhere. As the dukes peeled away the layers, Chrysander had a perfect view of the deep cuts and bruises covering every inch of the boy. Rage swept over Chrysander at a child so misused.
“Bernal is dead,” Costas flatly informed them. “His body has so many sword holes, it’s impossible to say which one was the mortal one. No one claims to know anything of it. I cannot remember this boy’s name but when I was informed of Bernal’s death and went to investigate, I found him. He’s near-unrecognizable.”
“Zane,” Damian stated as he frowned over the battered child. “The boy’s name is Zane.”
Chrysander turned to the cluster of guards in the doorway. “Bring rags and plenty of fresh water. We will attend to the child ourselves.”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” one replied, and the men hurried away.
“Thank Fate he breathes still,” Costas said. “I feared moving him would further wound him, but I could not leave him.”
“Let the castle know Zane is now under my protection,” Chrysander ordered, still seething over the pain the child had endured. “We will see that he survives. I want to know more of Bernal’s death.”
“Me too, though I shall not mourn him,” Damian grumbled.
Water and rags were soon located and brought to Chrysander’s chamber. The three men cleansed Zane’s wounds and breathed easier when he started to mend. Young though he may be, there was dragon blood in his veins which allowed him to heal quickly. When they were finished, Costas took his leave so he could bring them more details of Bernal’s death.
“There is a chamber attached to this one. He shall sleep there,” Damian said. “His father was a horrid man, but I will not see Zane punished for it.”
“Aye, we shall treat him as a brother.”
“I hate this castle,” Damian muttered.
“With Bernal dead, order should be restored soon. There is no doubt in my mind he was the leader of the treachery.”
“Chrys, I trust no one here but you and Costas.”
“A sad state for an emperor, but I must confess the same,” Chrysander said. “Burn these sheets and see if we can find some fresh linens. Zane shall have my bed until he is healed.”
Chrysander watched over the maltreated Zane as his twin hollered down the hallway for new bedding and made a vow that the child would not be hurt again. He wouldn’t have him suffer for the sins of his father, but he could not protect him from the truth. The former Imperial Duke orchestrated the murders of Emperors Drystan and Conley just as if he’d wielded the weapons of death himself. Only one question now remained in Chrysander’s mind: How many more men contributed their black hand to the plot?
Chapter 2
1807 AD, Draconis Manor
“Remember when we thought sorcery nothing more than tales told to children?” Zane asked.
“I seem to recall telling you more than one tale of wizards and witches,” Chrysander said. Much to the delight of the small royal family, after growing up, Zane had shifted into a black dragon. Chrysander had taken little time to anoint him as a duke, and he continued to be a great asset as well as a beloved family member.
“You take such delight in reminding me of my youth,” Zane complained, but his dark eyes were amused instead of angry.
“What will you do?” Costas asked.
“I have made overtures to them before but was rebuffed. However, it will take more than a single letter to have me joining their council. I have requested that the writer meet with me to speak of the contents. Arch Lich Chander Daray is set to arrive at any moment,” Chander informed him.
