Page 12 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

CHAPTER SIX

Rune Forest

D aire, Alpha Shadow Fae King

“To hell with holding your position, fucking dive!” I yell over the din of the clash of weapons, roar of flames, and screams.

Above me, the Shadow Fae soldiers try to respond to my order, weaving between the ruby dragons and their riders, but they’re cut down by the wall of fire.

“Nay…” I can’t look away, as one after the other, the people who have followed me for a decade, entrusting me with their lives, my friends , are burned to ash.

The air is thick with the stink of seared feathers and flesh.

I crouch on the high branch of an oak tree, shaking with shock and adrenaline, as my world burns around me.

Ravens caw and flutter their wings in fright. They circle me, protectively.

Feathers, blood, and ash rain from the night sky. The moon is veiled by smoke.

This must be what Shadow Hell looks like. The devils have ambushed the only family that I have, my brothers and sisters in the army.

My elite bodyguard, the featherglass.

I’m not with my main army, since the featherglass and I are visiting the sacred Rune Forest to celebrate the Unseelie Rite of Spring.

This is an ambush.

My bloody fault.

I gag, covering my face.

It should have been a Spring Rite with starlight, mead, and sweet sighs of pleasure. Now instead of blossoms falling softly on my head, I have the ashes of my people raining softly down on me, making my lavender eyes sting.

I am not crying.

The ashes are tears enough, weeping over this ancient Rune forest, where together my featherglass and I have celebrated feasts, dance, sung, and fucked with wild joy.

May the Shadow Devils break the wings of these invaders.

My kingdom is falling .

I wipe at my cheeks desperately, but they’re smeared with mud and ash. My silver curls are now black.

I’m marked.

Shadows flow around me like the waves of a stormy sea. The ravens ride them, cawing more loudly.

A tempest is blowing through me. Above, storm clouds gather. My elemental magic is calling the rain in my rage and distress.

My tall bronze and emerald crown of intricate feathers has never felt this heavy.

My iridescent black raven wings tremble. They drip blood.

It’s not mine.

I bare my sharp, gleaming canines. Then I drag out my two favorite daggers. They’re made out of bronze and have taken the lives of dragons and vampires alike, even a Vampire Queen.

I’m more powerful than anyone on this battlefield, the legendary King Daire: Sole royal survivor of an entire Winter Court that was wiped out by the brutal Tarquin.

I am the Raven King who has waited a lifetime to avenge my slaughtered people.

Now, Tarquin’s brother has shocked me by becoming as much of a tyrant as his brother was, when I dreamed that he would be different.

I should have known. After all, Aurelius is the Golden Dragon risen again.

How can this be how the fae fall?

I twist my warped bronze and emerald ring, which is all that I have left of my Da. What will he think, if his shade is watching, when his son dies under the same dragon fire that killed him?

So much for making him proud. But then, I’m not sure that I’m the type who makes anyone proud. I’d settle for keeping my kingdom safe. I just don’t want the people I love to die.

How many years have I fought and endured for that?

I snarl, as terror chokes me. My heart is thundering. I scramble to the end of the branch.

Heat hits my cheeks from the wildfire, which is raging through the forest.

Aurelius has even declared war on nature. He’s defeated my ash grove.

“Daire,” a panicked voice yells above the roar of the flames.

It’s Ciara, my Beta best friend and closest bodyguard.

Raising ourselves as kids alone amidst the ranks of an army of child soldiers, we are as close as twins. She’s the other half of my scoundrel soul.

She’s still alive.

My shoulders slump in relief. I grin, sharply.

I peer through the smoke at the treeline across from me. Have some of the featherglass survived?

If you catch the king, you win the war.

I can’t allow myself to be captured. I need to get out of here.

Ciara is hunkered in an ash tree like I am. Her normally immaculate chainmail and emerald padded jacket uniform, which matches my own, is torn and bloody. She has lost her silver helmet in the skirmish, and her brunette hair is tangled over her bruised face.

Her claws, which are black and as long as daggers, are sunk firmly into the branch.

“Who else is on that side?” I ask.

Ciara shakes her head. “Just me.”

My heart falls.

How can they all be gone?

Every. Last. One.

“I’m sorry.” I wrap my wings around myself, burrowing down into my feathers that smell of frost under a winter’s sun and allow myself, for a brief moment, to remember the long ago magic and safety of the Winter Court, which now only exists in the scent.

“Don’t be a bloody idiot.” Ciara scans the ravaged clearing below, which has been blackened by fire and is now eerily quiet and devoid of life.

“I’ll get you out of here. We’ve been in worse scrapes than this before.

You’re always falling wing over arse into trouble, and aye, this here fae gets you out of it. When have I let you down?”

“Never.”

“The arseholes have lost if they don’t catch you.

They’ve…” Ciara’s voice cracks. Everyone who has died today were like her family, as well as mine.

We’ll have time to grieve later. I hope.

“You never let anyone win, Daire. Whether it’s at dice, cards, or when you’re charming someone with those pretty eyes of yours in order to knot them.

You’re not going to let this bloody Golden Dragon win now, aye? ”

“Aye.” I clench my jaw, preparing to fly across the clearing to join Ciara.

Suddenly, a giant shadow flies across the moon.

I glance upward. My feathers vibrate with tension.

A giant Golden Dragon flies across the moon without a rider.

The dragon is riderless because King Aurelius always is.

Aurelius’ wings glitter like he’s the sun eclipsing the moon. I’m mesmerized.

A silver dragon flies at his shoulder.

I snarl.

It’s Maximinus.

“Daire.” Someone is calling my name, but the sound is faded and in the background. I can’t focus. “Daire, now . Fly here. Please…”

Dazed, I force myself to shake my head.

Ashamed, I’ve become increasingly drawn to Aurelius in a way that I don’t understand when I bloody hate that scaled tyrant with every drop of my fae blood.

Yet somewhere singing in that blood is a connection that confuses me. My destroyer is bound to me by fate. My magic senses it. Perhaps, tonight will prove it if he kills me.

Yet the thought of sinking my dagger into the Golden Dragon’s heart makes me want to hurl, despite the fact that he’s my greatest enemy.

What’s wrong with me?

I shake my head desperately to clear it .

Suddenly, fire shoots from Maximinus, the worst of the serpents in the Shadow Court.

“Ciara,” I howl, “bloody get out of here. Leave me.”

But it’s too late.

The fire hits the treeline that’s opposite mine, where Ciara is perched.

Our gazes meet, and I feel a lifetime of love and friendship in the look. Then she’s blasted by the flames, before her ash and wisps of shadow are scattered onto the nighttime breeze.

There isn’t even time for me to speak.

Numb, I collapse back onto the branch.

I’m hollow.

I watch, as Ciara’s ashes join the leaves and crushed blossoms on the floor of the grove that earlier she danced around in my arms.

She’ll never dance again. Never laugh. Never fight at my side.

Am I worth this many lives? Is a king worth this much destruction? A kingdom?

My eyes are red rimmed but dry. “May you fly well with the Shadow Gods.”

The trees opposite me groan and fall. Their canopies flame on fire like an army with their heads set alight.

I glare upward at the circling formations of dragons, who are swooping over the glade in triumph, ruby, silver, and gold.

All of a sudden, my magic rises up in me in outrage and horror. It trembles through the trees, whipping out not to heal but this time, to hurt . To avenge the ashes of every fae who is now reunited with their ancestors in their sacred grove.

Does that bloody Shadow Dragon King even know the sacrilege he is committing?

Does he care?

I howl, flourishing my wings. I leap from the branch and soar to land in the center of the scorched glade.

My shadows whip out from me, volatile and violent. The ravens burst furiously after me in a black cloud.

“Here I am,” I roar. “Fight me, Aurelius. Bloody fight me.”

I spin the daggers in my hands, baring my sharp teeth.

I stare up at the sky but I can no longer see where the Golden Dragon is anymore.

“Coward,” I howl.

Finally, the true storm in the sky breaks. Only the most ancient — or most powerful — fae can channel the elements.

Yet I am the King of the Unseelie. I may not often act like it but tonight, I am.

If I am to die in this scorched glade, then I will die wearing my heritage as firmly as the feathered crown upon my head and my da’s ring upon my finger.

Thunder rumbles louder than the dragons’ roars, before jagged lightning slashes across the sky.

I grin with savage joy, as magic sparks across my skin.

The dragons panic, breaking ranks in disarray. I ball my hands, struggling not to control the storm but guide its outrage, as it strikes the shifters and makes them roar in pain.

The dragons are driven from the skies above the glade. My ravens caw, patrolling.

I pant with exertion. Then I collapse, leaning over to rest on my knees, taking desperate lungful’s of air.

Magic has a cost. What doesn’t?

Rain pelts down from the storm clouds, plastering my curls to my head. My muscles protest in exhaustion and grief, but I push myself to standing again. The energy is drained from me. Even my ravens fly up to settle on the remaining, smoldering tree branches.

I’m alone now.

I take a shuddering breath.

All of a sudden, through the heavy rain and smoke, a tall dragon prowls toward me.