Page 3 of The Forbidden Dragon King (Shadow Kings #1)

CHAPTER TWO

Bard’s Bedroom, Moon Court, Fang Kingdom

F reya, Omega Shadow Wolf Shifter

Three years later…

On the night that I’m going to die, the moon rise looks more beautiful and terrible than ever before.

The Mate Hunt will start soon.

Possibly, it already has.

Tonight, every unbonded adult over twenty-one will transform into their wolf form under the full moon. Alphas will hunt and claim their Omegas. Betas who submit to an Alpha will join a pack.

By tradition, however, any non-shifter Omega like me will be torn apart.

Who said that it was unlucky to be the sole survivor of a vampire massacre as a baby that wiped out the original Moon Court?

Oh, right.

That would be everybody.

Looks like they were right.

Assholes.

I’ll only be saved if an Alpha claims me. But why would they? I’m an orphan servant.

A nobody.

By the rules of the ritual, dragon royalty, the overlords of our Fang Kingdom in the west, can intervene to save an Omega. But as much as I’ve spent my life obsessing over the legend of the Golden Dragon and the new King who it’s rumored may be his reincarnation, why would King Aurelius protect me?

I’d better save myself then, huh?

It’s what I’m best at.

“It has to be here.” I hurl the books off the carved oak shelf, scattering Prince Bard’s precious belongings, which are worth more than I am, onto the floor.

“If I was a forbidden magic book, where would I be? Not here, or here, or… If I was a prince who pretends to be a fierce warrior to hide my obsession with reading tomes on ancient outlawed fae magic, where would I hide my dirty secret? ”

I hiss between my teeth, pushing the fiery waves of my hair that are woven with pink roses behind my ears.

My hair has earned me the nickname Spark.

Well, amongst the other Omega servants.

The Betas, the followers in the Moon Court, mainly ignore me. And the Alphas, the warriors and leaders, mostly call me worthless Omega bitch .

That’s okay. I call them knotless sons of raven starvers .

In my head.

I’ve had my ass kicked enough times by the elite Alphas who enjoy bullying Omegas without families to protect them to know that insulting them out loud isn’t wise.

Although, it is fun.

When wild howls arise in the distance from the woods, I shiver.

The Mate Hunt has started.

The moon’s light should have pulled me into shifting, but once again, I’ve failed.

I square my shoulders.

One thing that I’ve learned is always have a backup plan. Possibly because my first reckless plans normally blow up in my face.

“Okay,” I whisper, steeling myself, “if I can’t be accepted here, then it’s time to see if the fae want an Omega who can scrub floors, peel potatoes, and steal shit. Some skills, huh? A rose scented bargain.”

I lick my lips nervously, as another howl rings out.

They’re getting closer.

If I don’t find the rune book, then I won’t escape .

I’ll die tonight.

Adrenaline spikes through me. I’m trembling with fear. Only the runes can protect me by hiding my scent. Bard doesn’t know how obsessively I watch him, along with the forbidden rune magic that he practices. I know that he has this spell. Only the elites have access to the truly illegal stuff.

It’s ironic that those who break the laws the most are those who set them.

I scan Bard’s luxurious bedroom, increasingly desperate.

Moonlight streams through the small, tinted glass window over Bard’s room. It illuminates the grand painting of him, which hangs on the wall above his four-poster bed, as if the royal family don’t dominate the court enough.

I can’t help the way that my heart leaps painfully in my chest, however, when I study the painting.

By the moon, I hate the yearning that draws me to the frustratingly handsome prince with his thick brunet hair and forest green eyes.

I wish that I could carve the feeling out of my chest.

How many Omegas already throng around the prince? He rejects them all but he could have his pick.

Bard has never even spoken to me. Yet he loves fae magic like I do. He breaks the rules more than anyone in the Moon Court, including me, even if he’s smarter about hiding it. And just sometimes, when I get mouthy, I see the way that his lips twitch, before he can stop himself .

Why does my inner Omega wish that Bard would trigger my first heat and mate me in the hunt?

Sometimes, all it takes is smelling his scent as he walks past me to make me purr. His lips twitch at that as well.

Does he feel something for me?

I can’t help the draw to his woodsy scent of pine and fir, as if he’s my Alpha. Yet the hierarchy divides us: Bard is at the top, a royal, and I’m at the bottom, an orphan non-shifter.

Is it wrong that sometimes I yearn to be bonded? To finally have a pack?

A proper home?

I saw Bard last week exploring the ancient, forbidden Winter Caves. The caves are a honeycomb of tunnels, which lead to the borders of the frozen, northern Unseelie Kingdom. He didn’t notice me following him downwind to make sure that he didn’t catch my scent.

I’m stealthy.

Lucky for Bard that I wasn’t an assassin.

If either of us had been caught, we’d have been cast out of the pack and exiled.

I watch Bard each week, while I’m on my knees scrubbing the corridor floors, as he swaggers by me with his head in a book. He barely seems aware of his gang of friends around him.

No one else cares as much about magic as Bard and I do in the entire Moon Court. But we can’t even talk to each other about it.

Still, Bard has never stopped his elite friends from bullying me, even if his gaze will linger on me a moment too long, when he does manage to raise his lazy gaze from his book.

Bard confuses me. And maybe princesses have time for that shit, but I don’t. I only have time for survival.

After tonight, Bard and I will never see each other again.

“Where is it?” Fear surges through me, as I rush around Bard’s room, searching for the rune book.

Bard wouldn’t have risked hiding it anywhere but here. His dad, King Ulf, would whip the skin off his son’s back, if he discovered it.

Once, I’d have given anything to have been allowed into Bard’s bedroom. How many nights have I lain in the servant’s dorm, secretly touching myself under the blankets to the thought that Bard had built me a nest for my first heat here?

That he was touching me?

Now, I throw aside the rich fur pelts that cover Bard’s crimson four-poster bed, heaping them on the floor.

Like a whirlwind, I overturn his straw mattress, checking underneath it. I’m panting as I turn to his desk in the corner, which is carved with crescent moons.

My eyes light up.

I study the neat papers on strategy (but I suspect contain poetry), before I sweep them off with a howl.

They scatter in a satisfying tempest around me.

Exhilarated at the destruction, which I’ve never been allowed to let out before, I grin.

If I’m going to be torn apart tonight, then I’ll at least leave my mark as well .

I’ve never been good at being the quiet, docile Omega.

Vibrating both with the thrill and terror, I turn to the prince’s weapons, which are ranked against the far wall: a heavy ax and a wooden shafted spear with an iron tip.

Iron to harm fae.

I wrinkle my nose.

Shadow Fae are only our enemies because the dragons are at war with the Unseelie Kingdom and have been as long as anyone can remember. For centuries, however, the fae have been our closest allies. They’re the most ancient of races, the origin of the shadows.

Legend says that they’re magic and cold death.

King Ulf, on the other hand, declares them nothing but rogues.

Either way, they sound like my type of people.

It’s only the dickless King Ulf who decided to cowardly bend the knee to the dragons in order to gain protection against the vampires in the south.

I dash for the ax, which Omegas aren’t normally allowed to handle. Weapons are only for Alphas and all that bullshit.

“By the moon, that’s heavy.” I straighten my back, huffing. “Okay, maybe I do need more muscles.”

Sweat drips down between my shoulder blades. Reluctantly, I let go.

My breathing becomes ragged.

What am I going to do?

No rune magic. No weapon. Nowhere to hide.

Then my gaze settles on the huge ash wardrobe, which stands beside the window. It’s ornate and carved with howling wolves.

I smile. “Come to me, naughty book.”

I prowl to the wardrobe, baring my teeth. I rip open the wardrobe door, ignoring Bard’s rich silk, embroidered clothes and fur-trimmed cloaks that are twice as thick and ornate as anything that Omegas wear.

Where would Bard hide his secret stash?

I drop to my knees, knocking at the wood to search out a secret compartment. I have them in the dorms.

How else can I hide my stolen fae artifacts and books?

I am a thief Omega, after all.

I should add that to my list of skills to impress the fae.

I’m talented. A prodigy.

I bet that the fae will appreciate a thief, rather than threatening to cut off a cunning Omega’s hands, right?

My smile widens, when I hear a hollowness that shouldn’t be there on the lefthand side of the wardrobe’s base.

I feel around, until I knock a wedge of wood that’s sticking out. You wouldn’t discover it, if you didn’t know that it was there or were a talented crook like me.

When I push the wood panel aside and pull out the forbidden text, my expression brightens.

Thank the moon.

See, a life of crime does pay.

I collapse back against the wardrobe, opening the book on the lap of my long, scarlet dress.

My cotton dress has a sash wrapped around the middle but it falls off my alabaster shoulders by design in order to always reveal my Omega Mark.

My Omega Mark is tattooed on my right shoulder: A glittering wolf’s head like crushed emeralds. Its color makes my eyes appear to sparkle a brighter green.

I’ve long both loved and hated my Omega Mark because I’m more than simply my dynamic.

I’m Spark.

Yet no one sees me.

Sometimes, I believe that Bard does. But is that only a dream?