House of Dragons Page 3

  3

  The Tournament

  Someone was shaking her awake.

  Kerrigan groaned. “Just one more minute.”

  “Kerrigan, are you out of your mind?”

  Her eyes flew open to find a tall boy with short blue hair staring down at her. “Hadrian?”

  “Yes, it’s me, you dolt. What are you still doing in the Wastes?” he demanded. “You were supposed to be at the arena hours ago.”

  She jolted out of bed, her heart racing like she’d just performed a tight roll on a dragon’s back. She rubbed her hands over her eyes as she realized where she was. She was in Clover’s room. Her room in the Wastes. Oh gods!

  “The tournament!” she gasped.

  “Yes! You didn’t come home last night. We’re were all worried. I drew the short straw to come here and collect you.”

  “Can you keep it down?” Clover grumbled from the pallet next to Kerrigan.

  “Clover, get up! It’s the day of the tournament.”

  “Scales,” Clover gasped, rolling over with wide eyes. “Are we late?”

  “Late?” Hadrian asked with a stilted laugh. “We’ll be lucky if we make the trek back to the mountain before it starts. Now, get up. Let’s go.”

  With this new information, both girls moved at lightning speed, throwing on fresh clothes, and scrambling out of the room.

  Gods, how had this happened? She wasn’t particularly punctual, but she had never wanted to miss something this important. Then the night before came back to her—the fight, the winnings, Basem Nix.

  She winced. She’d fought Basem Nix. Scales. That wasn’t good. She had never seen Basem in person before, but she sure as hell knew his name. And the echo of it still rang in her ears. He was full-blooded Fae, had money, and enough connections to make her shiver. She hoped that she never came across him again.

  “This way,” Clover said, grasping Hadrian’s collar and throwing him toward another set of stairs.

  Kerrigan followed at a close clip. They burst out a side door that led into the Dregs, all a little breathless from the climb.

  “You are going to be in so much trouble,” Hadrian said as they started forward through the crowded streets.

  “I know. Don’t remind me,” Kerrigan grumbled.

  “You’ve always been reckless, but this is next level,” he said.

  “Hey, leave her alone, pretty boy,” Clover cut in.

  He shot a seething glare at Clover. “Did you really have to come in that?”

  She glanced down at the Wastes uniform she’d donned without thought and then shrugged with a smirk. “You don’t like it.”

  “Leave it,” she snapped at Hadrian. “I’m tired enough without hearing you two always at each other’s throats.”

  Kinkadia was arranged into six main quadrants on the city. The largest section the Dregs lay to the north and west. Central, which was full to the brim with markets, merchants, inns, and taverns, especially with all the tourists in town for the tournament. Row to the east was the nicest, most affluent part of the city with wide lanes, freshly manicured parks, and stately mansions for the Fae aristocracy. Riverfront, a new money section of the city, lay southwest and Artisan Village filled with artists to the southeast.

  And the final section was the mountain. Draco Mountain towered high above everything. It housed the Society, a talented company of dragon riders and the formal government of the country, as well as her home—House of Dragons.

  “I should stop being surprised that you don’t care about being Dragon Blessed,” Hadrian grumbled.

  “I do care,” Kerrigan spat back.

  “Dragon Blessed is only the greatest honor of a lifetime.”

  “I know the spiel. The House of Dragons is an elite training program for Fae.”

  She touched her ears. Fae. Not half-Fae. But no one had argued with her royal father when he’d dropped her off apparently.

  “It’s more than that. It’s our duty to help raise the dragons, to better ourselves, to one day get to return to the world and make a difference, Kerrigan. And you’re squandering it all.”

  Clover rolled her eyes. “It’s not like she dropped out of the program.”

  “She can’t drop out,” Hadrian said as they finally passed the Square at the center of the Central district and turned south bending toward the arena. “That’s not possible.”

  “I’m not dropping out anyway. I just miscalculated the time. I know how important the dragon tournament is.”

  And she did. It was single-handedly the most important event in all of Alandria. Every five years, the twelve tribes came together and presented competitors to enter the tournament. A contestant was chosen out of each tribe to compete in three tasks. The winner of the event won not only a dragon but a place in the Society, a place in the ruling class. And this year there were five dragons up for grabs. The most in nearly a century. It was going to be a spectacle to behold.

  It was Hadrian’s turn to look exasperated. “You’re not acting like it.”

  “Yeah well…”

  Clover punched Hadrian in the arm. “She had a rough night.”

  “This is too important.” He dragged Kerrigan to a stop. She looked into his honey eyes and at his golden-brown skin. Saw the boy who had stood by her side all of these years. “You remember what happened five years ago. A human foreigner entered the tournament. She won a dragon and then left. She dismantled the entire system. This year has to go off without a hitch or we’re going to have riots in the streets… again.”

  “I know,” Kerrigan whispered.

  She could hear Hadrian’s concern. And she remembered exactly what it had been like five years ago. She had gotten caught in those riots… and nearly died.

  “Are we going to go to the arena or what?” Clover asked through pants.

  “Yes,” Hadrian and Kerrigan said together.

  They finally pushed out of the crowded alleyways and to the entrance of the arena, which loomed in the shadow of the mountain. She panted as she stared up at the giant construction. They were late. They were so late.

  Hadrian led the way to the box that was reserved for the House of Dragons. He opened the door, looked around once for Mistress Moran, the keeper and guardian of all Dragon Blessed, and then when he saw no one, ushered them inside.

  A figure stood pacing anxiously in the darkness. She jumped when the door opened and her midnight eyes rounded into saucers “Kerrigan!” she gushed, throwing her arms around her roommate.

  “Darby,” Kerrigan said with a laugh.

  Darby laughed demurely and released her. “Hadrian, here to save the day, as usual. Where was she?”

  Hadrian rolled his eyes and then gestured to Clover standing behind her. Clover’s hands were in the pockets of her black slacks. She still wore the red button-up shirt and black vest that denoted she worked for Dozan.

  “Hi, Clover,” Darby said, ducking her chin to her chest at the sight of her long-time crush.

  “Hey, Darbs,” Clover said with a wink.

  “If Mistress Moran sees her in that outfit…” Hadrian said with a sigh, pressing his fingers to his temples. “I should have told you to change.”

  “Hey, no sweat off my back, sweetheart,” Clover said, retreating into street slang as she put up a defensive position against Hadrian.

  No matter how often they were together, he always raised her hackles.

  “I brought an extra set of clothes,” Darby said hastily. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out a frock. She shrugged as she glanced at Kerrigan “They were for you.”

  “Perfect,” Kerrigan cried and snatched the clothes up to give to Clover.

  “I’m not sure I’d say it’s perfect,” Hadrian muttered.

  Kerrigan slung an arm around Darby as Clover went to change.

  “Did we miss anything?” Kerrigan asked.

  “Just a few speeches. We should hurry so we don’t miss the dragon presentations.”

  Though Kerrigan had ma
ny reasons to distrust this world, Darby and Hadrian certainly weren’t part of that. Together, they were her rock.

  Hadrian the straight-laced practical type, who always sighed when she ran straight into danger. And Darby her perfectly coiffed and manicured healer, who never fled from the sight of blood and at the same time somehow, wanted to be a lady in a royal court.

  Darby was truly her opposite in every way. Soft and lithe with midnight skin instead of hard and fit and spattered in freckles. Long, straight black hair and depthless black eyes while Kerrigan had her mess of tangled curls, and her eyes were so green, they rivaled the emeralds mined in the north. Darby was soft-spoken, ever polite, and the best in their year for all things dancing, etiquette, and propriety.

  “Let me see what I can do with your hair,” Darby said, settling Kerrigan into a seat.

  “And my nose,” Kerrigan muttered. “I think it’s broken.”

  Darby sighed. “This will hurt.”

  “Just do it.”

  She reached up, pressing her fingers to Kerrigan’s nose. Then, a crack sounded out again in the quiet. Kerrigan bit her lip to keep from crying out. It hurt just as bad as when she’d broken it.

  “I wish I knew how to do more with my healing magic,” Darby lamented.

  “You’ve come such a long way. At least my nose won’t be crooked.”

  Darby laughed as she set Kerrigan down to try to control her curls. “I suppose that’s a benefit.”

  Then, Clover stepped out of the shadows in an oatmeal-colored tunic dress with a black belt wrapped tight around her narrow waist, accentuating her curvy figure. A long, tarnished gold chain was tucked into the front.

  Kerrigan felt more than heard Darby’s breath catch at the sight of Clover. She squeezed her friend’s hand.

  Darby had confided to Kerrigan that she liked girls years ago. But Kerrigan had never seen Darby have a crush until they started hanging out with Clover a year ago.

  “I look like an idiot,” Clover said, breaking the silence. She plucked at the dress.

  “You look great,” Kerrigan reassured her.

  Just then, a cheer rose up from the stadium. They jumped at the noise and raced to the front of the House of Dragons box where the rest of the Dragon Blessed were congregated. Hadrian elbowed his way to the front and they all gazed out across the sand-strewn arena.

  The arena was a long oval construction with graduated stands that went up and up and up. Besides the House of Dragons box on floor level, there were a series of boxes high above the rest of the stadium crowd where the master of ceremonies and the wealthy aristocracy could watch the proceedings.

  “What’s happening?” Darby asked from Kerrigan’s side.

  And then they got their answer. A dragon swooped down into the stadium and another roar rushed through the crowd.

  “Avirix,” Hadrian whispered.

  The House of Dragons, first and foremost, helped raise the young dragons. Every Dragon Blessed knew each dragon by name. Over the years, they had all grown close to certain dragons. The hardest part about leaving the House of Dragons was going to be leaving the dragons.

  Kerrigan would recognize Avirix anywhere for his bright seafoam green scales. He was the largest dragon of the five who were part of the tournament this year, but he made up for his scary demeanor by always being in perpetual good spirits.

  After Avirix left, a bright red jewel soared into the arena. Netta was a nimble flyer. One of the reasons Kerrigan loved her so. They had long been friends, as they shared the same mischievous nature.

  “Oh!” Clover gasped when Tieran burst into the arena next.

  He was the most beautiful of them all. His scales were midnight blue and glistened in the light. Though he was one of the smallest dragons, he was completely adept at every maneuver. Unfortunately, he was also a total jerk.

  Darby reached her hand out with wide eyes as Luxor shot out into the arena with his sapphire-blue scales and muscular form. Luxor was one of Darby’s favorites despite the fact that he still didn’t understand sarcasm or figures of speech.

  But it was Evien that made Kerrigan lean out as she sailed into the arena with her majestic purple scales. Evien, like Kerrigan, loved to fly more than any other. They used to sneak out together and take to the skies. The pain that she wasn’t going to be able to do that much longer hit her fresh.

  Now that the dragons had been displayed, it was time for the twelve tribes to present their potential candidates for the tournament. Anyone over the age of eighteen could submit themselves to be in the tournament as long as they were sponsored by a tribe. After all the potentials were presented, each would be tested, but only one person would be the final candidate for the tournament from each tribe.

  The representatives of the twelve tribes strode into the arena, guided by the sponsor Society member in long, flowing black robes. Each held a banner in their tribe colors with the coat of arms embroidered in black. When a tribe was announced, a cheer went up in the crowd from the others of their home. But it wasn’t until the four blue-and-silver banners denoting the royal lines of Bryonica strode confidently into the stadium that the entire place seemed to erupt at once.

  Kerrigan looked over their faces, wondering if in a different life, she would have known them, would have been one of them. She gritted her teeth and averted her gaze. It hardly mattered now.

  “Look at that pomp,” Clover muttered in distaste. “A hundred potentials? Absurd.”

  “It makes perfect, logical sense,” Darby said. Her voice was earnest.

  “It makes them look desperate,” Clover countered. “Twenty to fifty potential competitors are sufficient to guarantee that you find a champion. A hundred is ridiculous.”

  “It’s a show of strength.”

  “I’d expect that from a warrior tribe. But Bryonica? They’re healers. It’s beneath them.”

  Kerrigan tuned their argument out. Her attention was drawn to what no one else had noticed now that all twelve tribes were assembled. Black smoke was spinning into existence at the center of the arena.

  Black smoke. Her insides coiled as a memory floated back to her from her vision the previous night.

  “Gods, do you see that?” Kerrigan whispered.

  Her friends snapped to attention, taking in what was happening.

  Hadrian touched Kerrigan’s shoulder. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”

  “No,” she lied. She had seen this before, but she had no idea what it meant. Her visions weren’t clear. They didn’t tell her what was going to happen. Only a hazy idea of images. If this were true… what the hell else had it shown her?

  “I thought they had extra security this year,” Clover said.

  “They do,” Darby confirmed.

  Kerrigan frowned. The smoke grew stronger, almost solidifying at the center. Even though she had seen this happen in her dream, it was so much different, watching it happen in reality. How was it even possible? Hundreds of barriers around the arena kept anyone from penetrating the grounds. No one should be able to enter without permission from the Society.

  The crowd grew restless, talking over the master of ceremonies as he attempted to calm the arena. Society members on the ground reached for their magic, stepping forward to protect their contestants. Others in black robes appeared on the outskirts. Kerrigan recognized the protections they were reinforcing on the perimeter. And still, that black cloud continued to spiral.

  Then, just as soon as it had come, the smoke disappeared, and standing at the center of the entire arena was a man dressed from head to toe in black. He was tall—impossibly tall—with long, lean legs in fitted black pants. He wore a suit jacket at the height of fashion with a black shirt buttoned high, nearly to his collar, just barely exposing his pale, nearly translucent throat. He ran a hand back through his dark-as-night hair and then leisurely surveyed the crowd with eyes that were pure sin.

  Kerrigan’s throat bobbed as those eyes cast across her box. Gods, he radiated sinister ene
rgy. And yet, he was the most beautiful person she had ever seen in her life.

  “What is the meaning of this?” the master of ceremonies managed to recover his voice to ask.

  The man tilted his head just slightly and smiled something wicked. “My name is Fordham Ollivier, prince and heir to the House of Shadows. And I have come to enter the dragon tournament and reclaim what was once stolen from us.”

  4

  The Punishment

  “Gods,” Kerrigan breathed out.

  She ground her hands into her eyes. This couldn’t be happening again. It just couldn’t. She didn’t want to see the future. She didn’t want to know that things she had seen in her weird dreams and visions would come true. And she had no idea what would happen now that they had… again.

  None of them had ever particularly spelled out rainbows and sunshine. It usually meant some bad luck for her and that a lot of people would die.

  “Ker, you okay?” Hadrian asked in that calm, authoritative way of his.

  Sometimes, the only person who really understood her was Hadrian. Even though they fought and she drove him crazy with her antics, he was always there when she needed him. No matter what.

  She shook her head but slowly peeled her hands away from her eyes. “This is a nightmare.”

  “They’ll figure it out,” he said confidently.

  They would. Of course. But it spelled disaster.

  The last time someone had entered the dragon tournament against the wishes of the Society, thousands of people had died in the protests. If Kerrigan had seen this prince in her vision, she could hazard a guess that he spelled similar disaster.

  Clover arched a penciled eyebrow. “Headache?”

  She nodded. “Now that the ceremony is over, we should probably get you out of here. Don’t want Moran to find you here.”

  “I want to look at the dark prince a little while longer,” Clover said with a wink. She nudged Darby, who dipped her chin in embarrassment. “He’s quite nice to look at.”