The Dragon Fae King Read online

  The Dragon Fae King

  Clara Hartley

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Epilogue

  Thank you for reading!

  Rakarthen Academy Preview

  About Clara Hartley

  Chapter One

  NEREMIN

  If not for me, the little boy would be dead by dusk.

  “Please,” his mother said, bending her body at the waist and placing a hand on her shoulder. It was a common dragon fae gesture. One of respect. “Please save my boy. I told him not to near the dark ponds. I warned him that the waters there are filled with poisons and dangers. But he’s only child, just past his seventh year, and he doesn’t—”

  I raised my hand, silencing the mother. The flame burning next to her licked back and forth, lighting the sides of her pointed ears, and the smell of burning wood filled my study.

  “Your boy will be safe,” I said, hovering my hand over the child’s skin. He had pointed ears, just like me and his mother. He was lying on a bed I’d conjured through my magic. Vines wrapped around each other, creating a raised platform for his small, frail body to lie on. I waved my hand back and forth and called to the caparas—magical beads—wrapped around my wrist. I extracted a faint amount of magical essence from them to cast my spell. The beads pulsed as life essence emanated from them. Wisps meandered around my fingertips. “He was poisoned by deliriuaem. A rare mushroom.”

  The mother shook her head. “I’ve never heard of it before.”

  I looked down, raking my gaze across the dark-haired child. He was lucky his mother got him to me as soon as she did. Five minutes too late, and the poison would have stopped his heart. “It’s a rare species, only showing itself once every thirty years. I’m surprised he even managed to find it.”

  “Every thirty years? What did my child do to deserve this misfortune? You have to save him, please, my king.” The mother’s eyes glistened with tears. She clutched her hands to her chest, her lower lip quivering. “Please save him. He’s my only boy, and I—”

  “I will,” I said. “Now stop whining and let me concentrate. You don’t want to feed him the wrong potion now, hm?”

  She halted at my quip, then sucked in a sharp breath. Peace and quiet followed after. I moved toward my concoctions. I shifted some beakers aside to get to what I needed before mixing together a turquoise and red potion. The liquids swirled together, forming a sparkling purple. I lifted the beaker and flicked my finger against it twice. “This should do it.”

  I peered at the mother. Questions filled her damp eyes but she remained silent. I must have spoken too harshly earlier. I often forgot to remain tactful. Trying to keep up appearances was far too tiring for someone who had as many things to do as I did. “Lighten up a bit,” I said. “Today is faerilara, isn’t it?” Outside, my subjects danced to another one of the fae folk’s celebratory days. They had too many of those. They threw occasions whenever they could. “Tons of cheer outside.”

  The other dragon fae had invited me to join them, but I was tired of having to put up a front all the time.

  I liked being important, and power could be a delicious thing, but being considered omnipotent and untouchable also made it exceedingly difficult to make friends—real friends. Star-struck gazes and sugared words didn’t come from people I considered friends.

  “Faerilara,” the mother echoed, wringing her fingers together. She laughed sheepishly, then shuffled closer to me to peer at her son as I tipped the potion into his lips. “I just want my boy to be all right. I don’t have the mind to think about parties right now.”

  I scrunched my nose up. “He’ll be fine. Why waste a good celebration?”

  The mother frowned at me, her left ear twitching.

  “Common folk can usually enjoy the cheer and drink without too many disturbances.” The rest of the dragon fae often tried to curry favor from me. I took little enjoyment in trying to avoid falsehoods and fake people.

  Once I ensured that the boy had properly ingested the potion, I placed my hand over him and willed for another spell to cover his body. I sensed more magic being drawn from my caparas. The magic wrapped around the boy, working with the potion I’d given him. His skin emitted a faint purple glow. When I finished, I let my hand fall to my side.

  The boy was still unconscious.

  His mother shot a glance at me. “He’s still not awake.”

  “Give it time,” I said. I walked to my desk and picked up a book before slipping myself into my study chair. I clicked my fingers together, summoning more magic, and the lantern beside me grew brighter, lighting up the dusty pages of my book. Just as I flipped it open, the boy gasped. He coughed.

  Sat up.

  His eyes widened.

  “Momma—”

  “Oh!” The mother’s reaction was instantaneous. She bent down toward her son, wrapped her arms around him, then pulled him toward her chest. “Oh, in the name of Rakarth. Thank you thank you thank you.”

  I glanced up from my book. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

  “No,” the mother said. “No, you’ve helped so much. Thank you, Your Majesty. How may I repay you?”

  “I’m just doing my job,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “There’s nothing else you need me to fix, yes? His face, perhaps?”

  The mother shook her head. “I don’t see anything wrong with my son’s face.”

  “His nose is gigantic.”

  Her cheeks puffed. Confusion flashed across her as if she couldn’t decide whether to be grateful or mad.

  I tapped my chin, considering. “Repayment, huh? I wouldn’t mind a quaint family dinner. It has been a while since I had one of those.”

  “A family dinner?” she asked, raising her brows.

  It’d been a long time since I had my own family. I was cursed with a lonely existence.

  She pursed her lips. “I don’t think someone like you should be coming to my place. It’s beneath you.”

  “Everybody always thinks they’re beneath me. It’s honestly quite frustrating.” I wanted to find an equal. Someone who could share my pains and whom I could love.

  “I can try—”

  “Never mind,” I cut in, already bitter from her initial rejection. “I’d like to be left alone now. Your boy should be completely fine. He can go play. With friends and the like. You know, the fun stuff that all the other dragon fae seem to be doing.”

  “He might want some rest first,” his mother said.

  I flicked my fingers at her, indicating that she should leave. “Whatever. I don’t really care. Eat, sleep, play. He can do it all now. The door’s right there, so please, see yourself out.”

  “Yes, of course. At once.” The mother bowed, then forced her recovered child to do so too. She spun around and scurried out, into the corridor. She ushered h
er son along with her. The boy had trouble understanding what exactly was going on, and with widened eyes, he turned his head back and forth, inspecting the area. The mother pulled the door close behind her, leaving me alone in my study.

  Alone.

  I’d gotten used to being lonely. I’d been feeling solitude ever since I’d become magic meister of the dragon fae. They saw me as their king. Their ruler. That was ninety-nine years ago. Just one more year, and I’d be celebrating a hundred years of isolation.

  I sat reading for hours. I rubbed my nose with my thumb and trained my eyes on my book.

  The works of this author were exceedingly morbid. He wrote of dying creatures with nowhere to go, cursed mortals who had to live punishingly mundane lives.

  That was why I enjoyed his tales.

  Watching his characters suffer on these written pages reminded me that my life wasn’t so terrible, even though nobody really cared to know the real me. I had miserable characters to keep me company, so I wasn’t alone in my bitterness. I tried to convince myself that the books sufficed.

  Outside, fae songs played with an upbeat tune. The sun was still out, shining upon the trees of Thesnan, the world of Rakarth’s creations. I heard laughter and the exuberant sounds of their festivities. They found a reason to celebrate every weekend. I wondered if they ever tired of it, because I tired of hearing them having so much fun without me. Once I stepped into their celebrations, the noise would quiet, and they’d be there to tend to my needs, intending to get into my good books. It was nice at first. I’d been a lowly country farm boy whom no one cared about before all this attention. But then I saw the falsehoods behind their smiles.

  I flipped to the next page, attempting to drown out the sounds. I recalled that time when I complained about how frustrating it could be to be the mage meister. One of my servant fae had laughed at me. How could someone with as much power as I be dissatisfied? She didn’t understand. Nobody did. The same servant had told me that I always looked like I wore a half-smile. That did little to convince people about how resentful I could be about my position.

  I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. It wasn’t my choice to be the meister. The forest orb had called to me, choosing me even though I’d grown up thinking I was going to be a farmer just like my deceased father. I’d been excited then. Not anymore. Being chosen had ripped away my excitement for the simple things.

  I was lost in the contents of my novel when, in the center of my study, the forest orb pulsed. The forest orb was respected by all fae. It had chosen me as the mage meister.

  It emitted a green fog and released a hissing noise as magic swirled around it. I lowered my book and narrowed my eyes. I shifted, straightening my back as I cocked my head. The orb had never released a noise this loud before. Why was it behaving so oddly?

  The only way to get it to quiet was for me to peer into it. The orb foretold the future. It was a tool for me as the mage meister to protect Thesnan. When dangers neared, the orb would pulse, just as it did now, to warn me of what was to come. It was never a good thing whenever the orb made a sound as it did. The object was so powerful it could reverse a calamity, but only once, and at a great price.

  I ambled toward it and leaned over. Waving the fog away, I peered into its glass surface.

  “Rakarth’s blood,” I muttered, inching back. A creature leapt at me. It had the shape of a human, its ears pointed, but it seemed supernatural. The creature looked dead. The vinelike hair sprouting from its skull was rotting and matted, wrapping around cracked antlers. It opened its mouth, revealing blackened teeth. Just like its teeth, its body was decomposing, with bones peeking out of its flesh, its ribcage sticking out from its blackened skin.

  An undead.

  A teramarth.

  I stepped away from the orb and moved toward my stack of books. I pulled out something I remembered reading years ago, the memory of its contents only vaguely appearing in my mind. I’d dog-eared the page of the important information—a punishable sin. I flipped to my bookmarked page and opened the tome, slamming it against my desk, which was littered with scrolls and documents I’d been perusing. Printed on the book was an image of what I saw in the forest orb. The researcher who’d drawn the image had called the creature a teramarth, named after the mountains it had been found in.

  Hadn’t we encountered some of these twenty-five years ago? We’d sent a team of dragon fae to investigate the matter, and only one survivor returned. Gorathiel, the survivor, told us those monsters had been completely taken care of.

  If the orb had made so much noise and showed the image so vividly, it meant that these creatures were going to be a significant problem in the future.

  Should I inspect them myself?

  I nodded, already making my decision. I walked to my pile of caparas, all filled with magic due to the work of my servant fae and exchanged the drained beads on my bracelet with new ones. I swung my satchel over my torso, shoving some supplies into it, and readied myself for a teleportation spell.

  I’d almost forgotten my meister coat. It told everyone of my rank. I reached for it, before deciding to leave it on the couch I’d left it on. I wanted to just be myself today, away from the eyes of the others. Simply Neremin Eilreine.

  I picked up my sword. Its blade was made of glass, since fae burned at the touch of iron. As I swung the sword around my torso, sounds of festivities intruded my home.

  “Oi!” a dragon fae shouted from outside. Laughter followed his shout, and then came a chorus of singing. I didn’t have to look out my window to know that the fae were dancing.

  I sighed, shaking my head, ignoring the bitter taste in my mouth.

  I had no time for drinks and games. I had duties and responsibilities to fulfill, and while all the other dragon fae basked in their merriment, I left to find the undead.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gone out without my meister coat on. Ten, twenty years, maybe? Putting it on had become somewhat of a routine, and I wasn’t sure what possessed me to go out without it today. I had a sense that all would be different soon, and it didn’t hurt to be slightly more adventurous with my wardrobe.

  I walked into the field in my simple tunic and pants. The sounds of the fae celebrating weren’t so evident here.

  The buildings in Cardell were made of plants and dirt. Most of our homes were imbued by magic and were created from intertwining vines. Fae needed to be close to nature to use their magic best. I walked out of my door and left my home at noon, when the sun was brightest in the sky. Such weather would ensure the best results from my teleportation spell. The more sun shone outside, the stronger fae magic was.

  Behind my home was a large flower field. Blue hydrangeas swayed in the winds, catching the light breeze that swept past.

  I preferred them red today. I was in that kind of mood, and because I was the mage meister, it was easy to change my surroundings.

  I clicked my fingers and gave mild focus to my soul beads. The flowers snapped from blue to red at once, the entire field bending to my will. I studied the slight change in my environment and nodded to myself. Good. Red was a pleasant choice of color. It was as vibrant as my mood.

  It was convenient to be the most powerful fae in all of Thesnan.

  Changing the colors of objects was a simple trick, one that needed few soul essences. Teleportation, strangely, was a more powerful spell that cost more souls. The spell required more of my attention, and I didn’t want to mess it up, lest I pop up in the wrong place and waste my souls. I concentrated, lifting my hands out in front of me, and allowed my body to call to the surrounding nature.

  A gush of power surged through me. I paid attention to my breathing, emptying my mind, before envisioning the location I wanted to show up in.

  I had to go to the Teramarth Mountains, where the undead should be. The mountains were rocky and hilly, with jagged peaks that were covered in red moss. I pictured the feragle birds that flew around those peaks, their wings giving off fier
y sparks that formed trails behind them.

  The winds picked up in speed and swirled around me. A lifting sensation whooshed through my core.

  And I was off.

  But as the essence of my body traversed the expanse of Thesnan, another force shook through the fae lands.

  Bang!

  The sound reverberated through my essence.

  It disrupted my magic, mixing with my essence, and knocked me off my intended trajectory.

  I meandered off course. My essence wavered, even as parts of it strung back together. When it became whole again, my entire body felt strange. I shuddered as a sharp pain thrummed through me. I’d solidified, the teleportation spell ending, but it hadn’t worked as intended. I wasn’t at the Teramarth Mountains. I was surrounded by tall trees and large green leaves.

  A forest?

  My vision blurred. I couldn’t get a good look at where I was. I rubbed my eyes. It hurt to even move my arms. Groaning, I took one wobbly step forward. When was the last time I’d felt this weak? I let out a choked sound before I tripped and fell toward the ground.

  I tried lifting myself up, but my body was too heavy, my head too groggy. I struggled to stay awake, but I was too tired despite my efforts.

  I muttered a curse, my vocal cords so weak they remained soundless.

  I clutched my hands over my forehead, my vision turning to black. I lost control of my body, the weight of it too much for me to keep upright.

  I fell, my body smashing against the grass beneath.