Shades of Fire
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Daphne Anders
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1,1M
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23
Chapter 1
CERION
I woke up tangled in black silk sheets, my naked body sprawled across the massive bed. The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow on the room.
I turned to look at the two brunettes lying beside me, their bare skin glowing in the early sunlight. Is it my charm that draws them in, or the fear of my reputation? I wondered, a smirk playing on my lips.
It’s not like women could resist me anyway. They would throw themselves at me like I was their last hope, dreaming of becoming my queen.
But I was not interested in a queen or even a concubine. I preferred my hookups to be quick and emotionless, with no strings attached.
The council, though, was obsessed with finding me a queen. If choosing one would get them off my back, then fine, they would have their queen.
I would pick someone who wouldn’t care about my extracurricular activities. She would be in it for the Dani name, the power, and the wealth.
One of the brunettes shifted, her skin brushing against me. I felt nothing, not even a twitch.
That was how it always was—once I’d had a woman, the thrill was gone. Ruined, just like the kingdoms I’ve conquered. The Dragon of Ruin, they called me—a suitable title.
She sat up, her light-brown hair falling over her tan skin. She watched me wide-eyed, afraid to speak.
The other woman was already dressing, sneaking glances at me as she prepared to leave. The room was thick with silence.
I stared at the woman next to me, my gaze intense. She reached for me, but I wagged my finger.
“No,” I said, my voice sending a chill through the room. She quickly withdrew her hand and scrambled out of bed.
“Good day, ladies,” I called out as they hurried from the room, eager to put as much distance between us as possible.
I settled back against the sheets, lacing my fingers behind my head. Another wonderful day as the King of Ruin, I thought, chuckling at the title.
I’d earned that name when I’d destroyed my first village. But they hadn’t been innocent—they’d been plotting against my family.
I’d given them a chance to make things right, but they’d refused. So they had to burn, and burn they had.
My dragon was strong, and it was my first act as king to reduce those villagers and their homes to ashes. My father would have been proud, the bastard.
But it was just business. And for the Danis, business meant being feared.
***
“Time to get up, Cerion,” I muttered to myself, letting the sheets fall away as I stood. I examined myself in the mirror, frowning slightly.
I’m getting soft, I thought, noticing how my battle scars were fading. My body didn’t look as intimidating as it used to.
I pushed my brown hair out of my face, cursing my full beard. I needed to shave soon.
At least my body was still well sculpted from my daily training. My skin was still that pale brown and my eyes their usual warm sepia—though they turned cerise when I lost control.
I stretched, feeling my muscles expand. Through the window, I could see the lush greenery of my kingdom.
I felt the earth shift beneath me, a reminder of my dragon earth magic. Inside me, Celen, my dragon, was restless, eager to spread his wings and soar.
I hadn’t let Celen roam free in days. “Soon,” I whispered to him, feeling his excitement settle inside me.
“My king!” An annoying voice cut through my peaceful moment.
I cracked open an eye to see Verion at the corner of my room near the window. His hand wrapped around the middle of the curtain as he forcibly parted it and caused sunshine to stream inside.
“Must you disturb me this early, Verion?” I groaned.
“The candidates for queen are set to arrive shortly, my king,” Verion said, seriousness in his gaze. “Here is your ceremonial suit!” He pushed the clothing forward.
It was a full black suit adorned with a velvet trim and tapered to fit my muscular frame.
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I dressed. “Yes, yes, I know. The council is desperate for me to choose a queen.”
Verion tried to keep up with me as I strode down the hallway, but his shorter legs were no match for mine. I mean, the guy is only five-ten, and I’m six-five—it’s not really a fair race.
We reached the dining room, and I locked eyes with my mother. Her long brown hair cascaded down her back, contrasting with her red gown.
My brother, Arion, sat next to her, his brown eyes fixed on me like always. What’s his deal?
“Good morning, Cerion,” Mother said, flashing me a smile. She looked much younger than her age, with skin just a shade lighter than mine.
I got her eyes, but everything else? That came from my dear old father—including his love for violence and his seriousness.
“Good morning, Mother, Arion.” I took my seat at the head of the table, watching my brother. He was always watching with jealousy, hidden intentions, and an arrogance that he didn’t merit.
I kept studying him until my breakfast arrived. He finally looked away, and I dug in, trying not to smirk. Keep scheming, Arion. It won’t get you anywhere.
Just as I was enjoying the peace and quiet, Verion burst in again. I nearly jumped out of my skin in annoyance.
“My king, pardon the intrusion in your breakfast,” he said, pausing to steady himself.
I sighed. “Verion…”
“My king, the choosing ceremony will begin momentarily.” He looked like he was bracing for an explosion, based on his wrinkled forehead and widened eyes.
I all but rolled my eyes. I was eager to get this dreaded ceremony over with. “Fine.” I got up and headed toward the throne room.
As I descended the stairs, memories swirled through my mind. The council had all but demanded that I choose a queen. Their rationale was that I was nearly past my prime, and “the Blood of the Dragon produces a true heir.” It had been our way for centuries, and they made sure to remind me of that.
I had left it to the council to choose a total of four candidates for me. My only specification was the matter of uniqueness. I wanted each candidate to hail from an equally unique dynasty as well as have the most important quality to me—beauty. I knew the royal lines didn’t lack beauty, just as much as they didn’t lack ambition. But I intended the role of queen to be one of a figurehead—political, for show and nothing more.
I braced myself for the swarm of women who’d approach me soon with fake compliments and swooning eyes. Even if they were princesses, they all had one thing on their minds: becoming the next queen. That was what every woman I’d ever slept with hoped for.
I made my grand entrance into the throne room, which was all decked out in red and gold—our house colors. The wood of the throne was carved with the Dani emblem, the dragon’s emblem. The shades of fire.
The room was filled with nobles and courtiers, all there to witness the ceremony. Verion placed himself in the corner by my throne.
He waved me over to my seat. I hadn’t used it in ages. It wasn’t the same for me as it was for my father.
He took the role of king as seriously as he took the role of warrior, but to me, being a king was all politics, and I was more concerned with the latter. I plopped down on the gold throne with its red velvet cushions.
Verion placed the gold crown adorned with red jewels and carvings of dragons on top of my head.
“My king,” he said. “I wish you all the best in your quest to find your queen. I will be at your side and at your disposal.” He bowed toward me. Verion almost got a smile out of me, but I kept my face blank and just nodded.
Verion scrambled to the side and held his head high as the herald’s voice rang out from the doorway. “Now presenting Princess Theodora of the Galve Dynasty!”
Princess Theodora entered, her fiery red hair and electric green eyes entrancing the room. She bowed in a princess-like fashion and offered me a smile. I kept my eyes focused on her for a moment, not offering her any type of approval.
The herald’s voice boomed again. “Now presenting Princess Helen of the Pacvoic Dynasty!”
Princess Helen had dark-brown hair and light-brown eyes. Her gaze seemed plain enough, but I could see the fire and her plotting nature behind her eyes. The political princess. I tore my eyes from her to let her know who was in charge. She seemed wounded by my actions. Good, I thought.
The herald’s voice sounded again. “Now presenting Princess Anya of the Vuttoli Dynasty!”
Princess Anya wore a black dress to match her raven-black hair, and she had tan skin and green eyes. She was beautiful but seemed empty beneath her eyes, boring.
The herald heaved in another breath of fresh air. “Now presenting Princess Kira of the Valon Dynasty!”
There was a pause. Finally, the door opened, and I expected to see the fourth and final princess stroll in, but the archway remained empty.
A minute later, there she was—Princess Kira, hesitantly wavering in the center of the doorway. A man hovered behind her. That must be her father, King Harold.
My dragon flickered inside me, intrigued by her presence and surprised by her hesitation.
Innocence shone from her face and her eyes. Kira Valon, nineteen years old, barely a woman, with light-blonde hair, blue eyes, and ivory-colored skin.
I studied her face for a moment. All the women who were chosen were beautiful, but her beauty was different. She seemed delicate and so very, very young.
I’d never met anyone from the Valon Dynasty before. They lived high up in the mountains, where winter reigned almost year-round.
Hell, who was I kidding? I was interested in bedding her even if I didn’t choose her as my queen.
The Valon Dynasty fascinated me. They were descendants of ice dragons, breathing frost instead of fire. Their power had been legendary until the trait stopped appearing in their heirs. Now, they were just like everyone else—except for their ethereal beauty.
The choice should have been easy. It should have been simple.
But matters had just gotten a bit more difficult, because as I stared back into her crystal blue eyes, something awoke inside me, along with the stirring of my dragon.
