The Dracones
Автор
Kellene
Прочтений
398K
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49
Kit’s life shatters the moment she is taken from her home and thrust into a hidden world she never knew existed. There, she learns she has been chosen as a Dracones—a guardian sworn to protect dragons. The role is powerful, dangerous, and nothing like she imagined. Training pushes her to the edge while her assigned partner, brooding and secretive, seems far from thrilled about the match. As Kit struggles to understand her new purpose, darker forces circle closer, each with their own interest in her fate. With dragons to guard, secrets to unravel, and her soul suddenly very valuable, Kit must find courage fast in a world where trust is rare and danger is always one step behind.
1: Chapter 1
Low to the cold, smooth stone, I move as silently as death. My booted feet make no noise while my mask smothers all evidence of my breathing. Shadows hide my hooded figure as I hug the wall, one hand gripping the knife around my calf.
Not six feet in front of me lies King Draven. He’s in a deep slumber, his snoring giving testimony to that.
Deep-violet sheets mainly cover the king and his sleeping mistress. She just recently turned eighteen and has been here since that day. I can hear her trying to stifle her crying, eliciting a hard wince from me; the noise triggers horrifying images to invade my focused mind.
Quickly, I push them away and skate alongside the wall, careful to avoid tables. They’re covered in liquor bottles and metal cups. Just the slightest unexplained bump will alert the guards to my presence.
Signaling my progress, I step on a thick red rug that lines the floor under the bed. Though the carpet is thick and plush, you can make out the lining of the trapdoor handle it conceals. It also does nothing to hide the bloodstains from his last mistress, who got pregnant.
I suppress a horrified shudder and move along the darkened walls. The moonlight streaming from the open window highlights the king’s bulging belly, shiny with sweat and sagging on the mattress, as if trying to eat it. Disturbingly, my mind has the audacity to try to picture the portly king in bed.
I bite my tongue, trying not to gag. Why, brain?
Eventually, I get to the hard wooden nightstand that is next to the disgusting man. Moving quietly, I open the heavy wooden drawer of his nightstand and take his very heavy coin purse. I tuck it down my tight, unforgiving shirt to minimize sound.
Deciding to be a bit more mischievous, I take his necklaces and rings as well.
Completing the first half of my mission, I roll under the heavy bed. Miraculously, I narrowly avoid the chamber pot and move the mercifully empty thing to the corner of the bed. I come out on the other side of the bed in a crouch position, bringing me face-to-face with the beaten girl.
Her dark-ebony skin and angelic face make it easy to see why the king is drawn to her. Another part is her heritage. Princess Mytheena.
Engaged to the soon-to-be High King Derrick Bronznic, a fair-skinned man whose beauty runs parallel to hers. They’ve been matched to each other since Derrick’s birth, two days after Mytheena’s. It would have likely gone that way without the arrangement.
Those two are madly in love and have been since they were five.
Sensing my eyes on her, Mytheena opens her amber eyes, widening them as she takes me in. Quick as a snake, I swiftly cover her mouth with my gloved hand, while my bare hand rests its pointer finger against my lips, urging her to be quiet. I shake my head at her when I feel her lips part.
Immediately, she furrows her brow. I pull out a blue butterfly clip from my pocket and hold it out for her to see. Quick as she can, she snatches it from me before cradling it against her chest.
Slowly, I take my hand from her mouth and motion for her to come beside me. She looks over her shoulder as she slides off the bed, checking to see if her tormentor is going to notice her absence. I hold up a finger and dig through a pouch that has been sewn into my clothes.
Hurriedly, I pull out a kidnapping note and a dead rat. Mytheena eyes me cautiously as I take the knife from my boot, while I lay the note on the desk with the rat on top. Deftly, I stab the blade through the rat and note, attaching both to the desk.
While she stares at me in confusion, I start moving. Instantly, Mytheena follows with less than a step between us, leaving me no room to make an error. I move her to the open window before slowly standing to scan the grounds.
Guards are walking around the yard, looking nowhere in deadened gazes. They find this boring. I don’t blame them.
There hasn’t been a successful break-in in ten years, as far as they know.
I motion at her to follow my lead and grab hold of the ivy-covered wooden fence before starting my descent. By hiding in the ivy, we’re able to follow it to the garden it leads to below without being seen. With Mytheena’s hesitation and clumsiness, it takes us five minutes to make it down.
What also slows us down is that we have to be slow enough to avoid catching the attention of archers not twenty yards away from us. Mytheena makes it down a few moments after me, leaving me to seek refuge in the ivy and time to scan ahead. Her slowness is a blessing at that moment.
It gives me enough of a warning that I am able to yank her into the pile of ivy as the guards near us while they are making their rounds. As soon as they’ve passed, I snatch her out of our hiding spot and keep her hunched down low to the ground as we continue our escape. We stick to the walls and the shadows they create, her untrained feet making noise on every little thing possible.
I wince at every stick she clumsily breaks.
By some miracle, we make it to the canal unseen. This is when Mytheena starts to hesitate. I have to pull her into the water.
It is like trying to drag a horse into water. She resists the entire time, but some sheer force keeps her from yanking me back and knocking us both on our asses. Freezing water grips our feet, slowly dragging us both in with what feels like invisible hands.
Only my mind keeps me from turning back. The only thing keeping the princess from turning back is what waits for her and my iron grip on her trembling hand.
Eventually, my breathing becomes restricted. It feels like someone is sitting on my chest, and the longer I stay in the water, the heavier they get. We hug the side of the canal as far as we can, but eventually, our time runs out.
“We need to go under,” I tell her when we get to the low bridge, meeting bars dedicated to deterring break-ins. “They only go halfway down so we need to swim under them.”
She shakes her head at me, her petrified grip on me tightening. “I can’t. I’m afraid I lack your ability.”
I nearly groan. “Look at me, Mytheena. I know you’re scared, but you have the will. You survived being held by the bandit King Draven for two weeks. You earned the right to move on with your life and be happy. You have the strength to do it. You just have to trust me. I swear I’ll keep you safe.”
She starts shaking her head. “I can’t. I can’t. I don’t know how to swim.”
This time, I groan. I get behind her and put one arm around her waist. “Just do as I do, and don’t fight me.”
Mytheena fixes me with a determined stare, her jaw firm, giving me a slight nod. Once she takes a deep breath, I push her underwater, quickly following. She kicks as she feels my legs brushing against hers.
I use my free hand to guide us down the bars, unable to see them clearly because the water is so murky. Once we go underneath the bars, I start swimming.
Through the murky water, it appears Mytheena can just make me out, cutting through the water, trying to propel us forward with my free arm. I know this because it doesn’t take her long to mimic my movements, moving us faster through the slow-moving current and somewhat easing the dragging weight I carry. That’s good.
Practically everything that I am carrying is weighing me down, and so is she. Maybe I shouldn’t have taken so much gold. My muscles are working twice as hard as they should, which is never good when swimming in frigid water.
I keep us swimming after we clear the tunnel. Eventually, I let go of her waist, and she just holds onto my shirt. Once we round the bend, I bring us up for air.
It’s impossible for us to keep silent as sharp gasps of air evacuate our lungs before quickly refilling themselves without command. My body is screaming at me to get out of the chilly water, so I urgently pull her hand and head to the shore.
Once we’re out and on the ground, I give her no time to rest. I pull her with me and head straight to the trees. Following the signaling smell of smoke, we wordlessly race through the woods while I listen hard for any sign of pursuit.
Even though the moonlight is giving us just enough lighting to see the trees ahead of us, Mytheena keeps tripping over unseen roots. To solve this, I quickly grab hold of her hand and make her follow behind me.
About ten minutes after running into the woods, the view of a black Clydesdale comes into view, giving me much relief and causing a large smile to spread across my face. “Miny!” I call out to the sweet horse while the warmth spreads through my body. We make it.
Briefly, Mytheena pulls back on my arm but follows anyway. The beautiful horse starts heading toward me the moment she hears me call her.
“We’ll be entering camp soon to meet up with my partner,” I warn her, giving her time to brace herself. “After a quick change, we’ll be on our way in case we’re being followed.”
