Page 13 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

She is a gleaming nightmare of gold armor, wild ash blond hair, and hazel eyes that are fierce enough to slaughter armies with a single look. Her eyebrow is bisected with a scar.

Imperial Legate War Scipio Varus.

War, as she’s simply known to every remaining fae because she’s as much a symbol of the Draca Kingdom’s conquest as their Golden Dragon standards: Aurelius never fights without bringing both into a battle.

She is also the fiercest warrior in their army.

I struggle to raise my daggers and crouch into a fighting stance. I blink the rain out of my eyes.

“Tantrum over?” War draws her short, double-edged sword. “Fucking impressive with all that lightning and shit, but we both know that exhausted the last of your magic.”

The breath is punched from me. So, it was a battle tactic for the shifters to hold back, until they’d forced me into a place of desperation where I’d use my elemental magic. They knew that it would drain me.

I’m an idiot, and Aurelius is a cold blooded arsehole.

“Who looks exhausted?” I raise my shaky arms, circling War.

“You’re just embarrassing yourself right now.”

“I don’t embarrass easily.”

I dive at War with a speed that almost no one can match to take her by surprise. I fly up, wielding both daggers at the same time, while aiming for her unprotected throat.

Taken by surprise, she only just knocks me back in time with her sword. Furious, she punches out, catching me in the chest with her fist.

I feel a rib break even through my chain mail. I cough, spitting up blood.

“Little fae,” War smirks, “why don’t you just surrender? Your featherglass are dead. You’re defeated. Kneel, and I won’t kill you.”

“I’m flattered but I’m not into fellow Alphas, beautiful.”

War growls. “I’m going to wreck you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

Wound up, as I’d hoped, War launches herself at me, but her blows aren’t coordinated like they should be.

If they were, I’d be dead.

I’m still weak and barely able to parry her blows. Like this, however, I’m faster than her, dancing between her wide swings and thrusting my dagger under her guard.

Can I truly win?

For Ciara. The featherglass. The Shadow Fae.

My legs are unsteady, but I’m high on the thrill of the fight now.

When War lands a blow that slices open my arm, I don’t even feel it. Blood is trickling down my temple into my eyes from a punch that she’s struck to my temple; I merely blink it away.

Savage and driven by desperation, I’m caught in a whirlwind of emotions.

Unexpectedly, War lowers her sword. Her expression is unreadable, as she takes a step back.

What’s going on?

My knees almost buckle, but I force myself to raise my daggers. “Aye, you’d better run.”

But then, I look around, finally coming down from the intense focus of the fight.

My heart sinks.

I am surrounded by dozens of soldiers who are dressed in the gleaming golden armor of King Aurelius. In unison, they point their drawn swords at me.

I snarl, twirling in a circle.

War sheathes her own sword and crosses her arms. “You have more balls than I was expecting. That was a good fight for a feathered bitch. Well, at least it was a fun warm up spar. But now…”

She holds out her hand, and the closest soldier passes her a pair of manacles .

Ones made out of iron.

I recoil, shuddering.

On the sacred ash, she can’t mean to put those on me…?

Iron binds a fae down to their very soul, supressing their magic and tearing away their access even to flight.

It’s like stealing our senses.

It’s a cruelty like chaining a vampire with silver. Some things are worse than death, and being caged by iron is one of them.

I can’t stop myself from taking a step back, but wince when a sword tip presses into my back.

“Hands out,” War commands, gruffly.

I swallow my dread. “I’m kinky as the next fae, but why don’t we keep the chains for the next date?”

War backhands me, knocking me to my knees.

I taste the coppery tang of blood from my split lip. Rain hammers harder against my head.

My hands clutch the sodden leaves, which mix now with the ash of my loved ones. I duck my head. My curls fall over my face.

My own tears can finally be hidden in the streaming rain, as they fall down my cheeks.

“I won’t be chained in iron,” I hiss. “Kill me.”

War gives me a long, level look. “I wish that I fucking could.” Then she leans closer and whispers, “What if I told you that some of your soldiers have survived and have been captured too? If you play nice, little fae, then perhaps you can make a deal, before you’re executed?

Isn’t that what you feathered fucks are meant to be good at? ”

My head snaps up.

I study her stony expression, trying to read her. She doesn’t appear the type to trade in trickery, unlike me.

But who the hell knows? My entire world has been unmade today.

Swallowing, I hold out my hands, winking. “I’m all yours, Alpha.”

War grabs my hands deliberately hard and snaps the manacles around them.

I can’t hold back the wince.

The iron burns my skin. Worse, so much bloody worse , is the way that instantly, a veil slams down, blocking me from both my magic and flying ability.

My shadows scream in protest, wrapping themselves around my wings, as if they can somehow protect them.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Where are my shadows?

Am I weeping? Or is that the shadows bleeding from me?

My wings settle back on my shoulders like they know that I can’t fly now.

It’s devastating.

I keel over, dropping my forehead onto the forest floor with a keen. Around me, the dragon shifters laugh and jeer.

Their mocking makes me flush.

“Silence!” War orders, and the soldiers fall quiet. “And you, up.” She grabs me around the upper arm, hauling me back onto my knees. “You’re not mine, fae. I’m a one Omega Alpha, and he’d bite your tongue off if he heard you flirting.”

“Promises, promises.”

War backhands me again.

“Always the face,” I slur, sucking on my broken lip. “I’m too pretty to bruise. At least go for the stomach.”

War arches her brow and then kicks me in the stomach.

I should have learned by now.

My mouth can get me in or out of trouble, and right now, bound in iron, I’ve lost everything else.

I am about to be led to my execution. I have only the slight hope of a deal for soldiers who may already be shades.

“Up.” War roughly hauls me to my feet.

I’m lightheaded, from shock, the iron, or my injuries.

War keeps a firm hand on me, dragging me stumbling through the destruction of Rune Forest.

I should be looking where we are going but I can hardly raise my head from my feet, or I will fall and trip. I have a feeling that War would let me be dragged along on my face if that happened.

The ranks of soldiers march on either side of me. If I’m being taken to my death, at least I get a parade.

Finally, I hear voices up ahead.

With difficulty, I blink through the rain and make out another glade, which is deeper in the forest. A large oak spreads its branches over blazing torches and a stone altar, which is shaped like a silver dragon with spread wings .

Dread coils in my guts.

The dragon looks like Tarquin.

The Draca Kingdom have laid claim to the oak glade, where I first learned my rune magic from the elders almost too long ago for me to remember now.

It’s the sacred heart of the forest.

My soul is shattered.

Yet if I’m to be executed as a fallen fae king, is there a better place to fail my people than this?

I sink into the pain of the memory and the burn of the iron around my wrists.

I deserve this. I haven’t kept my oath to avenge my family and the Shadow Fae.

Fear lies heavy and sick in my stomach.

There are only two people waiting underneath the oak, although they look like they were carved out of the same stone as the altar.

A hard faced Alpha in his fifties, who is dressed in gleaming armor and leathers, with a thin mouth and jutting jaw, stands with his hands behind his back and military posture like he’s never slouched in his life.

He has a bald head and cruel, amber eyes.

Maximinus, uncle to the Shadow Dragon King.

Next to him, stands the King himself.

Aurelius’ gaze is icy as it meets mine. Yet I still spark with that same connection that always betrays me.

Does Aurelius feel it too? This thing that binds us as surely, painfully , as these manacles?

Aurelius’ golden hair tumbles over his face, which is as clean, as mine is stained with tears, mud, and ash. His uniform isn’t splattered with blood.

By the Shadow Gods, has he suffered for a single day in his golden life?

I shutter my own expression.

I may be tattered, manacled, and flightless but I won’t be broken.

“All this because I didn’t invite you to the party,” I force myself to taunt.

“This is the little bastard who you’ve tried for years to convince me is worthy of a throne, rather than the grave?” Maximinus sneers. “See? He’s never been more than a bandit, bringing chaos. You have a duty to establish peace, boy.”

“I understand, Uncle,” Aurelius replies.

“It’s very peaceful when everyone’s dead.” My eyes flash. “No joy, love, chaos or other messy emotions. How peaceful is it now in my sacred forest? How many dead fae did it take?”

Aurelius flinches.

“Beat him,” Maximinus says, coolly.

War punches me in the back, but I’ve been struck by her in battle, and I know that she’s holding back. She doesn’t even break another rib.

I glance at the altar. “Erecting that here is a sacrilege.”

“Only if we’re Shadow Fae.” Maximinus sniffs. “You’re the one worshiping nature and the Shadow Devils, rather than the Shadow Gods as you should be.”

“We worship both.”

“You’re a savage. ”

I bare my teeth. “Go to hell and help your ma make bitch stew.”

“What…? What does the Unseelie brat mean?” Maximinus splutters. “Is he insulting me?”

“I believe so.” Aurelius studies me, unsettlingly.

Inside, I’m howling with primal rage and despair.

Outside, I boldly meet the King’s cold gaze.

Aurelius swaggers closer to me.