Page 1 of No Ordinary Drakeling
Chapter 1
1369 AD, Castle Mardas
King Chrysander Mardasdraconis swung his sword in a great arc as he sparred with one of his men. It crashed into the blade of Duke Costas, and the vibration sang up Chrysander’s arms, but it didn’t slow him. He pivoted and slammed his weapon into Costas’s again as he tried to get through the dragon’s defenses. Each thunderous clash added to the cacophony of sound in the lists where many men were training. Spinning his body to avoid Costas’s attack, Chrysander soon found himself doubled over in pain. His eyes burned as they had only once before in his life—the day Fate burned silver circles around his irises, selecting him as a king.
“Your Highness, what ails you?” Costas asked.
Before Chrysander could offer any kind of reply, a body hit the dirt near him, and his brother’s hand came down onto his shoulder. “Chrys, are you wounded?” Damian shouted.
Cold fear washed over Chrysander. There was only one title higher than his, and if Fate deemed him ready to rule, it meant his predecessors had to be dead. There was a burning sensation on his forearm, and there was only one word he would find etched temporarily into his skin. Without lifting his lashes, he yanked up his sleeve and gasps reached his ears as they all bore witness to the word “Draconis.”
“Chrysander, damn you. Stand,” his twin demanded.
With a heavy heart and tears threatening, Chrysander used his sword to balance his weight and slowly, he straightened his spine. Opening his eyes, he sought out his brother’s troubled gaze. “Damianos, the emperors are dead.”
“I see the truth of your words in the gold rings where silver showed before,” Damian said. “And only Mother calls me Damianos.”
“It is the name she gave you at birth.”
Damian waved an impatient arm through the air. “I care not to discuss it. We have more important matters at hand.”
“I cannot fathom their deaths. They ruled for only fifty years—they could not have been old men.”
“We shall go to Castle Draconis and find the truth of their demise. Let us hie to our chambers and collect our things. We cannot delay our travels.”
“I know it, yet I worry over my people,” Chrysander said, stalling. His greatest fear was leaving the castle gates and finding out his twin was his successor as king. Like Chrysander, he was a black dragon, the most powerful hue of their people. Or just as dangerous to Chrysander’s way of thinking was the possibility that Costas would have the title. Not related by blood, Costas was still very much his brother. How he could take on the task of ruling without them, he did not know.
“Fate will provide a new ruler here at Mardas. Your people are now all dragonkind,” Damian reminded him after several minutes of carefully watching Chrysander’s face. He had no words to convey the sorrow and terror inside him, but as he had since birth, Chrysander let only confidence show. Damian, however, saw everything, and so his tone was soft and meant to soothe.
Before he could respond, loud curses filled Chrysander’s ears as a boy tried to run into the training area but was thwarted by the armed dragons.
“I must speak with His Highness,” the boy yelled when they would not let him pass.
“You will address him as His Majesty. Fate has made him Emperor,” one warrior shouted as he grabbed the collar of the boy’s shirt and lifted him so high, his feet dangled in the air.
“Then sense has been made of my tale,” the boy rushed out, apparently undeterred.
“Let him speak,” Chrysander stated. “Release him.”
The warrior let go, and the boy fell to the ground in a great cloud of dust. He rose and brushed himself off with a glare for the soldier, then strode over to Chrysander and lowered into an exaggerated bow. “Your Majesty, my father is one of your guardsmen. He bade me find you as there is a man at the gates saying he is King Mardasdraconis.”
“That was quick,” Costas muttered.
“Fate made me Emperor but minutes ago,” Chrysander found himself replying.
“Aye, the new king says he was flying toward our castle. He was a duke traveling home and was going to beg for food. His now-former ruler sent him on an errand, and he was not set to return so soon, but word reached him that his lady wife has given birth,” the boy explained. “I did see him myself and there were silver rings in his eyes, which is why I ran as fast I could to find you, Your Majesty.”
“You’ve done well,” Chrysander assured him. “Tell your father to allow him in. I will have speech with him before I leave for Castle Draconis.”
The boy grinned and dashed off.
“We must get going,” Damian stated.
“Costas, you and Damian grab your belongings. We leave as soon as I finish speaking with His Highness,” Chrysander ordered as he headed to the castle he had ruled over for the last two centuries. He did not know what awaited him at Castle Draconis, but there was a pit forming in his belly. Emperors Drystan and Conley were dead, and somehow Fate thought him up to the task to take over their duties. Chrysander would not fail her.
Chrysander hadn’t met the pair. There was a dragon festival set to begin in several months, and he’d hoped to have the opportunity then. They were the first mated dragons of the same sex to rule over their kind. It was something that delighted Chrysander; he too preferred men in his bed as did his twin and the ever-present Costas who’d been at his side for so long. He hoped it would herald in a new era of tolerance as there were many dragons who viewed it as unnatural.
Rumors reached his ears that Conley was exactly what one would expect of an emperor—instead of a black dragon, he was as golden as the rings Fate had just burned around his irises, but Chrysander was sure they had exaggerated his gilded color. There were no dragons of that brilliant hue.
