A King for the Sorceress, page 1
A King for the Sorceress
The Dragon Kings of Fire and Ice, Volume 2
Amelia Shaw
Published by Tamsin Baker, 2022.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
A KING FOR THE SORCERESS
First edition. February 11, 2022.
Copyright © 2022 Amelia Shaw.
ISBN: 979-8201082765
Written by Amelia Shaw.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Epilogue
Rebuilding His Dragon Kingdom
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Chapter 1
ERIK
I knelt with my head bowed, every word the elder spoke placing the weight of the world on my shoulders.
“Bravadik Arman. Son of Sigmus, King of the Black Mountains. I anoint you and bestow upon you the kingdom and clan of your father. In your hands, I place responsibility, duty, and power. May this crown grow into a symbol of your strength. May you rise to be the leader your blood rite destines you to become.”
I suppressed the shudder that passed through me. I’d dreaded this moment since the day my mother told me the name of my true sire. He had been the last person in the kingdom I expected. The king.
“Arise, King Bravadik,” the elder said, startling me out of my reflections. I took a long deep breath before pushing to my feet and turning to face the room full of courtiers and honored guests, people who had traveled for the coronation ceremony of the new king. Me.
Cheers and applause rang through the room. The guests were on their feet, shouting for me. Praising me. They were all people I’d never seen before. People I didn’t know.
My mother was gone. She had died the past winter, having been ill for many years.
Pain squeezed my chest at the thought of her, as though someone had reached inside my ribs and grasped hold of my heart. If I tried, I could picture her standing in the crowd, looking up at me, her eyes shining with devotion and love. She would have been so proud to see me take the throne.
Despite the fact I never wanted it.
I still didn’t. Not the throne, nor the castle. And especially not the kingdom.
Hordes of well-wishers surged forward to congratulate me and, despite my misgivings, I held my head high as I made my way down the stairs, clasping hands with the first man to step forward.
“King Bravadik, it is an honor,” the man said, smiling broadly. He had a kind, open face, and I couldn’t help but smile back.
I made my way through the crowd, greeting people here and there as they waved to me. Disappointment surged through me when I realized that my half-brother’s queen wasn’t here.
Queen Marienne.
Five years ago, I laid eyes on her for the first time.
The first, and the last.
The crowds before me parted, and a man emerged. With one look, I straightened my spine and lifted my chin to look him in the eye. All of my dragon shifter kinsmen were tall and broad, but there was no mistaking this man for a mere courtier.
“Your Highness,” I said, bowing my head, at least until the man’s laugh rolled through his chest, coming out deep and loud.
“You’re a king now. You bow to no-one.”
I raised my head. It would take time to get used to the fact that I was now a leader.
He reached out, offering me his hand. I recognized the strength in his grip for the test that it was, and squeezed back, hard.
“Thank you for coming to the coronation,” I said.
He grinned at me and pulled the woman next to him closer. Her breasts were so big and round they were practically toppling over the edge of her bodice.
“I’m Stavrok, King of Bravdok.” His grin widened. “And this is my wife, Queen Lucy.”
“Lucy?” I said, repeating the strange name.
She smiled, and her whole face lit up. “I’m not from around here.”
My gaze slid back to Stavrok and I raised an eyebrow in question.
“I stole her.” Stavrok grinned mischievously. “Out of the local village.”
“The local... human village?” I was shocked by how casual they sounded.
“Yes,” he said, puffing out his chest. “She’d never seen a dragon before me.”
Lucy rolled her eyes, her expression fond. “It’s very nice to meet you, Bravadik.”
I scowled at the sound of my formal name. “My friends call me Erik.”
Stavrok lifted his chin. A smirk tugged at his lips. “You have some of your father in you.”
I took a step closer. “You knew him?”
Stavrok nodded. “Very well. Come to our castle for dinner one evening and we will discuss it at length. I’ve got plenty of old stories, if you wish to hear them?”
“I would appreciate that,” I said, my voice rough with emotion. “Thank you.”
“Come tomorrow night,” Lucy said. “Bring Marienne with you. It has been too long since we’ve seen Mari. How is she?”
I made some low sound, deep in the back of my throat, and for some reason my dragon surged within my chest.
The mood shifted. Stavrok grabbed his wife and shoved her behind him, all the while rumbling out a growl that made my hackles rise and every muscle in my body clench to keep from shifting then and there.
What the hell?
My dragon was ferocious, sure. But my control was better than this.
“Get yourself together, or you’re gonna force me to shift,” Stavrok hissed through gritted teeth.
I caught a glimpse of his dragon in the way his nostrils flared, and the fire that burned in the depths of his gaze, and fought my own dragon’s need to rise.
I clenched my fists until the knuckles whitened, trying to regain control.
Stavrok summoned a nearby male servant, who snapped to attention.
“A large glass of whiskey for King Bravadik. Now.”
The servant dashed away. I forced myself to keep breathing in deep, even inhales and exhales.
Stavrok continued to hold Lucy back. The gorgeous little human fought against his arms, resolutely trying to peek around his barrel-like chest to get a look at me.
When the servant reappeared with the glass and a bottle, I ignored the glass and drank straight from the bottle, downing gulps. The whiskey burned my throat, all the way to my gut.
I swigged some more, and when that too reached my empty stomach, the need to shift finally began to subside.
My vision cleared and my shifter relaxed, yawning, and curling up to sleep inside me.
Stupid thing. We’re trying to make a good impression, and you almost started a fight with our neighboring kingdom.
My self-anger must have shown on my face, because the servant took a couple of steps back like I was going to take a swing at him any moment.
“Thank you,” I said belatedly.
The servant continued to stare at me with startled, wide eyes, not looking reassured in the slightest.
“Please, just...” I clutched the now half-empty bottle and waved him off. “You should leave.”
I looked over at Stavrok, who allowed his little wife back around his huge body so that she could stare up at me with barely disguised curiosity.
“Did I say something wrong?” Lucy asked, then bit her lip in the sweetest way. “I’m still not sure about all the customs... Forgive me if I offended you.”
I was too embarrassed to even look at her. “You did nothing wrong,” I said stiffly, staring over her shoulder. Then I met Stavrok’s gaze and inclined my head. “Thank you. That drink helped a lot.”
Stavrok reached out and squeezed my shoulder. “We need to have that dinner sooner rather than later. Come tomorrow night, with or without Mari. No arguments.”
“But...” Lucy began.
Stavrok gripped her hand and shook his head. “Marienne is the childless widow of the old king. She will not have a role in this kingdom unless the new king wishes it.” His eyes found mine, narrowing. “If I were in his shoes, I would build a house somewhere at the edge of town and put her in it.”
Stavrok’s gaze intensified. I nodded and hummed as though agreeing.
Part of me could see his point. Marienne was part of the old court, the old ways. Her presence might divide loyalties.
Yes, sending her away would be the logical thing to do.
But the idea didn’t sit right with me for a number of reasons, none of which, unfortunately, I could share in my present company.
“Where is Mari, by the way?” Lucy asked as she glanced around, scanning the crowd as if the woman might appear at any moment. “You haven’t shipped her off already, have you?”
Mari. I liked the sound of the shortened name. Stavrok and Lucy obviously held an affection for my half-brother’s widow, despite the fact that Stavrok had just urged me to ship her off.
I shook my head and lifted the bottle of whiskey, taking another sip to calm the way my frame was going rigid again.
“No.” I looked down into the bottle, swirling around the liquid inside to avoid her gaze. “I wouldn’t do such a thing.”
“In that case...” Lucy’s glare burned into the side of my head. I could feel it. “Where is she?”
I looked over toward Stavrok for support. “I would have assumed a human woman would be more malleable...”
Stavrok’s bark of laughter was so loud, most of the people in the throne room turned to stare at us.
Lucy whacked him, and he calmed down a little, though nothing could pull the grin from his lips.
“No. Lucy is all fire.” He looked down at her with pride. “Especially since giving birth to our triplets. She is the perfect mother dragon for my heirs.”
“Triplets?” Wow.
My regard for the little human went up. Beauty, brains, and breeding. Stavrok had hit the perfect trifecta.
“Babies, Stavrok. We’ve talked about this. They are not simply... heirs.” Lucy rolled her eyes.
“Our son will inherit the kingdom one day, my love.”
I glanced between them with amusement. So, there seemed to be some cultural adjustments necessary when it came to human-dragon relationships.
Lucy huffed and puffed, apparently not having an argument for that one. Then, she turned that icy stare back on me. “You didn’t answer my question. Where’s Marienne?”
I released a deep sigh.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “When I arrived, the staff said she was in mourning and would not be attending my coronation. So...” I turned away from them a little, pretending intense interest in a nearby marble column. “I’ve left her alone. But I have to assume she’s still in the castle somewhere. Hiding from me, it would seem.”
I neglected to mention that I was hiding from her, as well. Nothing would have stopped me from chasing her down if I’d truly wanted to know where she was.
“Maybe she’s in the dungeons,” Lucy said under her breath, casting a sidelong look at her husband.
Did she just say dungeons? “Why would my half-brother’s queen be in the dungeons?”
Stavrok shook his head. “That’s a long story, my friend. We’ll have to tell it to you some other time.”
He glanced over his shoulder, at the line of people waiting for me. I suppressed another sigh.
“We will see you tomorrow night, Erik,” Stavrok said. “Eight o’clock. Bring your appetite.”
I shook the king’s hand again. This time, his grip seemed friendlier.
“Thank you again for your help.” I lifted the bottle to indicate the alcohol, giving him a sheepish smile. My head was slightly buzzing, and my stomach burned with liquor. But my control was back intact. “I apologize if my behavior scared you, or your lovely wife.”
Stavrok chortled, a growly laugh that set my dragon on edge. “Erik, the only reason I didn’t take your damn head off was because you obviously don’t have much experience controlling your emotions. That has to change, and I’ll be happy to help.”
I gave the king a small smile, trying to remain calm. Rumor was that Stavrok had killed my half-brother in hand-to-hand combat. He was a tough warrior. Not one to cross, that was for sure.
“No hard feelings, then?” I asked.
As the king, I needed allies. And, despite his ferocity and loud, bombastic manner, I sensed that Stavrok had a good heart underneath.
Stavrok grinned. “As long as you stop staring at my wife’s breasts... we’re all good.”
“Oh... of course,” Had I been looking there?
My mind was still on Marienne—or Mari, as they had called her—and whether I should insist she come out of hiding.
Inadvertent staring at Stavrok’s wife was likely just the first of many royal fuck-ups.
How many more would I have before my time was done?
Chapter 2
MARIENNE
I watched my husband, King Magnik of the Black Mountains, die at the hand of another dragon king in mortal combat. It was by far the most traumatic day of my life.
It was also the most liberating.
From the moment my magic began to show itself, my destiny had been set in stone. I’d been all of sixteen at the time; I didn’t know how to control my powers, and I couldn’t hide them.
The power that stirred within me made me a worthy prize. I was to be a royal bride. My parents had fought to make the king wait until I was eighteen to claim me.
For ten long years, I’d been the queen of a clan ruled by a tyrant.
In the town below us, the distant chime of bells rang out. They were still celebrating, ringing in their new king.
The day of Magnik’s half-brother’s coronation had been a long time coming. Hope was in the air, and the entire kingdom felt it. The servants carried the rumors all the way to my tower. This king would be different. Not capricious and power-hungry like the last, and the one before that.
A shiver coursed through my body at the mere thought of Bravadik.
“Erik...” I whispered the more familiar name into the silence.
Only the wind answered me. The silken curtains fluttered, billowing outwards. I collapsed onto the nearby couch, reveling in the soft velvet cushions that surrounded me. This place was my oasis; it sheltered me from the pain of the world outside.
But I couldn’t stay in here forever. Sooner or later, these walls would come crashing down and reality would intrude.
I had to be ready. I had to think.
With a small sigh, I rose from the couch and paced around my room. It was a cozy space, full of books and plush decorations. Colorful rugs covered the floor, and a large lantern hung from the ceiling, casting the furniture with a warm glow.
Magnik himself had told me of Bravadik, many years ago. His father’s bastard son, and the only true challenger for the throne. He was low-born, the child of some village woman and known in his home town as Erik. He had been raised down in the valley, far away from court, and that was likely the only reason Magnik had not had him killed.
I’d seen Bravadik only once, on a royal tour, five years into my marriage. The moment stood out sharply in my memory. Even now, the thought of that day filled me with a cacophony of feelings. Happiness, love, and terror.
From the moment I lay eyes on Bravadik, I knew.
He was my fated mate.
It had been more than five years since that day. The day my heart broke in my chest when I knew we would never have the chance to be together.
The original joy I had felt when I saw Erik had been crushed mere seconds later. I could never know him. Nor love him.
I’d been forced to marry a man who had claimed me for my magical power. Magnik was a distant, cold husband. He neither desired nor loved me. I was a tool to him, just another weapon in his arsenal.
The fates had cursed our union. My barren womb and untouched heart were a true testament to the emptiness of our marriage.
I turned my head toward the banging on the door, and called to whoever was on the other side. “I gave instructions that I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
“Queen Marienne.”
My stomach dropped at the sound of the voice. I had never heard it before, and yet... I knew it.
Somewhere deep inside, the familiarity called to me. In my dreams, like an echo carried on the wind.
I raced to the door and bolted it with trembling hands. Then I pressed my forehead against the solid wood and took deep, steadying breaths.
“I know you’re in there.” The voice was low and smooth. Cautious, but not unfriendly. I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “What do you want?”
I forced the words out even as my defensive magic began to swirl around me. Purple infusions of light glimmered around the dim chamber, and I struggled to retain control.
“It’s King Bravadik.” Even muffled through the thick wood I could hear the discomfort when he announced himself. The title didn’t exactly roll off his tongue.
A reluctant smile tugged at my lips.
What had become of the young man I’d seen in town, all those years ago? What sort of man was he now? How strong? How beautiful? I ached to know, but I had no right. I was the former king’s barren widow, and as such, of little use to Bravadik, other than as a reminder of a past he might not want to remember.
“Sire.” I swallowed. “How can I be of service?”
“Well,” he said, “you could open the door, for a start.”
I closed my eyes. Goddess, if he only knew how much I wanted to.
