The Dragon Mistress: Book 1

SAMPLE CHAPTERS

Chapter 1: Stranger in a Strange Land

“I CAN’T BELIEVE THOSE bastards stole my horse. Damn it, I liked that horse.”

The sun blazed above me, unmoved by my lament. I knew, deep down, that my lost horse should not have been my first concern. Lying bruised and beaten by the side of the road as I was—with no food, no water, and the punishing heat beating down on my aching head—the loss of the weedy little chestnut mare I’d purchased in the port town of Adumine was the least of my worries.

Stop whining, Frella. It could have been worse, I tried to tell myself.

I’d done my best to fight off the bandits when they rode up and surrounded us, but there were four of them, and the pair of no-good cheats I’d been traveling with had obviously been in on the whole thing from the start—leading me straight into a trap.

I only had two throwing knives on me. One had stuck in a bandit’s leather chest armor, failing to penetrate the flesh beneath. The other knife found the meat of a second man’s thigh, but he’d only yanked it out, cursing, and charged at me on horseback, knocking me from Laduna’s saddle.

The fall stunned me, and I was easy prey after that. The one with the leather armor grabbed me and held me against his broad chest. A meaty hand covered my mouth as I kicked and struggled fruitlessly, trying without success to get any kind of leverage to use against him. He was wearing sturdy half-gloves, so I couldn’t even bite him. His tall, heavy boots meant my attempts to kick his shins or stomp on his toes only made him twist one of my arms painfully behind my back.

“Check her saddlebags,” my captor snapped in Utrean. “She’s foreign, but she’s got money—that’s clear enough.”

The man and woman who’d been riding with me went to catch Laduna, while the other three bandits loitered nearby, leering at me. I could feel my temper rising. That was a bad sign, I knew. Ithric and Keenan had spent years trying to teach me to stay calm during a fight rather than letting my emotions carry me away. The lesson never stuck, unfortunately—and I knew full well why that was, even if I’d never told them in so many words.

I got angry because anger was better than fear.

That was why I started flailing like a madwoman in the leader’s grip—shrieking against the hand muffling my face as the man I’d injured came limping up and grabbed my breast in one blood-soaked paw.

“I’ll teach you a lesson, bitch,” he said, easily dodging my feet as I kicked out. His hand squeezed painfully, and I wrenched against the grip on my arm that threatened to tear something in my shoulder if I continued to struggle.

“We can take turns with her,” said another of the onlookers, his voice high-pitched and sniveling. “I ain’t never seen hair that color before. It’s almost like gold. You think it’s the same color down below?”

The fingers that had been digging into my breast moved to squeeze roughly between my legs, and I screamed again—in rage, I assured myself. A roar of rage—the sound mostly muffled by the hand covering my mouth. My heart pounded against my ribs—also in rage, godsdamnit. I bucked, trying to dislodge the hands even if I dislocated my shoulder in the process.

“Sounds like you’re about to regret throwing those knives in a very big way, little peach,” the man holding me said, not even sounding out of breath from containing my struggles. Smug bastard.

My tunic was made of the light, flowing material favored for travel in the arid uplands east of the coastal port. I regretted that fact as Grabby Hands took hold of the collar and tore it open, ripping it nearly to my navel. Still, the distraction was enough for one of my flailing feet to catch him sharply in the knee, on the same leg I’d pierced earlier with the blade.

He grunted, and the answering fist to my stomach would have doubled me over if Leather Armor hadn’t been holding me upright. I fought the urge to empty my stomach contents. Not only would doing so hurt my aching gut even more—it would also be really, really disgusting, considering Leather Armor’s left hand was still clapped over my mouth.

“Oy!” called one of the two-timing bastards who’d gone after my horse. “Look over there!”

Everyone turned to look in the direction I’d come from. Unfortunately, Leather Armor’s tight hold on me—not to mention the tears of pain in my eyes—meant that I couldn’t see whatever had caused the commotion.

“Son of a poxy whore,” Sniveling Voice cursed. “What’re the odds? Anything good in those saddlebags, Midhan?”

“Yes, there’s food and money,” the woman said. “Some fancy clothing that might fetch a bit, too.”

I tried to crane around and glare at her. What kind of woman stood by while another woman was assaulted by a gang of men? The criminal kind, I supposed, and mentally kicked myself for trusting her and her crooked partner.

“Shit. Stupid bitch!” Grabby Hands snarled. “No time for fun. Let’s just kill her, and fucking go.” He smacked my exposed breast hard, startling a muffled yelp from me.

An angry yelp. Not a girly one. The yelp of someone who was really, really pissed off, and not scared out of her wits in the least.

Leather Armor’s hand fell away from my mouth, in favor of patting me down roughly. In moments, he found the small but heavy coin purse hanging from my belt and yanked it free.

“Nah,” he said. “Just leave her. What’s she gonna do with no food, water, or money? It’s bad luck to kill a woman.”

He gave me a shove and I staggered free, whirling to face him, my mouth hanging open in outrage. “Wait. You were all ready to gang rape me, but killing me would be bad luck? Seriously—what the actual fuck?”

I did mention about my temper, didn’t I?

The gloved fist that flashed toward my face an instant before pain exploded in my right cheekbone probably shouldn’t have come as a surprise. But—not gonna lie, here—the impact as I slammed face-first into the rocky ground, head reeling… well. It was kind of surprising. I was only vaguely aware of the others mounting up and leaving with Laduna in tow, as my consciousness wavered in and out.

And that’s how I found myself lying bruised and battered by the side of the road with no food, no water, no transportation, and my exposed tits slowly turning red under the unforgiving rays of the desert sun. So… yeah. Laduna’s theft maybe shouldn’t have been my biggest concern at that particular point in time.

It also wasn’t the best time to realize that, finally, after almost a dozen years of trying, I had finally had an adventure. And, so far? Adventure sucked donkey cock.

That was certainly disappointing.

I sighed. Assuming I didn’t die of heat stroke right here in the middle of the Utrean desert, I was never breathing a single word of this to Keenan, Ithric, my brother, my guardians back in Draebard, or anyone else. The sky spun in slow circles above me, making me queasy. I closed my eyes against the sight.

Just for a moment, I promised. I’ll just rest here for a moment, until I get my breath back, that’s all. My last thought, before darkness snuck across my mind with stealthy cat’s feet, was to wonder what the men had seen in the distance earlier to make them leave.

* * *

I blinked, my eyes feeling as gritty as the sand that surrounded me. The hazy blob hovering above me solidified into a face. Large. Male. Heavy-featured. What I’d taken for shadows from being backlit was actually skin so dark it looked like polished ebony. Huh. That was strange. Not to mention quite strikingly attractive. I’d never see anyone with skin so dark before. I blinked.

Wait. Big, male, and looming over me?

My heart kicked into life, pounding hard against the walls of my chest. Everything hurt, but I still clenched a fist and swung it toward the man’s throat, hoping for a quick take-down.

Surprise flared in eyes so black I couldn’t see where the pupil ended and the iris began. He jerked a shoulder up to block me, damn him—the movement so fast that my blow rolled off hard muscle instead of bruising a soft windpipe.

“Whoa!” he said, but I was already scrabbling backward, trying to gain enough space to roll to my feet; hoping dizziness wouldn’t send me right back down again.

To my surprise, rather than press his advantage, the man stepped back with his hands raised in a gesture of peace that was almost comical, given his height and massive, muscular frame. A male laugh from somewhere nearby drew my attention, though my balance threatened to desert me when I started to turn. I staggered, but kept my feet.

The laugh was light and clear, nothing like the cruel amusement of the bandits. “Eldris, my friend,” said the laugh’s owner. “You look like you went to stroke a sweet little pussy in the granary and discovered a crouched panther instead!”

I had a confused impression of gray eyes the color of a finely honed steel blade, and long, mahogany-colored hair with a single streak of white running through it. Then my attention was jerked back to the dark-skinned man in front of me, who harrumphed.

“No one wants to hurt you, all right?” he said, still holding his hands palm-out. “I was just checking to see how bad you were injured, that’s all.”

At that point, I realized several things in quick succession. First, my tongue felt like it had swollen up until there was hardly enough room for it in my mouth. Second, there were four people arrayed around me, not just two. In addition to the dark man and the one on horseback who had laughed at me, a woman and another man were mounted nearby. The other man held two additional horses—one saddled for riding and the other carrying a heavy pack with panniers.

The next thing I realized—and perhaps the most important thing so far—was that my ripped tunic still gaped open, leaving one of my breasts half-covered and the other one hanging out for everyone to see. Charming. I fumbled for the light material, pulling it together as best I could.

“Water?” I rasped, fighting my swollen tongue. Swallowing my pride would have been a whole lot easier if my throat weren’t so dry.

The woman had been watching, wide-eyed, from the back of her petite gray horse. She was straight-backed and willowy—effortlessly elegant in a way I never had been and never would be. She had the thick black hair, brown eyes and olive-tinted skin common amongst her countrymen. She was dressed very finely and had an air of delicacy about her that made me think she was from a rich family. Perhaps even nobility.

Now, concern appeared to break her free of her earlier paralysis. “Of course! I’m so terribly sorry for staring,” she said in a sweet, lilting voice. “Aristede, please be so good as to get this poor young woman a drink.”

“Just try to stay out of punching range while you do it,” said the third man—the one holding the horses. His tone was as dry as the desert landscape around us.

The man with the white streak in his long, brown hair—Aristede by name, apparently—snorted in amusement and dismounted, unhooking a waterskin from his saddle. The pull of water was like a lodestone drawing me toward him. He smiled and held out the skin. It was a nice smile, and one I might have been able to appreciate more if I could have torn my eyes away from the water.

“There you go,” he said as I took the water. “Help yourself. We’re well provisioned, and we’re only a day or so out from Safaad.”

The water was stale, lukewarm, and quite possibly the best thing I had ever tasted. When my thirst was slaked, I resisted the urge to pour some of the remaining contents over my head and arms. That might have been acceptable back home on the island of Eburos, but I’d seen enough to know that water was precious in the Utrean uplands.

“Thank you,” I managed, sounding more like myself. I was still bruised and aching, but the dizziness was receding and my vision no longer wavered.

“What on earth happened to you, you poor thing?” the woman asked. “We saw the plume of dust from several riders, but we were too far away to make out any details.”

I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and corked the waterskin before reluctantly handing it back. “I was set on by bandits. They stole my horse and all my belongings.” Just saying the words made the anger flare in my belly once more.

The dark-skinned giant—Eldris—gave my torn tunic a pointed look. “Seems like they were after more than your horse and your supplies.” His expression was stony.

The woman made a noise of dismay. I gritted my teeth, not having any particular desire to discuss it.

“Yeah. Well, you said you saw the dust rising from their horses’ hooves. I guess they saw the dust rising from yours, too. I think that’s what convinced them to leave.”

“Thank goodness for that,” said the woman. “But still—how horrible for you to have gone through such a thing! You must allow us to escort you the rest of the way to Safaad. It’s far too difficult a journey on foot.”

I wasn’t about to pass up that offer. “Thank you,” I said with unfeigned relief. “I think you four may have just saved my life.”

“Don’t give it a second thought,” my sweet-natured savior insisted. “I’m only sorry we didn’t arrive sooner. Now, forgive my manners. My name is Gladya. This is Eldris, and Aristede.” She gestured to the dark-skinned man and the man who’d given me the water, confirming the names I’d already mentally applied to them. “And this is Rayth.” She waved toward the man who was still mounted. Rayth dipped his chin a fraction, but said nothing.

“I’m Frella of Draebard,” I told them. “To say that I’m pleased to make your acquaintance is an understatement, believe me.”

They all smiled except for Rayth.

Aristede cocked his head. “Draebard, eh? I’ve not heard of it. Is that up north somewhere?”

“Way up north,” I told him. “On the Isle of Eburos.”

“Ah,” he said. “That’s quite a journey from here. And it would explain your…” He trailed off, gesturing at his hair in a way that indicated my fair coloring.

“Interesting,” Eldris said. “Are there lots of people with blue eyes and honey-colored hair in the northern lands? I’ve never seen hair that light before.”

We studied each other shamelessly for a moment. “It’s not uncommon,” I said. “Don’t feel bad, though. I’ve never seen someone with ebony skin before. Where are you from?”

“Kulawi,” he said. “It’s also quite a way from here. Right across the Great Southern Desert.”

“Sorry, never heard of it,” I admitted.

The flash of white teeth he gave me had a guarded edge to it. “Maybe just as well,” he said. “Most people are scared when I tell them that.”

“Oh?” I asked.

“The Kulawi people have a reputation for ferocity,” Aristede offered.

“For being brutes, you mean,” Eldris said, and there was a hint of long-buried bitterness lurking behind the words. “People ‘round here consider us savages.”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed. Eldris’ eyes narrowed, but I just shook my head. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just that a lot of people on the continent consider the Eburosi to be barbarians.” I stepped forward and stretched a hand out. “As one barbarian savage to another, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Apologies for the attempted throat-punching thing, by the way.”

His hard expression melted into a smile that transformed his whole face. He clasped me forearm to forearm, his grip firm but not punishing. “Barbarian, eh? I like that. Pleased to meet you, too.” He let go, and made a vague gesture toward my torso. “And, uh, your tits are hanging out again. Thought you might want to know.”

“Crap.” I clutched at the torn tunic, feeling my traitorous northern skin flush with embarrassed heat. At least the sunburn would keep it from being as noticeable to the others. Probably.

Gladya dismounted and led her gray over to the pack horse, where she rummaged through one of the panniers. “Let me get you something to wear. I’m afraid what you’re wearing now is a bit beyond help.”

She pulled out a silky length of ivory-colored cloth and handed it to me with a hesitant smile.

“Thank you,” I said with feeling. Modesty seemed a bit ridiculous since I’d already flashed all of them more than once, so I just turned my back and quickly stripped off the ruined tunic, replacing it with the borrowed one.

It was too snug in places—Gladya was a tall, slender woman, and I was all short, plump curves that never seemed to diminish no matter how hard or strong the muscles underneath grew. Beggars couldn’t be choosers, though, unless I wanted to try to borrow a shirt from one of the men.

I turned around, and could have sworn I saw Aristede staring at my slightly squished cleavage before he dragged his eyes back to my face and pasted on a pleasant expression.

“We should leave,” Rayth said. “An extra rider will slow us down, and we’ve lingered here long enough as it is.”

Oh? Sorry I messed up your carefully laid itinerary, Sunshine, I thought, though fortunately I had regained enough presence of mind by that point not to say it aloud.

“I’m game,” I said aloud. “How do you want to do this?”

Rayth gave the group a quick once-over. “Ride with Aristede. His horse can carry two. If the mare starts to flag, I’ll take you for a bit.”

Ride with Rayth? Be still my heart. Hopefully, Aristede’s mare wouldn’t flag. I resolved to think light and airy thoughts.

“Fine by me,” I told him. “Aristede?”

“It would be my pleasure,” he assured me. He returned the half-empty waterskin he’d offered me to its place at the front of his saddle and offered Gladya a bent knee to use as a mounting aid. She climbed delicately onto the little gray horse and flashed me an encouraging smile. From the corner of my eye, I saw Eldris mount his sturdy chestnut gelding.

Aristede gestured at his rather magnificent bay mare, offering me a leg up. I waved him off.

“You first,” I said. “If you’ll lend me an arm, I can swing up behind you.”

He shrugged agreement and lifted himself smoothly into the saddle. Leaning down a bit, he proffered a bent elbow. I grasped it, taking two quick steps and forcing overtaxed muscles to spring, pivoting my body around the fulcrum of his strong arm to swing my leg up and over. He lifted at the same time I jumped, and I settled into place behind him with only a bit of of shifting and scooting to center myself.

“Impressive,” he said, sounding amused. “Do all northern barbarians learn how to leap onto horses’ backs like that as a matter of course?”

I snorted and wrapped an arm around his stomach, not above taking a moment to appreciate the firm body in front of me. He’d made vaulting up here easy, using exactly the right timing and amount of force to help me.

“Only the ones who were raised by a village Horse Mistress, I’m afraid. Honestly, in most clans on Eburos, women don’t ride or work much with animals. It’s, um, kind of a cultural thing.”

A stupid cultural thing, I didn’t add.

“Oh, I’d hate to be reliant on wagons or riding with a man to get from place to place,” Gladya said. “Good for you and your Horse Mistress for ignoring such a silly rule!”

I nodded. “I was relieved when I got to Adumine, and found that no one blinked an eye at selling me a horse.” The reminder of Laduna, my little chestnut mare, brought the simmering anger in my gut back to a boil. “I still can’t believe those no good bastards stole her. I swear to the gods, I’m going to track them down and make them pay. I’ll get that mare back if it’s the last thing I do.”

I realized that I was squeezing Aristede a little tighter than was probably polite, though he’d uttered no complaint. I eased off, feeling a bit sheepish.

“And how, exactly, do you propose to undertake your righteous crusade?” Rayth said with the air of dismissiveness that I was already coming to loathe. “The bandits have a significant head start on us, and will have sold your horse and belongings before we ever reach Safaad. Once they do, they’ll be gone like smoke on the wind.”

Damn him—it’s not like I’d asked anyone to bring logic into the discussion.

“I’ll figure something out,” I said, biting off the words.

“What in the name of sanity were you doing traveling from Adumine to Safaad alone in the first place?” Rayth asked, and he didn’t have to finish with the words you idiot woman for me to hear them loud and clear.

“I wasn’t traveling alone,” I snapped. “The caravan I was supposed to travel with canceled at the last moment. The ship carrying the goods they’d planned to transport sank off the coast. I eventually found a man and a woman who were heading this way and who agreed to take me.” My lips twisted. “Unfortunately, they apparently make their living by leading unsuspecting travelers right into the bandits’ hands in exchange for a cut of the spoils.”

Aristede grunted in distaste. “That’s unfortunate. Do you remember anything distinguishing about the bandits?” he asked, rather more practically.

I silently thanked him for moving the conversation away from my humiliating exercise in poor judgment. “I could describe the couple I was riding with in detail. The man went by the name Omerah, and the woman was called Midhan.” I went on to describe the four men who had set upon me as best I could.

Eldris grunted. “Nothing out of the ordinary in any of that, sad to say.”

“And both Omerah and Midhan are fairly common names near the coast,” Gladya added. “What about their horses?”

“Also common,” I said. “No unusual markings, and not highly bred or particularly well cared for. Their tack was old and not very good quality.” I flashed back to Grabby Hands charging at me on his plain chestnut gelding after I’d skewered his leg. “One of them did have an odd marking embroidered on the corner of his saddle cloth. It was faded, but it looked like a triangle with a line extending out from each of the three corners, and the lines ended in identical spirals. It was done in dark thread, and the saddle cloth was light-colored.”

Rayth reined in his dun stallion and turned to look at me, brown eyes intent. “A triskelion?” he asked.

“If a triskelion is three spiral lines meeting to form a triangle at the center, then… yes?” I said.

“That mean something to you?” Eldris prodded, his attention focused on Rayth.

Rayth urged his horse into motion again, his face closing off. “It’s the mark of Prince Oblisii. His personal crest.”

Gladya made a noise of surprise. “Are you saying that one of these bandits worked for the prince?” she asked, sounding scandalized. “That doesn’t make sense.”

“Much more likely that the bandit stole a saddle cloth from someone under the prince’s employ,” Aristede said mildly. “Possibly also the horse it was attached to.”

I looked back and forth between them. “Right. So, who’s this Prince Oblisii, exactly?” I asked.

Chapter 2: When in Utrea

RAYTH MUTTERED SOMETHING I couldn’t make out. It didn’t sound flattering.

Gladya trotted up to ride even with Aristede’s horse. “He’s the crown prince of Utrea, of course! King Khalafu’s son. He wouldn’t have anything to do with common bandits, I’m certain.”

I thought about that for a bit.

“Even so,” I said, “it seems like he’d want to know if someone wearing his crest was out attacking travelers in the desert. And he’d also want to know if his own men were being waylaid and their belongings stolen by bandits. I could petition the king…”

Rayth gave a quiet snort. I met his gaze with a hard look and raised an eyebrow at him.

“What?” I snapped. “You haven’t exactly met me at my best, it’s true—but I do happen to be the adopted daughter of one of the most powerful leaders on Eburos. Well… two of the most powerful leaders, I suppose. Have you heard of Senovo, the Wolf Priest of Draebard?”

“No,” Rayth said. Gladya and Eldris echoed him with apologetic shrugs.

Aristede craned around to look at me over his shoulder, though. “The one who’s supposed to be a shape-shifter?” he asked. “And who was mixed up in that Alyrion incursion back when I was a lad?” He made a considering noise. “I always assumed that story was just an embellishment to make the Alyrion defeat sound a bit less humiliating than it actually was.”

I looked at Aristede’s sharply sculpted features in a new light. It was all too easy to be drawn by his striking long hair with that odd white streak sweeping back from his forehead, and not notice the rest. But that patrician nose… those high cheekbones…

“Wait. Are you Alyrion?” I asked, feeling an odd twist of my stomach at the idea I might be riding with one of my people’s longtime enemies.

I felt the muscles in his back stiffen for a moment before he seemed to consciously relax them.

“Me? I’m nobody in particular,” he said in an easy, self-deprecating tone. “Though it is true I’m a nobody who was born on the western peninsula of Alyrios. I haven’t lived there in many years. But do go on. You were speaking of your wolf priest?”

I took a breath and let it go. This was Utrea, not Alyrios. And, besides, while the Alyrions were responsible—indirectly, at least—for the death of my father and many other people I’d known as a girl, they’d maintained an uneasy peace with Eburos for more than a decade now. And the man seated in front of me was too young to have ever personally done anything to my home or loved ones.

“Senovo isn’t a legend,” I said, returning to the topic at hand. “He raised my brother and me after our parents died. So did the Draebardi chieftain who organized the defense against the Alyrion invasion.”

“And your Horse Mistress, as well?” Gladya asked, looking at me curiously. “You were raised by three people?”

“Yes,” I said, realizing I sounded a bit combative. I shook my head. “Look, it’s kind of a long story. Suffice to say, I’ve got enough family connections to support a petition to the king, or at least to the prince. If nothing else, maybe I can get the authorities to go after these bandits, even if I can’t track them down myself.”

“Well,” Gladya offered, “if there’s anything I can do to help, I’ll be happy to. I’m traveling to Safaad to meet my fiancé so we can finally get married. He’s a distant nephew of the king’s. I can ask him to put in a word for you, if you’d like.”

I smiled at her, my earlier irritation fading. “Honestly, Gladya, I don’t feel right asking you for anything else. You and your… uh—” I paused, not entirely what her connection was with the three men.

“Hired guards,” Aristede supplied, sounding faintly amused.

“You and your guards have already done more than I can possibly repay,” I finished.

Though I couldn’t help being a bit jealous of Gladya’s luck with choosing traveling companions compared to my own. Not only were the trio not backstabbing thieves—they were also quite a bit prettier to look at than either Omerah or Midhan had been.

And Rayth probably couldn’t help being an aggravating sod. Maybe he’d had an unhappy upbringing or something, I thought charitably.

“Oh, come now,” Gladya said, her full lips curving upwards, “we were hardly going to leave you lying insensible by the side of the road, now were we?”

“Believe me—my poor, sunburned breasts are eternally thankful for that fact,” I told her, and felt Aristede’s body move in silent laughter under my loose grip.

I relaxed against him, letting the mare’s rolling gait lull my exhausted body as her hooves ate up the dusty road beneath us.

* * *

We rode until nearly dusk, when the path dipped into a valley dotted with the first plant life I’d seen since leaving Adumine and entering the uplands. I roused myself enough to look around.

“Is this the river Omerah talked about?” I asked, trying to peer into the lengthening shadows ahead of us.

Eldris snorted. “River? That’s being generous.”

The horses perked up, sniffing the air and increasing their pace without being urged. I tightened my grip on Aristede as his mare leapt into an easy canter, and he put a hand over my forearm to steady me.

“Snow melt from the mountains turns it into a reasonable watercourse during the spring,” he said. “But I’m afraid at this time of year it’s more of a runnel, when it’s not completely dry. Still, the horses’ reaction proves there’s still water to be had for them.”

My brief fantasy of a proper wash faded away as the animals descended the sandy bank, revealing darker earth at the bottom, broken only by the occasional puddle. Nonetheless, the horses enthusiastically waded into the shallow mud and started pawing at whatever tiny pool was nearest, widening and deepening the holes to reveal more muddy water as it seeped in. They drank thirstily, apparently unconcerned by its unappealing brown color.

“I suppose beggars can’t be choosers,” I offered. “I never really appreciated the importance of easy access to water before this.”

“That’s why the only people who live in the desert are nomads,” Aristede said. “It’s not so bad in the spring. Then, when it dries up, they simply pack their things and drive their goats elsewhere.”

“I suppose that’s why it was so hard to find people to travel with?” I asked. “Because it’s summer?”

“Yeah, I expect so,” said Eldris. “There’s still a few caravans that run between the coast and the capital in late summer, but there are a lot more in the spring and early summer.”

“It’s also why I had to pay these three so much to come out and escort me to Safaad,” Gladya said impishly.

Aristede lifted a hand to his chest as if she’d struck him with an arrow through the heart. “Ah, you wound us with your words, Lady Gladya. With such fair company, this has surely been the most enjoyable coin we’ve ever earned.”

I had already mentally labeled Aristede as a dangerous, silver-tongued temptation, and one to which I would have happily have succumbed in other circumstances. But I was still bruised, sunburned, exhausted, and achy. Plus, I’d be camping in the open with other people tonight. Far better to enjoy that silver tongue in its linguistic capacity, and leave the rest alone. Not, I reflected, that he’d actually offered—or even implied—anything more. Though I judged it a remote chance, there was always the possibility that he was all talk and nothing else.

Besides, the look-but-don’t-touch plan had the additional bonus of allowing me to covertly enjoy Eldris’ unusual good looks as well. Hell, even Rayth was startlingly easy on the eyes as long as he kept his mouth shut. And, unlike Aristede, neither of those two struck me as the type to tumble strangers into bed on any kind of a regular basis. Certainly not Rayth, whose entire demeanor practically screamed keep away, don’t touch.

Not that I had any interest in touching the irritating prick. Obviously.

Once the horses had refreshed themselves, the three men efficiently made camp. Gladya seemed content to leave them to it, and since she was paying, that seemed fair enough to me. I offered, but Eldris scowled and waved me off. Since I already had enough battles waiting to be fought, I shrugged easy agreement and flopped down next to the other woman.

“So. Tell me more about this man of yours,” I said, eager to learn more about my rescuers. “Have you known him long?”

Gladya laughed, a clear and joyful sound. “Yes and no. We’ve only met three times, but we’ve been betrothed since he was ten and I was seven.”

I blinked. “Hang on. You’re marrying someone you’ve only met three times?”

Gladya looked at me curiously. “Well… yes. It’s an exceptionally good match. I did mention that he’s related to the royal house, didn’t I? Of course, the part I didn’t mention is that my family are merchants. Arranging the pairing was something of a coup for my mother. Darian’s family gets a generous dowry, mine gets a guaranteed buyer for our spice trade, and I get a husband I’m honestly rather fond of. I’m even his first wife. Everybody wins.”

I realized I was staring at her, and cleared my throat before blurting, “But you don’t even know him! What if he’s horrible?”

Even as the words came out, it occurred to me that they might not have been terribly diplomatic. Gladya tilted her head like a bird, but fortunately didn’t appear offended.

“He’s not horrible,” she said. “Why would you think so? My parents would hardly have matched me with a brute. My older brother served in the cavalry with him for two years, and they became quite close friends. I found him quite charming company on the occasions when our parents brought us together. That’s certainly basis enough for a good marriage.”

I mulled over her words this time before speaking. “I think,” I said slowly, “this might be another of those cultural things.”

Her look of confusion cleared, and her mouth made an “Oh,” shape.

The camp had taken shape around us as we spoke, and now Aristede sat down on the other side of the small fire Rayth had started with scrub wood.

“Hmm… I take it barbarian marriage customs are different?” he asked, softening what might have been an insult with a wickedly teasing smile.

“A bit, yeah,” I replied dryly. “We don’t have marriages, for one thing. We have handfastings. A priest binds the applicants’ hands for a day and a night, and afterwards your lives are bound together unless you agree to go back to a priest and have the bonding severed. And while I won’t deny that matchmaking is rampant among families within a village, handfastings generally end up being love matches.”

Now I was on the receiving end of a shocked stare from Gladya. “Really? I… can’t even picture how that would work. I mean, what if you fell in love with someone totally unsuitable?”

Aristede made a sound of amusement so faint I wasn’t sure I’d actually heard it. I stifled a laugh of my own, though probably for different reasons. My three guardians back home were the very definition of an unsuitable match.

“If it comes down to it, you fight tooth and nail for love, unsuitable or not,” I said. True, that might not have been the Eburosi way, as such—but it was what my brother Favian and I had grown up with. It was our way. “And if the gods are kind, you live happily ever after.”

Eldris had joined us, handing a knife hilt-first to Aristede and tossing him some vegetables for chopping.

“Different customs, I guess,” I offered. “For what it’s worth, I can’t really wrap my head around your way, either.”

Eldris lifted an eyebrow. “If it makes you feel better, you might as well both be speaking a foreign language as far as I’m concerned. The Kulawi don’t have marriage or handfasting or any of that shite. Two people wanna be together, they’re together. They wanna be with someone else, they go be with someone else. The elders only step in if someone’s sneaking around—not being honest and talking things out first. But as long as they are, who cares?”

“What about children, though?” I couldn’t help asking, intrigued.

He stared back. “Eh? What about them? The village looks after its own, regardless of who’s sleeping with who or who fathered who. Everyone’s responsible for the children. They’re the future.”

“An eminently sensible approach, I’ve always thought,” Aristede said, without looking up from his meal preparations.

I sat and thought about it, a slow smile crossing my lips at the picture Eldris had painted. “You know, this kind of thing is why I wanted to travel in the first place,” I said. A laugh escaped me. “Well, this and the dragons.”

Neither Aristede nor Eldris responded, and I wondered if I’d unintentionally put my foot in it somehow. An instant later, Gladya filled the sudden silence, though her smile was sad.

“I’m afraid there are no more dragons in Utrea,” she said. “You’re a few years too late for that.”

“I know,” I told her, sobering. “I learned that on the ocean voyage down from Eburos. But I’d still hoped to travel in the mountains… maybe see where they used to live.” Even to see bones or broken eggshells from such magnificent creatures…

“The mountains are dangerous.” It was the first contribution Rayth had made to the conversation since returning from caring for the horses.

“Oh?” I countered. “So is the trade road to Safaad, as it turns out. What’s your point?”

Rayth ignored the question and took a deep draught from the waterskin he was holding.

“‘Ere,” Eldris said, reaching out one massive arm. “Hand that over for a minute. Might as well have wine instead of water in the stew.”

So, not a waterskin, apparently. Eldris took the wine and poured some over the diced vegetables and strips of dried meat Aristede had added to the metal pot at his side. A few minutes later, the pot was bubbling merrily in the fast-burning fire.

“Tell me more about what happened to the dragons,” I said, hugging my knees. “The man I talked to on the ship from Rhyth said that people killed them all, but he wouldn’t go into detail.”

Gladya mirrored me, her expression turning into a frown.

“It was King Khalafu’s father,” she said. “The Alyrion Empire was threatening Utrea’s borders, but the Emperor feared the damage the dragonriders might do in the event of an all-out war. They say the old king was a little unstable—”

Rayth, who had been reunited with his wineskin as though it were a long-lost lover, made a derisive noise like a snort.

“—and he made a deal with the Alyrions,” Gladya continued. “The Emperor offered him a peace treaty as long as he agreed to have all of the dragons in Utrea destroyed.”

“You’re joking,” I said into the heavy silence that followed her words. “That’s horrible!”

“Horrible and stupid,” Gladya agreed, more passion in her voice than I had yet heard from her. After a moment, though, she looked down, her expression growing sheepish. “But don’t tell anyone in Safaad I said that.”

“You’re right, though,” I told her. “That was an awful decision! Destroy the one thing that was holding the Empire at bay? It’s foolhardy.”

Gladya shrugged, still looking down at her feet. “I suppose the king thought the peace treaty was more desirable than continuing tensions between the two countries. The Emperor gave him some trade concessions and other allowances, as well. So he sent the army out to kill all the adult dragons, and offered an outrageous bounty for anyone who brought him eggs.”

“He decimated his bloody army while doin’ it, too,” Eldris muttered. “It’s not like adult dragons are easy to kill.”

“That wasn’t the worst of it, though.” Gladya’s voice had gone so quiet that I had to strain to hear her words. “When the dragonriders protested, he had them imprisoned. Some of them were even executed… and the rest died soon afterward.”

My heart gave an unhappy lurch. “The riders all died? Why? How?”

Gladya looked up at me, her brown eyes luminous in the firelight. “Their soul-bonds were broken when their dragons were killed.”

I stared at her, trying to understand. “I don’t know what that means.”

She shook her head. “I’m not sure anyone who wasn’t a dragonrider could really understand. But apparently, before a dragon accepted a rider, they had to form some kind of a connection. Mental… spiritual… I’m not really sure how it worked. But a wild dragon—an unbonded dragon—is nothing more than a dangerous beast. When dragons bonded with people, though, together they became something more. Something wonderful.”

I swallowed, tears pricking at my eyes. “And when a bonded dragon died…” I began.

“It’s rider died as well,” she finished.

“Dear gods,” I breathed, sickened at the callousness of what Utrea’s king had done.

The others were silent. Rayth took another deep draught of the wine, and I idly wondered if it was unusual for him to spend his evenings pickling himself in spirits.

“Anyway,” Gladya went on, “no one has seen an adult dragon in years, and the number of eggs turned in by the bounty hunters gradually dwindled to nothing. As far as anyone knows, they’re all gone now.”

“That may be one of the saddest things I’ve ever heard,” I decided, imagining some poor, faceless soldier who’d served his king faithfully as a dragonrider, locked in a cell, feeling the animal he’d bonded to die… knowing he would soon follow.

“Stew’s ready,” Eldris mumbled, using a thick cloth wrapped around his hand to nudge the pot away from the fire. Maybe I was imagining it, but it seemed to me that his shoulders were taut with something. Anger, perhaps.

We ate, although I did so sparingly. Conversation was sporadic, none of us seeming much in the mood for stories or banter. Maybe I should have felt bad for dragging the mood down, but I’d wanted to know. Tales like this one were important. It was important that people remembered the awful things those in power did sometimes.

My childhood guardians had repelled an invasion by the very same empire that had threatened Utrea. My brother Favian and his two lovers had helped topple a corrupt king in the city-state of Rhyth. Meanwhile, I had merely stood to one side and watched these things happening around me—or heard about them, after the fact. But if nothing else, I could tell this story so everyone would remember what had happened to the dragons in Utrea—and to the humans who’d loved them.

“You shouldn’t go to the palace, Frella,” Rayth said in a low voice, seemingly out of the blue.

He was still seated apart from the rest of us, and I’d noticed earlier that he’d refused the stew. The wineskin lying next to him was also considerably emptier than it had been the last time I’d paid attention. His words were not slurred, but they had that overly careful quality common to habitual drunkards. I narrowed my eyes, feeling my temper stir.

“While I appreciate your assistance in picking me up off the side of the road and helping me get to Safaad,” I told him, “I don’t really recall asking your opinion about what I should or shouldn’t do once I arrive there.”

He shrugged, not looking at me, something about the dismissive movement making me angrier. “Then you’ll get my opinion for free,” he replied. “If you’re smart, you’ll turn around and head straight back north to your barbarian island. Go home to your powerful guardians, and don’t risk yourself in pursuit of whatever it is you’ve traveled across the sea to find.”

I stood up slowly, facing him, snapping my jaw shut when I realized that it was hanging open in outrage. “How dare you?” I asked, genuinely taken aback at his casual dismissal of the ambition for travel I’d harbored for as long as I could remember.

“Utrea can be a dangerous place,” he muttered, still staring into the crackling flames rather than looking at me.

“I can take care of myself!” I snapped.

At that, he finally met my eyes and lifted one arched brow. “Can you indeed?” he asked in that dry-as-dust drawl I was quickly coming to hate.

I felt my sun-reddened cheeks heat yet again as I contemplated my current position, wearing borrowed clothes and eating other peoples’ food as I prepared to spend another day begging a ride on someone else’s horse. Possibly, the reasonable thing to do at that point would have been to sit my ass down and shut my mouth.

So, of course, what I actually did was to stomp over to where Rayth was lounging against his saddle and jab a finger at his face. “Why don’t you come up here and I’ll show you just how well I can take care of myself… assuming you can part with your wineskin long enough for a sparring match.”

Why… why did I do things like this? My preferred weapons were crossbow, quarterstaff, and throwing knives. Weapons designed to keep larger and stronger opponents from getting close enough to make use of their advantages over me. And right now, I had precisely none of those things available. When I discovered that I wouldn’t be able to find the right kind of crossbow bolts in Utrea, I’d bartered my bow as part of the payment for Laduna. A staff was impractical to stow for long-distance travel on horseback, and my throwing knives were now the property of the bastards who’d waylaid me earlier today.

At least Rayth was drunk off his ass. That would probably be enough of a disadvantage for me to be able to take him.

Across the fire from us, Eldris made an interested noise. “A sparring match? This I gotta see.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rayth said dismissively, still in that precisely enunciated voice.

A low whistle caught my attention, and when I turned, Aristede tossed me a dagger nestled in a leather sheath, hilt-first. “You’ll be wanting this,” he said. “Try not to skewer him for real. That could be awkward.”

“Do you good to get a little sparring in, Rayth,” Eldris opined, leaning back and lacing his fingers together behind his head, the hard muscles in his chest flexing as he did.

When I turned back, Rayth had risen silently, and we were suddenly standing much too close. I took a step back, and then mentally cursed myself for having yielded ground. He was… very tall. How had I not noticed that before?

“Are you both quite sure about this?” Gladya asked, sounding anything but.

“Oh, yeah. Totally,” I lied, putting more space between us since I’d already taken that first telling step. He was drunk, I reminded myself. Completely shit-faced. It would be fine.

I shook out my bruised and aching limbs as best I could, checking the area around us to make sure we wouldn’t accidentally damage something important. “So, daggers then?” I asked, trying to get a feel for Rayth’s style as he moved toward me.

“Dagger. Singular,” he said. His bloodshot eyes flicked to the knife in my hand. “That one.”

All righty, then. He was apparently going to spar unarmed out of some ridiculous notion of chivalry. Great. This was totally doable.

“It’s your funeral,” I told him. A snort, quickly stifled, came from one of the others behind me.

I was trying to decide whether to play defense or offense when Rayth lunged, taking the decision from me. I sidestepped, only to find that it had been a feint and he was still directly in my path. I brought the blade up, flat side out since we were sparring, and he caught my wrist. With a violent twist, I wrenched free and whirled away, coming to a stop a couple strides away from him.

Damn it… he was moving far too fast and with far too much precision for someone who had single-handedly drained half of a wineskin over the course of an hour.

In my defense, if the knife Aristede gave me had been weighted for throwing—which it wasn’t—I could have had it lodged in Rayth’s throat in an instant as we stood across from each other. But skewering was definitely off the table tonight, even if Rayth was an annoying prick. I’d have to do this the hard way, unless I wanted to back out like a coward.

I didn’t want to back out. I wanted to put Rayth’s drunk ass on the ground to prove a point about… something.

I feinted left and used the moment as Rayth reacted to tangle my leg with both of his. Momentum allowed me to drive an elbow into his back as our bodies twisted around each other, and he went down. In fact, he went down far more easily than I had expected. The reason for this became apparent when his knees tightened around the leg I’d tangled between his and jerked me sideways, pulling me down after him.

A good-natured catcall came from the small audience. I thought it was probably Eldris, but couldn’t really spare time to focus on it. The good news was, I’d landed on top of Rayth, and my knife arm was still free. Normally, I would have gone for a knee to the groin, but the way he was keeping our legs were tangled together made me think he was expecting that.

I twisted my upper body, attempting to get the point of the knife aimed at his ribs, which would effectively end the fight. A lean, corded arm wound around mine, his superior strength ensuring I couldn’t get the blade turned toward his body. Hoping that he would discount my left hand, I threw my weight against our tangled arms despite the way it twisted my elbow.

My left fist flew out, trying for the same neck jab I’d attempted against Eldris on the road earlier. I’d intended to pull the punch, obviously, but Rayth jerked his chin down to protect his throat and my knuckles hit his jaw instead, with more force than I had intended.

He grunted, but didn’t loosen his hold on me. An instant later, the world shifted around me and I was somehow pinned on my back, breathing hard, the hilt of the dagger no longer in my hand and both of my wrists above my head in an unbreakable grip. Hard brown eyes, glittering in the firelight, stared down at me from a scruffy, high-cheekboned face.

“And that,” he said, his breath smelling of the wine he’d consumed, “was against an unarmed drunkard.”

End of free sample

Have I hooked you? The Dragon Mistress: Book 1 is available now!