Dragon Empress

Chapter 2

Locked it must remain. Shivnath knew this. It would jeopardize the balance. She couldn’t risk it.

But bubbling up from the darkest depths of her soul came a thought, a truth, a voice that sounded very much like Helkryvt’s:

I don’t care. I sacrificed everything for this ungrateful, wicked world, and what do I have to show for it?

She made her choice. Tracing the threads of her bond through the rolling, endless loop of spacetime, she walked between universes, searching.

The word slipped from her mind and was forged into a thought—a thought that reached her bondmate on the other side of eternity.

came the faint reply, not so much reaching her brain as filtering into her soul.

She closed her eyes. She had a lot of explaining to do. The Etherworld had been her idea. The gods could not have destroyed Necrovar, after all, without destroying the balance.

he continued.

That was as close to an apology as she would ever come.

The venom in his mindvoice seared the inside of Shivnath’s skull.

The accusation shredded what little was left of Shivnath’s heart.

she replied at length, in a mindvoice aloof and stoic. She would not let him see her turmoil.

he retorted.

she admitted.

thought Shivnath, her withered heart silently weeping,

the Darkness spat.

In that other universe, swathed in the shadows of her cave, Shivnath hung her head.

There was a pause that lasted an age.

How, indeed? Caught between her love for two creatures who hated each other, she’d made a choice that had effectively doomed all three of them.

But she was Shivnath, the master of manipulation. She knew the binding laws inside and out—and she knew how best to break them.

She sensed the equivalent of a mental scoff from him.

she snapped.

she countered.

Shivnath told him softly.

“There is always a choice,” said Shivnath, telepathically and aloud. She narrowed her eyes and steeled her heart. “I will find the answer. When I do, I will put everything right.”

CHAPTER ONE“Make them fear you and you will be powerful. Make them believe in you and you will be unstoppable.”

~ Beledine Arowey, Second Age

Twelfth Age, Year 611

Being a hero was hard work.

Keriya Soulstar groaned and pressed a pillow over her ears as the alarm clock on her nightstand chimed five. She had never been a morning person, and recently she’d been enjoying her sleep—no night terrors, no restless hours, no haunting memories. She longed to luxuriate in her newfound peace, but sleeping in was not part of a hero’s schedule.

A muscled arm reached over her, tapping the insistent clock into silence.

“Rise and shine,” Viran murmured. He brushed a soft kiss on her shoulder before rolling away to start his morning routine.

The sentiment was sappy—and irritating, because everything was irritating at five o’clock in the morning—but Keriya couldn’t help the drowsy smile that spread across her face.

Viran, having lived in the military most of his life, was disciplined in a way Keriya could never hope to be. Every morning was the same: he showered, dressed, stretched, read for twenty minutes, and left to start his day before the clock chimed six.

She dozed through most of his routine. It had been a long time since her body had allowed her to rest, and she cherished these calm moments.

“Keriya, you’re going to be late.”

She gasped as a blast of cold airmagic snaked beneath the blanket, ripping it away. Pushing herself up, she scowled at Viran. Amusement glittered in the depths of his blue eyes.

He wouldn’t leave until she was up, and if she lingered any longer, she’d make him late. With another groan, she swung her legs off the bed.

“I’m awake.” She pushed a matted cloud of white hair out of her face and squinted at him through eyes crusted with sleep. “Happy?”

He bowed, sweeping aside his cloak. Sethildras, the legendary blade she’d gifted him, glinted at his hip. “You are a vision of beauty, my little dragon.”

Keriya hurled her pillow at him. Viran sidestepped and opened the door, ducking into the bright marble hallway of the eastern wing.

“Love you, even though you’re making fun of me,” she called.

“And I love you, even though you’re attacking me with deadly projectiles.”

The door clicked shut, and Keriya began her own routine. She grabbed her uniform from where it lay in a crumpled heap beside a stack of books, then went to the bathroom to change.

Made with Erastatian silkworm threads that shimmered white-gold, containing built-in armor courtesy of the dwarves, the uniform made her look older and regal. She admired the glint of the trimmings in the bathroom mirror—and frowned when her gaze landed on her face.

“Mm. Let’s do something about that hair.”

Keriya represented the Empire of Allentria, and she had to look the part. She dragged a brush through her mane and applied her secret weapon: a potion that turned her frizzy tresses sleek and shiny. Satisfied with her appearance, her gaze shifted to the piece of parchment she’d tacked up beside the mirror.

To Do List:

1. Clean room

Keriya shot a guilty glance into the room, which was . . . not filthy, but very much in a state of disarray. It wasn’t even her room, it was Viran’s. Though she had private quarters, she preferred to stay with him. Listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing helped her fall asleep. Having him beside her kept the nightmares at bay.

“I really should clean today,” she commented to Aurelas, her plain steel sword. It rested on the table near the balcony doors, half-hidden amidst piles of scrolls, maps, and chicken-scratch notes Keriya scribbled while researching.

Cleaning, however, seemed an insurmountable task. Papers littered every available surface, and she’d have to quadruple-check each page before discarding it. She didn’t have time for that. It was nearly six-thirty, which meant she had to leave for . . .

2. Dress fitting

“Ugh.” Keriya yanked the list down. “No more delaying this.”

She grabbed Aurelas and buckled its belt around her waist, though there was no real reason to take the blade. Unlike Sethildras, which housed magic that had to be guarded, Aurelas was ordinary. She kept it because it held sentimental value. It had protected her from Necrovar.

Her mind clouded as it shifted to the Shadow Lord. Her stomach churned with nausea, so visceral and sudden that she hugged her arms to her abdomen.

“It’s fine,” she whispered. “I’m fine.”

Slowly, her sickness subsided. Keriya stuffed the list into her pocket, embraced her magicsource, and teleported.

Lightmagic transported her at impossible speed, making her feel as though she were expanding to the size of the universe. Then she was small and compact again, arriving at the in-house Imperial clothier. Three floors, two corridors, and one tower away from Viran’s room in the east wing.

Gods, but Keriya loved magic.

A petite Erastatian stood by the gilded doors. Short and slender, she was a perfect picture of poise. Her golden curls looped in an elaborate up-do, her rosebud lips gleamed pink, her sky-blue eyes were artfully outlined with cosmetic paint, her peach skin was flawless.

“You’re late.” The woman’s commanding voice was at odds with her doe-eyed gaze.

Keriya pointed to the clock that hung at the intersection of halls. “It’s six-thirty exactly.”

“Fifteen minutes early is on time. On time is late,” said Alisa Belbreeze, Chief International Liaison of the Imperial Alliance Institute. She threw open the clothier doors and swept inside.

Grumbling under her breath, Keriya followed.

The fitting wasn’t as bad as she’d expected, though it was still pretty bad. Belbreeze had chosen the fabric and style of Keriya’s dress for the upcoming New Year’s Gala. It was purple—and a bit too revealing.

“Can I . . . request sleeves?” Keriya asked, surveying her outfit in the three-paneled mirror. The gauzy trails hanging off her shoulders did nothing to conceal the collection of scars on her arms, and the v-shaped neckline put her darkest scar on display.

“No,” said Belbreeze. “You’ve delayed so long that you left no time for adjustments.”

“We have a week.” Keriya ran her fingers over the puckered patch of discolored skin on her sternum. Necrovar had given her that mark.

A reminder of a past she couldn’t outrun.

“And every day is packed with preparations.” Belbreeze whipped out a clipboard, displaying an itemized schedule that put Keriya’s list to shame. “Besides, this gala is your societal debut as much as it is a celebration of our new alliances. We want you to look your best.”

At seven-fifteen, Belbreeze called a halt to the fitting and departed for her next meeting with the royal Jidaelni envoy. Keriya changed back into her uniform and pulled out her crumpled list.

3.

Eat breakfast!!

It seemed trivial, but it was the most important thing she could do for herself. As a Tier Eleven wielder, her body burned energy at an exceptional rate when she used magic. To avoid the gaunt look of working mages and maintain muscle mass, she needed proper nutrition.

The banquet hall was bustling when she arrived. Crystal chandeliers hung from the domed ceiling, illuminating tables laden with mouth-watering delicacies. Floor-to-ceiling bay windows overlooked the eastern quadrant of Noryk, where glittering skyscrapers speared the azure sky. Snow-dusted mountains loomed in the distance. The Imperial City was resplendent in the dawn.