Chapter 1
Chapter
One
A well-trained human smells slightly singed. In other words: Perfect.
-Humaning for Beginners: A Dragon’s Tale of Human Management
Disaster had a flair for theatrics, and I was currently its reluctant star.
First, my father had clawed back from the death I’d dealt him centuries ago.
Then, three of my best warriors vanished without a trace.
Most recently? Someone spotted a human creeping around my realm.
Not once, not twice, but thrice. He’d picked fights with my dragons—and won.
He’d also pocketed things that didn’t belong to him, successfully avoiding traps I’d set.
I glanced at a shelf on my wall, where my favorite teacup used to rest. My hands balled.
How was he doing this? It should be impossible.
Although there were legends of rare tools able to safely whisk humans between worlds. What if he’d found one?
At least I didn’t have to wonder about his identity. “Professor Taron Locke,” I muttered into the wind, as if speaking his name might summon him, allowing me to deal with the problem at last.
Nope. He didn’t appear.
I stood on the edge of my personal balcony, the highest point of Castle Ashmorra.
No rail separated the ledge from the ether; when you could fly, you didn’t need one.
A light breeze perfumed with linden blossoms and wild chamomile tugged strands of hair free from a myriad of pins.
The crimson hue blended with the sunrise until it looked as if my entire body might ignite in soft fire.
The illusion strengthened as the hem of my scarlet gown danced at my ankles.
I scanned my queendom, a dimension stitched like the finest silk to the human world.
Below me, molten spires and ancient ruins coiled together in a symphony of gold.
Crystalline rivers wound through obsidian meadows that bloomed year-round with violet emberlilies and white ashorchids.
Berserkers trained on a soot-streaked field dotted with mist-veiled ghost trees.
Mothers and children swam in a lake the same color as skyglass, while twin suns rose in a slow, simmering dawn, casting streaks of lavender across an expanse of dark blue.
A dragon-berserker paradise. My sanctuary, and a myth made real. We lived hidden here. Warded from shifters intent on our destruction and humans who’d never forgotten the hell reigned upon them by my father, King Cedric. The primordial of dragon-berserker kind.
So, how was Taron Locke visiting for short bursts of time? How had he found a way onto my land without alerting the elite soldiers stationed at the borders? How had he passed through the traveling stones, often deadly to mortals?
Was he here even now?
An electric hum curled through the air, instantly fraying my nerves. A summoning.
Tension worked through my limbs. Nein, he wasn’t here. Wherever he was, Professor Locke had just donned the Chains of O.
A compulsion to fly to him consumed me, my cells fizzing with urgency. I almost gave in. Took every scrap of willpower I possessed to remain rooted in place. Foolish human. Did he want to die?
“Don’t you dare go to him.” My sister’s voice came from behind me, as dry as stardust. “You are Olyssa Drachenveil, Queen of Dragons, Temptress of Smoke and Starlight, Empress of the Berserkatrix, Iciest of the Ice Maidens, blah, blah, blah. Mystical chains are no match for you. Mostly, I’m in no mood to deal with centuries of your guilt after you fry another Locke. ”
Thankfully, her arrival distracted me from the pull. I turned to face her with an arched brow. “You sense the Chains of O, too?”
“I’m multi-talented.” Adelaide the Untouchable claimed the spot at my side. “For the good of all, resist its allure.”
“You don’t understand,” I grumbled. Adelaide had yet to go head-to-head with our family’s curse: to meet her fated firebrand and remain tormented until she either made him immortal in her firestorm or burned him to ashes.
I had lived it, hundreds of years ago, on the day of my wedding. Leopold Locke, my mortal firebrand and the only man to ever win my heart, had died in my inferno.
And now the cycle had begun anew, the chains once again in play.
I ground my teeth. Resist!
Adelaide bumped my shoulder with her own. “By the way, you do know the name of the cuffs makes them sound like some sort of sex toy, ja?”
“They do not,” I gasped out. But, um, did they?
She snorted. “Hello, denial.”
One year younger than me, Adelaide was a lovely woman, with our mother’s delicate features, silken sable tresses and glittering emerald eyes.
I’d inherited our father’s sharp cheekbones, mass of red curls and eerie silver irises.
With various hues of my smoke, I could temporarily change my hair to whatever shade I desired.
The pull to Taron increased, and I dug in my heels, gritting my teeth.
“I see torment brewing in you already.” Adelaide placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. “Remember, the guilt belongs to the Lockes, not you. They acted. You reacted.”
“But I’m the one forced to live with the memories.
” The cadence of Leopold’s agonized scream had only worsened over the centuries as I’d added the chorus of his descendants.
Even now, guilt and shame flooded me. Maybe if I’d loved my Leo more.
Softened my heart to him faster. Defeated all my fears first.
“You carry a guilt that doesn’t belong to you,” she insisted.
“They forced your hand. If only the chains stopped returning to the Lockes every time you obtain them, the madness would end. But onward and upward. Didn’t you send a soldier to follow Professor Locke to find out how he’s sneaking into our realm? ”
“I did. Matthias.” A noble soldier. Fierce, loyal and capable. “His newest report came in three days ago. For the past several weeks, Locke has been at work or home but nowhere else.”
“Hmm. Our most recent theft happened only two days ago.”
My poor teacup. “I don’t understand the discrepancy, either.” But somehow, Taron was traversing Ashmorra.
Frowning, Adelaide whipped out her phone, tapping at the keyboard.
“Taron Locke. Mid-thirties. Brilliant historian specializing in ancient mythology. American professor of dragon lore.” Pause.
“He hasn’t missed a day of work in eight months.
” She canted her head. “Maybe he has a secret identical twin, and that’s who is doing all the sneaking and stealing. ”
“Maybe.” But if there were two versions of Taron Locke… I shuddered. Unlike his father and grandfather, he hated dragon-berserkers. He’d written multiple scathing academic publications espousing the evil of mythological dragons and how the spirit of our greed and malice had infected modern society.
The pull of the chains cranked up another notch, and I gritted my teeth against it.
Tend the flames before chasing the smoke. Something our beloved mother had constantly reminded me.
“Okay, it’s pretty clear you’re gonna go to him.
” Adelaide pursed her lips, typing, typing, typing.
“I’m having trouble accessing his medical records, but it doesn’t appear he was diagnosed with a terminal disease like his dad.
And he’s not in his seventies, like his grandfather and great-grandfather.
What if he hopes to capture you and prove to his world dragons are real?
I say end him,” she said with a shrug. “Reject any flare of guilt afterward.”
She made it sound so easy. “I’m tired of hearing Lockes scream.
” That, and oh, how I hated my weakness.
The total loss of control. The inability to stop, think or resist the compulsion to test a man who would never survive my fire.
The way each man peered at me before he died, as if I were some kind of eternal flame able to right every wrong.
They’d stopped seeing me as a monster ages ago. Now, I was their last chance at survival.
Rejecting guilt wasn’t an option. But ja. My sister was right. I would still go to Professor Locke. The need strengthened with every minute that passed.
“I mean it,” my sister said. “No guilt. We’ve got more important matters to attend to.
Elite warriors are vanishing without a trace, and our father has returned from the dead, as if he is dragonkind’s fabled phoenix, destined to rule us forevermore.
But that can’t be right because the legend claims the phoenix is pure of heart, and that doesn’t describe our illustrious father in the slightest.”
My fingers balled into fists. Leopold should have been our phoenix. But nein. Fate had to choose a psychopath. “I once sheared our father’s head from his body, yet he’s now restrained in our dungeon, alive and well. How could he not be the phoenix?”
I mean, legends got things wrong all the time. King Cedric wasn’t just un-pure of heart; he hadn’t died in ash, the other specification. And yet, his head had reattached itself. Not a feat a regular dragon-berserker could perform.
On the other hand, it might have nothing to do with him and everything to do with the goddess who’d restored him, along with eight other primordials once thought long lost.
“Maybe he’s the phoenix, maybe he isn’t. Either way, he’s still a problem,” Adelaide said. “The royal council believes father cannot be killed—by you. Some whisper of removing you from power so they can end him.”
“As if they can.” Since his capture, I’d personally stabbed, mauled and burned him.
“Nothing takes.”
My sister nodded. “Well, something needs to be done, or the whispers will grow into a roar.”
A problem I’d encountered when I’d first taken the crown.
Many had challenged me and died for it. “The council has forgotten who they’re dealing with, and what the Drachenveil daughters are capable of.
” I drew in a deep breath. “But I’ve heard whispers, too.
There’s talk of wedding you off to whoever manages to kill him. ”