House of Dragons Read online

  House of Dragons

  Royal Houses Book One

  K.A. Linde

  Contents

  Also By K.A. Linde

  Tribes

  1. The Fight

  2. The Wastes

  3. The Tournament

  4. The Punishment

  5. The Dark Prince

  6. The Testing

  7. The Recovery

  8. The Celebration

  9. The Flight

  10. The Ceremony

  11. The Offer

  12. The Arrest

  13. The Shadow

  14. The Dealer

  15. The Bargain

  16. The Job

  17. The First

  18. The Box

  19. The Accident

  20. The Funeral

  21. The Dawn

  22. The Disappointment

  23. The Search

  24. The Assassin

  25. The Knife

  26. The Training

  27. The Baths

  28. The Tip

  29. The Weapons Deal

  30. The Second

  31. The Fall

  32. The Black House

  33. The Crime Lord

  34. The Explosion

  35. The Weapons Training

  36. The Artisan Village

  37. The South

  38. The Threat

  39. The Party

  40. The Trio

  41. The Past

  42. The Hostages

  43. The Guest

  44. The Big Fight

  45. The Rescue

  46. The Third

  47. The Forest

  48. The Raven Flight

  49. The Nightmare

  50. The Bonding

  51. The Return

  52. The Smoke

  53. The Ruling

  54. The Spirit

  55. The Red Mask

  The Affiliate

  Also By K.A. Linde

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  A L S O B Y K. A. L I N D E

  ROYAL HOUSES

  House of Dragons

  * * *

  ASCENSION

  The Affiliate

  The Bound

  The Consort

  The Society

  The Domina

  House of Dragons

  Copyright © 2020 by K.A. Linde

  All rights reserved.

  * * *

  Visit my website at

  www.kalinde.com

  * * *

  Formatting and Map Design: Devin McCain, www.studio5twentyfive.com

  Cover Designer: Okay Creations.

  www.okaycreations.com

  Editor: Unforeseen Editing

  www.unforeseenediting.com

  * * *

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  ISBN-13: 978-1948427425

  Pronunciation Guide

  CHARACTERS

  Amond—Uh-mond

  Audria Ather—Aud-ree-uh Ath-er

  Basem Nix—Bay-sum Nix

  Master Bastian—Bast-yun

  Master Callian—Cal-yen

  Chelcie—Chel-See

  Clare Rahllins —Clair Rah-lihns

  Clover—Clove-er

  Mistress Cressida—Cruh-see-duh

  Darby—Dar-bee

  Darrid—Dare-id

  Dozan Rook—Doe-zen Rook

  Ellerby Emberton—Ell-er-bee Em-ber-tun

  Ever—Ev-er

  Fallon—Fal-uhn

  Master Fillion—Fil-ee-un

  Hadrian—Hay-dree-en

  Mistress Hellina “Helly”—Hell-ee-nuh; Hell-ee

  Isa—Ee-suh

  Javel—Jah-vel

  Kamari—Kuh-mar-ee

  Kenris—Ken-ris

  Keres—Kerr-is

  Kerrigan Argon—Care-ih-gen Arh-gone

  Lord Kivrin Argon—Kiv-rin Arh-gone

  Mistress Layla—Lay-luh

  Master Lorian – Lor-ee-uhn

  Lyam—Lee-um

  Mistress Moran—Mor-in

  Noda—No-duh

  Parris—Pear-is

  Posana—Poe-sohn-uh

  Prince Fordham Ollivier—Ford-um Ah-liv-ee-aye

  Roake—Roke

  Mistress Sinead—Sih-nayd

  Lady Sonali—Suh-nahl-ee

  Taiga—Tay-guh

  Valero—Vuh-lair-o

  Valia—Val-ee-uh

  DRAGONS

  Avirix—Uh-veer-ix

  Evien—Ev-ee-en

  Gelryn—Gehl-rin

  Luxor—Lux-er

  Netta—Net-uh

  Tavry—Tahv-ree

  Tieran—Teer-en

  Tribes

  The twelve tribes of Alandria were split into four groups based on how they perceived the use of magic: Woodloch to the wooded west, Viland to the hills of the east, Tosin to the mountains of the north, and Moran to the rocky south. Though the twelve tribes are autonomous, the Society rules over all.

  * * *

  WOODLOCH

  Magic should be used for might.

  (warriors, weapons, armor)

  * * *

  Galanthea

  Herasi

  Venatrix

  * * *

  VILAND

  Magic should be used for good.

  (healing, medicine, art)

  * * *

  Bryonica

  Concha

  Ibarra

  * * *

  TOSIN

  Magic should be used for efficiency.

  (everyday tasks, mining, travel)

  * * *

  Erewa

  Sayair

  Zavala

  * * *

  MORAN

  Magic should be used for nothing.

  (magical artifacts)

  * * *

  Aude

  Elsiande

  Genoa

  1

  The Fight

  Kerrigan was losing.

  Blood dripped into her eye from a gash at her brow. Her feet danced back and forth on the hard stone floor, light and eager with her hands protecting her face—little good it had done.

  Her form was in complete contrast to the bruiser before her. He was nearly seven feet tall and built like the haunches of a dragon—massive and muscular. Though he was all power and no finesse.

  “You going to dance on your twinkle toes all day, or are we going to fight?” Bruiser grunted.

  “I was considering it,” she bit back.

  He laughed gruffly. “Fine. Make it easy for me, Red.”

  Bruiser stepped forward, using his limited elemental magic to give him an edge as he rushed toward her. The earth rattled beneath her feet, and she shuffled side to side in an attempt to stay upright. But then he was in front of her, his eyes keen on victory before his fist even shot for her face.

  She blocked him with her forearm, taking a bone-crunching amount of pressure. Then she dodged the second blow and used a trickle of air to shove his fist out of the way. She hated being on the defensive, but she’d never seen Bruiser fight before. She always spent the first couple of minutes discovering her opponent’s strengths and weaknesses, assessing the situation to her advantage. Unfortunately, that meant getting punched in the stomach with
a giant rock.

  All the air gasped out of Kerrigan’s lungs as she was propelled backward into the ropes. She collapsed forward onto her knees, coughing spastically. She spat blood onto the floor. An offering to whatever gods were watching.

  Her eyes lifted. Bruiser was smirking, holding his hands up to the crowd as if he’d already won the match. Overconfident, arrogant bastard.

  She heaved herself back to her feet and kicked the rock he’d thrown off the edge of the ring. Her bright red mess of hair had come out of its braid with that throw, and now, unruly curls framed her narrow face.

  At least her gold headband still held. She had no interest in revealing her short, barely pointed ears.

  “You still in it?” Bruiser taunted as he sauntered in her direction. He didn’t even lift his defenses. He didn’t so much as reach for a speck of earth. He was used to using his fists and getting his way. “Poor little thing. I’m going to have to put you to sleep.”

  “We’ll see if you can, Bruiser.”

  Kerrigan’s eyes blurred at the edges. The fumes from the Wastes—the deplorable underground crime building where she was currently fighting—sure didn’t help matters. The Dragon Ring was on the bottom level and smelled like stale ale and blood and vomit. She preferred it down here to nearly everything up above but, gods, the smell.

  It was all the worse because her eyes teared up. Gods, she looked like an amateur.

  A small smile cracked her frightened facade.

  Sometimes, looking like an amateur worked to her advantage.

  Kerrigan jabbed out with her left hand, swirling the sand on the ground into a tight cyclone. She swung it in an arc before throwing it.

  Bruiser’s eyes widened in shock. Then he dove out of the way of the maelstrom. Too slow. The sand yanked him off his feet and threw him halfway across the ring. He rolled over his shoulder and came back up in a crouch. His beady eyes assessed her more strategically than when he’d casually tried to beat her face in.

  Kerrigan was losing …on purpose.

  After nearly a dozen fights, she had learned that no one wanted the fight to end too soon. And no one wanted it to end without blood.

  The only thing more important than Dozan Rook in these halls—blood.

  Blood was the real king of the Wastes.

  Bruiser hauled himself up onto his feet again. He shook the sand out of his dark hair and then ran toward her. His feet plodded hard against the packed earth. His hulking figure could make elephants look nimble. Still, she waited with her hands at her sides, ready to strike when he was closer.

  Kerrigan lifted her hand and slashed downward, cutting the front of his shirt open. Blood welled dark red against the dull beige of his shirt. He slammed to a halt, staring down in bewilderment at the cut.

  Cheers rang out overhead.

  The uproarious, drunken crowd was chanting her name, “Red! Red! Red!”

  “I’ll paint you red by the end of this,” Bruiser taunted. He flexed his muscles.

  Kerrigan lifted her hands again and gestured him forward.

  Then, a rock slammed into the back of her head. She gasped and crumbled forward, landing hard on her hands. Her magic wavered in her veins as she blinked away the pain. She couldn’t see straight.

  Not good. Scales, that hurt.

  Kerrigan wrapped her magic around Bruiser’s ankles, yanking hard and fast, felling him like a tree.

  He cried out in anger. Good. The fight had finally started.

  She heard a whoosh and looked up just in time to dodge the rock that would have crushed in the back of her skull. She rolled out from under it. Another gasp escaped her lungs. That had been too close.

  Another rock crashed into her back as she tried to get up.

  “Gods,” she groaned as she slammed back into the hard floor.

  She rolled away again and came swiftly to her feet. Her back ached already.

  Bruiser was smiling as if he were already victorious. He raised his hands to the sky, pumping up the raucous crowd. Kerrigan picked up the air again and slashed fiercely. The first cut through his bicep, the second down his thigh, the third was supposed to hit his cheek, but he somehow flowed around the wind.

  Her eyes widened. He’d trained with an air Fae? Doubly not good.

  “That’s a neat trick,” she said.

  Bruiser laughed, and as he weaved away from her, and then threw dust right into her eyes. She slammed them shut on instinct, crying out in shock. There were no rules in the Wastes. Certainly none inside the Dragon Ring. But it was dirty play. Dirty, dirty play.

  She blinked rapidly, tears welling as the grit ground into her eyes. Concentrating so hard on her eyes, she didn’t hear the rock that catapulted into her nose. Something snapped, and she cried out. Blood gushed from the wound.

  Her eyes flashed cold death to her opponent. Now …she wasn’t losing on purpose.

  “Say good night, Red,” Bruiser said.

  Kerrigan lifted her hand. She was barely able to see through the sand in her eyes, but her own anger propelled her forward. She froze the air around Bruiser and held him tight in her grasp so that he couldn’t even blink without her permission. If she wanted, if she had the strength, she could crush him right where he stood.

  Her hand shook, just holding him in place. It took an immense amount of power to be able to do what she was doing. More than she had claimed to have when she started this fight.

  She needed to let him go. She needed to dispel her anger and release him. If she didn’t, she was going to pay for it later.

  “Go back to the underworld you came from,” she growled.

  She dropped her magic at the same time that she brought her knee up to his balls with a satisfying squelch. He doubled over in pain. Then, she reared back and punched him in his face. He fell backward with the force of her strike. Her knuckles split, and she couldn’t stop her hands from shaking.

  But there was only one end here: the end where she won.

  She stepped over Bruiser’s body and kicked him in the temple. A perfectly placed shot to knock him out but not kill him.

  The crowd went wild. Cheers and shouts and objects fell from the sky above to litter the Dragon Ring while a man hobbled hastily into the ring and held her arm up.

  “Winner goes to Red!”

  After the fanfare, Kerrigan stumbled out of the fighting ring and into the back room—where, typically, a small weasel of a man waited to give her the earnings from the fight.

  That man wasn’t there.

  In his place stood the owner and proprietor of the Wastes and the biggest crime lord in the city of Kinkadia—Dozan Rook.

  “Dozan,” Kerrigan said through gritted teeth.

  She could barely stand. Her nose ached from that last hit. It was definitely broken. Her back was probably already black and blue. Still, she straightened and held her chin up high. She would never let him see that on her.

  “Red,” Dozan said with his cocky smirk.

  “How can I help you?” she drawled lazily.

  “You can take off that ridiculous headband. No one to hide from down here.”

  Kerrigan frowned and tugged the gold headband free, releasing her bright red hair from its trapping and revealing the delicately pointed ears beneath. The ears that revealed her for what she truly was—half-Fae, half-human.

  Full-blooded Fae had sharply pointed ears. And full-blooded Fae was the only right thing to be in Kinkadia.

  Up above, in the city of Kinkadia, half-Fae were persecuted for their heritage. They were looked down upon by the High Fae and much of the ruling class. Many believed that half-Fae shouldn’t even exist especially if they had even a hint of magic. She’d gotten used to hiding her true self. When humans and half-Fae were being beaten in the streets, it was best to remain anonymous.

  It was one of the main reasons that she felt so comfortable in the Wastes. No one in this den of iniquity cared whether a person was human, half-Fae, or Fae. They were all too high, drunk, or broke. Un
like above, where she was ridiculed for being lesser, the Wastes had only ever drawn her in as their own. She fought here, she made friends here, and despite her past business with Dozan, he protected her within this bed of sin.

  “Do you have my winnings?” Kerrigan asked.

  “I do indeed.”

  Dozan slid his hand into the inside of his tailored black suit. The cut accentuated his muscular build. He wore the white shirt with a black vest and jacket, complete with a Wastes red cravat at his neck. His hand was nimble, producing a red velvet bag heavy with gold marks, just like the ruthless pickpocket who had taken over the underground.

  “Here you are.” He set the bag in her hand. It held way more than what she should have earned. His almost-golden eyes glittered with defiance, as if waiting for her to suggest that it was too much money.