Prologue
The fall of the kingdom of Kitara
The smell of smoke was heavy in the air.
But it wasn’t just the smoke—it was the smell of burning flesh and burning dreams, all of it going up in flame as the enemy rolled in from the north on a clear night with a million stars as witness.
A witness to the death and destruction that usually followed the army from the north and their fearless leader.
Temüjin.
The great khan of the Mongols and his massive army had breached the outer perimeter of Kitara.
But it wasn’t entirely a surprise. King Amare, tall and powerful, with eyes the color of jade and skin as smooth as polished stone, watched the fire from Larkana Palace, the residence of more than two dozen generations of his family.
But tonight would see that legacy come to an end, because the royal family of Kitara had been betrayed from within.
Amare was so emotionally wounded by the betrayal that it was difficult for him to face the task ahead. One of desperation, one of reckoning.
But it had to be done.
He had to kill his brother.
Prince Ekon was four years younger than Amare and had coveted the throne since he was a young boy.
There had been numerous attempts on Amare’s life over the years, and the general belief was that most of them had been orchestrated by Ekon, who simply denied the accusations and threw himself on his brother’s mercy.
It wasn’t mercy he wanted, but fragility.
He played on his brother’s one weakness—his love for his family.
Even for those who betrayed him.
Amare knew this. He was well aware of his brother’s ploys.
He was well aware of the man’s movements, his subversion, and even his attempts to seduce Amare’s own wife.
Rumor had it that the youngest child, a beautiful daughter named Adanya, was Ekon’s child.
Since Amare and Ekon looked quite similar to one another and the daughter had the same green eyes, perhaps the truth would never be known, even though Amare’s wife vehemently denied anything illicit.
Given that Amare loved her, and she had always been quite loyal, he believed her.
But the rumors continued, and Amare ignored them.
The price of his ignorance, however, would be high.
Ekon had taken a journey some time ago into the north after he’d tried to assassinate one of Amare’s generals.
Amare had sent him north as a diplomat, trying to give him a useful position in the hopes that would satisfy him, but it didn’t.
The intent of Ekon’s journey was to seek trade with the tribes to the north and the vast empire that was established there, but Ekon had done something quite different.
Rather than establish ties for his brother’s kingdom, he’d managed to ally himself with the most feared warlord in the world.
A man he promised his fealty, should he remove Amare from the throne.
And that was why Temüjin had come.
Amare and his loyalists had known of the approach of his army for a couple of weeks now, ever since the outposts began reporting the movement of the enormous army southward.
Amare had listened to the reports in horror, and when he sent for Ekon, his brother was nowhere to be found.
As the days passed and the army drew closer, Amare knew that his brother could be found somewhere in the approaching army, and he further knew that, given the size of the force, his own army, which was trained and sizable, would be facing a suicide mission.
And so would his people.
But Amare would have the last word.
It was, therefore, with a heavy heart that Amare ordered his own city burned before the Mongols could get to it.
His army was out there right now, helping the villagers flee and burning their homes behind them.
When Amare had been told, by a double agent, that Ekon was indeed with the approaching army and was promised Kitara’s throne, Amare knew he had to destroy everything.
He’d rather do that than let his brother have it.
Ekon would be the king of ashes.
“My love!” a woman gasped as she came rushing into the throne room. “What are you doing here? The caravan is ready to take us by river out to the sea. We must hurry!”
Amare turned to look at his wife. Kiya was such a lovely creature, so graceful and beautiful and kind.
She had been an arranged marriage, a princess of her people in the land of the pharaohs, but the moment Amare set eyes on her was the moment he fell in love with her.
Before he could answer, however, two young boys ran up behind her, throwing themselves at him.
Amare laughed softly as he collected his sons, Addax and Essien.
He was a warm and loving father, but tonight, he was perhaps a little more loving and warm.
He knew it would be the last time he ever held his sons.
“Addax,” he said, giving the boys a squeeze before he set them to their feet. “Essien, look at me. I have something very important to ask you.”
Addax was nearly five years of age, and Essien was not quite three.
They were very young, that was true, but they were big for their age and quite brilliant.
At least, Amare thought so. They could ride and hunt, and already, Addax could read.
The boys were still trying to climb back into his arms as he held them at bay, looking them in the face.
“Es, stop climbing,” he commanded softly. “Stand still. That’s good. Something very important is happening tonight, and you must be part of it.”
Addax, the less squirmy of the two, was watching his father seriously. “An army is coming, Abba,” he said. “We have come to help you fight.”
Abba. That meant father. It would be the last time he ever heard it from his sons, and Amare smiled at his brave boy. “And you are very courageous,” he said. “I am honored to have you by my side. But I have an even more important task for you.”
Addax cocked his head curiously. “What, Pita?”
Pita. Father. Amare wasn’t sure he could keep his composure knowing it would be the last time he heard it from his son. But time was not his friend on this night—it was passing more quickly than usual—so he pulled his boys against him one last time, hugging them fiercely.
But his heart was breaking.
“You must get your mother to safety,” he said, indicating Kiya as she stood behind the boys and tried not to weep. “You must go with her and protect her. Will you do this for me?”
Addax and Essien looked at their mother before Addax returned his attention to his father. “But what about you?” he asked. “Who will help you fight?”
Amare forced a smile. “I have the entire army to help me fight,” he said, making it sound as if it was nothing at all. “But your mother does not command an army. She has a few servants, but you are her very best warrior. Will you please do this for me?”
Essien nodded solemnly, but Addax was still hesitant. “She has Bobo and Rani to help her,” he said. “But you need me.”
He was referring to the old women who served his mother, but Amare nodded sincerely. “Indeed, I do need you,” he said. “I will always need you, Addax, and right now I need you to take care of your mother. Promise me.”
Addax sighed heavily before finally nodding. When Amare saw that he had his heir’s agreement, he quickly removed a small dagger that was hanging at his side. He held it up in front of the boy.
“You will take this with you,” he said. “My pita gave it to me, and now, I give it to you. It has been passed down from father to son for many generations of our family, and now it belongs to you, Addax. Use it to protect your mother. Use it to remember me.”
Addax’s dark eyes glittered at the sight of the ejadar dagger. The dragon blade. Every King of Kitara kept it at his side, a symbol of the al-Kort dynasty, because every King of Kitara since the dawn of the dynasty was called the kaara ejadar.
The Black Dragon.
Addax took the dagger silently, looking at the dragon-head hilt with the onyx eyes. It was an ancient weapon, well used, but it was still as sharp and beautiful as it had been on the day it was forged. In fact, when he put his finger on the tip of it, the weapon immediately drew blood.
“Now you are one with the dragon,” Amare said softly, watching his son’s expression as he realized his skin had been pierced.
“Now you and the dagger are blood brothers. It will always kill for you. It will always support you. Take it with you, my son, and protect your mother and brother and sister with it. Take it with my blessing.”
Addax looked up from the dagger, gazing at his father with eyes the same color as the onyx eyes on the dragon.
Amare’s father had possessed those dark eyes, too.
There was something deep and intense and mysterious about them, but also something of great humanity.
Addax may be young, but he possessed all of those things.
Amare knew he would have made a magnificent king.
“Why can you not come, too, Pita?” Addax asked.
It was becoming increasingly difficult for Amare to keep his composure. “Because someone must protect Kitara,” he said simply. “I will see you again, but for now, you must go with your mother. Do you understand me?”
Addax nodded seriously. “But when will I see you again?”
“Soon,” Amare said, for he could say no more. Before Addax could ask another question, he kissed the boy on the forehead and stood up, facing his beloved Kiya. “Where is Adanya?”
Kiya was verging on tears, having heard everything Amare said to their eldest son and knowing how difficult it was for him.
“She is already at the river with her nurse,” she said softly. “She is so young. She would not understand this parting. But the boys…”
Amare nodded quickly, for there was no reason for her to continue. It would be the last time their sons faced their father, so it was more important for them. And more important that Amare say what he needed to say.