Dragon Warriors Books 1-3: Dragon Warriors

By April Swanson

Meet the Dragon Warriors, the brave heroes who'll dedicate their lives to keeping you safe. There's just one thing they're not telling you ...
 

In the heart of the forest, the reclusive Dragon Warriors reside in their dark, dilapidated castle, operating outside royal instruction and protecting the realm from dragons, monsters and other unpleasantries. 

 

When Ramon Subramani, the queen's charming Chief of Swords, is sent to snoop on the Dragon Warriors, he soon suspects they're hiding something.

 

But the Dragon Warriors do not give up their secrets easily. To find the answers he's looking for, Ramon will have to confront uncomfortable truths from his past … and risk revealing some secrets of his own. 

 

This boxset includes the first three books in the Dragon Warriors series--a fun fantasy full of mystery, magic and slow-burn romance. 

 

Complete series reading order:

The Truth About Dragons (included)

Children of Shadow (included)

The Heart of the Queen (included)

The Call of the Dead

The Burning Dark

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: April Swanson
• Release date: Dec 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9798201583705

April Swanson

April Swanson writes fantasy novels with slow-burn romance, mystery and magic. She loves flawed characters, messy relationships, difficult decisions, and things that sparkle. You can sign up for her newsletter at aprilswanson.com

Book preview

—CHAPTER ONE—

The Captain's Mercy

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Alison Maccrae had never really wanted to be captain of the royal guard, but here she was, in the inner circle of the king and queen of Jerran, with an entire army at her command. Her promotion had resulted in a pay rise, a private office, frequent meetings with the royal family, and a complete severance of all friendships she’d had with the soldiers.

Captain Maccrae was stationed at the palace of Firefall, which sat atop a hill overlooking the capital city. The people were packed in tight in the city, jostling for space, and scuffles and brawls frequently broke out. For this reason, soldiers of the royal guard were always milling around, ready to break up the latest kerfuffle. Even though it was no longer her duty, the captain still liked to patrol the city on her own, breathing in the pungent air, eavesdropping on passing conversations, and keeping an eye out for suspicious behaviour.

It was a drizzly night when the captain heard sounds of a commotion coming from Bakers’ Square. She followed the shouts and jeers and clangs of metal, and found a crowd of people yelling encouragement to a broad, muscled man fighting in the middle of the square. His opponent fought with daggers instead of a sword, marking him as a foreigner, likely from the South. The foreigner’s clothes were tattered, his face was unshaven, and even from a distance the captain could smell that he hadn’t washed in a very long time.

Despite being worse for wear, the foreigner fought well, landing quick strikes and nimbly dodging the mighty blows from the Jerran’s sword. He bore no injuries, whereas the Jerran had a cut on his arm and cheek. But as much as the captain admired the foreigner’s skill, she still pushed her way through the circle of onlookers and yelled, Stop, in the name of Their Majesties!

Neither man paid her any notice and they carried on with their fight. The captain drew her sword and put herself between the two men.

Desist immediately, she barked. I am the captain of the royal guard. You will stop fighting or face punishment.

The Jerran grunted and reluctantly lowered his sword.

I’m dreadfully sorry, captain, said the foreigner, dropping his hands to his side. I would hate to incur the wrath of the noble royal guard. He then hiccuped, and the captain noticed he was drunk.

Be off with you, she told the Jerrans, and the crowd grumpily dispersed. You, she said to the foreigner, what’s your name? On close inspection she realised he was barely a man—nineteen years old at most. He had brown skin, black hair and rich brown eyes. She noticed he was wearing five gold rings on his fingers.

My name is Ramon Subramani. The young man hiccuped again, then put his knuckles to his mouth as if he were about to be sick.

You better not muck up my boots, warned the captain.

To her surprise, the man laughed. Don’t worry, dear captain, I’m in full command of my— His eyes glazed, and then he threw up everywhere.

Come on, son, said the captain. Let’s get you cleaned up.

She led the foreigner up the hill to the glittering palace of Firefall, where she called for servants and got him washed and dressed in fresh clothes. Then she let him sleep, and returned to the spacious new quarters she’d been granted since her promotion to Captain. Her thoughts stayed with the southerner sleeping next door, and she wondered why he was this far north, and scrapping around in the mud.

***

When Ramon Subramani woke up, he had no idea where he was. However, the shock was eased by the sumptuous nature of his surroundings. He was also pleased to find a bell cord hanging by the side of his bed. He pulled it, and moments later a servant entered the room.

How may I help you, sir?

In many ways, I imagine, said Ramon. You can begin by telling me where I am.

You’re in the palace of Firefall, sir.

"Firefall? Goodness, even I’ve never been in the company of royalty."

You were brought here by Captain Maccrae, said the servant. I must inform her you are awake.

Ramon splashed a little water on his face while he waited for the captain to arrive. A soft white towel had been left by the basin. He breathed in the flowery scent; it smelled like a bouquet of roses. There were roses engraved around the basin, too. He realised that his bedcovers were also embroidered with red and pink roses. And on the table—a vase full of yellow roses.

Goodness, Ramon said to himself.

The door opened and Captain Maccrae entered. She was young for a captain, not yet forty years old, and Ramon noticed that her movements lacked the confidence of people who’d held power for many years.

Tell me, said Ramon, why I’m in a room surrounded by roses?

The rose is the sigil of House Leviathet, the royal family, said the captain.

They certainly like to smear themselves over everything.

Do you feel better? the captain asked.

I’ll feel better once I get my hands on a razor. Ramon gingerly touched his cheeks, and winced to find so much hair growing there. I’m afraid I look quite the fright.

I’m not concerned about what you look like, son. I want to know who you are and what you were doing brawling in the centre of Ipsal.

I told you my name—Ramon Subramani—and I was brawling because I got into a disagreement with a chap about something silly. I believe most fights begin the same way.

Where are you from?

And here Ramon paused.

Don’t lie to me, the captain warned. I’m guessing you’ve burned a lot of bridges and you’ve not got many options left. I could offer you a new life, but so long as you tell me the truth.

And what new life would that be? Ramon said, rather impressed that the captain had been so accurate in her assessment of him.

You’re a talented fighter. If you were prepared to ditch your daggers and take up the sword, there might be a place for you here in the guard.

Life as a Jerran soldier ... now there’s an idea. What’s the pay like?

Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, said the captain. First, I want to know your background.

Very well, said Ramon. I was born in Karkarus. It’s an island in the South.

I know it, though I’ve never been. Why did you leave?

I got bored, said Ramon.

I told you not to lie to me.

Captain, I’ll tell you that I had no desire to stay in Karkarus. If you want more from me then I’ll thank you for your hospitality and take my leave.

Are you in trouble? the captain asked.

You could say so, said Ramon.

What kind of trouble?

Nothing that would endanger the king and queen, he replied.

I hope not, said the captain. Those rings on your fingers—do they belong to you?

Dear captain, I am no thief.

They’re pure gold.

Yes.

If you didn’t steal them, you must be noble-born.

So what if I am? said Ramon. Would that prohibit me from joining your army?

No, said the captain, we have many soldiers from high-ranking families. In truth, most of the noble-born soldiers had been sent to the guard because they couldn’t be trusted with the family coffers.

Well then, said Ramon, there’s no need to dwell on the matter. Now you must uphold your end of the deal—tell me about all the perks I could enjoy as a soldier.

You’d receive a decent wage—though not enough to buy gold rings—and you’d be stationed in quarters here at Firefall. A soldier’s life is not as miserable as you might imagine; in fact, some aspects are quite luxurious. The food is especially good. Their Majesties understand that if people are going to risk their lives for the realm, they must be treated well.

Good food and a warm bed? Sounds promising. But what of the downsides?

You must be prepared to die for Jerran, said the captain.

Jerran is at peace, yes?

For now, but Kerraven always poses a threat—

Kerraven has a tenth the power of Jerran! Ramon cried. Surely no one here is afraid of your dull neighbours?

The threat of war never fully dies, the captain said sternly. All it takes is one rotten egg on the throne and we’ve got ourselves an invasion.

Very well, I must lay my life on the line, said Ramon. What else?

The work is hard. You must train every day. The Chief of Swords is not an easy man to please.

You mean you don’t train the soldiers yourself?

No, the captain said. My time is mostly spent in meetings with the councillors, and preparing for all possible threats the realm might face.

You miss your old post, Ramon observed.

I miss being in daily contact with my soldiers, yes. So, what do you say to becoming one of them?

Ramon looked around the richly-decorated room. Captain, I think I might enjoy myself here.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, she said. First you’ve got to prove to me you’re worthy of the role, and then the king and queen will need to approve your appointment. They may not want a Karkassian fighting for them. You’ll have to prove you’re special.

That shouldn’t be too difficult, said Ramon. When do I begin?

***

Ramon’s self-confidence was well-placed, and he won not only the captain’s favour but that of King Romero and Queen Ferrera. The soldiers of the royal guard were slower to warm to him—he was a foreigner after all—but as soon as they saw how capable he was with his daggers and the sword, they accepted him into their circle. Though, even after proving his worth, Ramon never made a single friend in the army. They were acquaintances only.

Captain Maccrae continued to keep a watch over him, and unknown to the other soldiers, she frequently invited him to her quarters for private dinners. The young Karkassian intrigued her, and amused her with his charm, and over the years they developed a relationship that wasn’t quite a friendship, but it was stronger than any bond previously shared between captain and soldier. Yet, despite their increased closeness, Ramon never revealed why he had left Karkarus, nor did he ever fully explain why she’d found him in such a dishevelled state on that rainy night in Ipsal.

Being a soldier had never been a dream of Ramon’s, and he trained each day in the belief that Jerran would not go to war in his lifetime. As the years progressed with no hint of conflict, Ramon relaxed more and more. King Romero passed and Queen Ferrera followed not long after, and their daughter Estrella took the throne. None of this mattered much to Ramon, who didn’t really care who ruled Jerran. All he cared about was getting through the day’s work and then relaxing with a bottle of wine and a good book.

When the Chief of Swords was struck down by flu and failed to recover, it was Ramon who was promoted to the role, despite him being an outsider and with only ten years of experience. Some of the other soldiers grumbled, complaining that Captain Maccrae had always favoured the Karkassian, but most of the army welcomed the appointment. Ramon was a fine chap, they said, and he’d make a good Chief.

Ramon’s promotion commanded a higher wage, which meant finer wine, and his own private quarters with a balcony overlooking the Green Sea. There were meetings too—meetings with the queen’s councillors. And it was in these meetings that Ramon met Councillor Lynette Allard, who was to become the only friend he’d ever make during his time at the palace.

Lynette Allard was a tall, thin woman with pale skin and straight black hair that was always perfectly parted down the centre of her head. Her voice was high and sharp and whenever she spoke, you always got the feeling she was disappointed with you. Ramon liked her very much.

Not long after his promotion to Chief of Swords, Lynette invited Ramon to meet her family. He accepted at once—the Allards were one of the most prestigious families in Jerran, and Ramon felt most at home among cultured, sophisticated folk.

The Allard family home did not disappoint. Situated on the cliffs along the eastern coast of Jerran, the Allard mansion was built from white stone that glinted in the sun. Lynette’s mother and father greeted them at the door (no kisses or hugs were exchanged) and they ate lemon cakes in the garden glass house, which had its own fountain and little winding river.

How is the new queen settling? Lord Allard asked his daughter. You are close to her now, aren’t you?

Very close, replied Lynette. Her Majesty is adapting well to her new responsibilities.

And when will you become Chief Councillor? enquired Lady Allard.

That is unknown, Mother. Chief Colquhoun must die before he can be replaced.

And how old is he?

I believe the chief still has many years left in him.

Pity, said Lady Allard. Still, you are young enough yet. Her attentions turned to Ramon. Lynette says you are from Karkarus. How intriguing. What brought you to Jerran?

I heard the people were far more civilised in the North, my lady.

And who are your family?

We Subramanis are nowhere near as esteemed as the Allards, my lady. But tell me, do you know what these delightful blue flowers are? Unfortunately at Firefall we get nothing but roses.

Lady Allard indulged Ramon, but throughout the afternoon she kept slipping in questions about his family. On the return journey Lynette apologised for her mother’s behaviour.

She only wants to make sure her daughter isn’t associating with riff-raff, said Ramon.

I’m quite capable of making that judgement myself, Lynette replied with a sniff.

***

Ramon’s service at Firefall was largely uneventful. He wined and dined with Lynette most evenings, read lots of novels, and kept his skills sharp with the blade. He taught the soldiers, preparing them for a war that would hopefully never arrive, and he encouraged them when they complained that they did nothing but sort out minor squabbles in the city.

Far better than being chopped in half, Ramon said.

As time wore on, Ramon got better at forgetting where he’d come from. He got better at forgetting Karkarus. He began to relax, confident that no one from home would ever find him. But that all changed one day, fifteen years after the captain had dragged him out of the mud, when the Prince of Kerraven brought his new bride to the Jerran court.

Prince Edmund had an older brother, Alfred, so it was unlikely that this pair would ever rule Kerraven. Nevertheless, the finest guest suite was prepared, and a couple of vintage wines were fished out from the cellar. As Chief of Swords, Ramon was invited to the throne room for the welcoming of the prince and princess. As the doors opened, Ramon almost gasped aloud as his eyes fell upon the dark-haired woman by Prince Edmund’s side. It was none other than his cousin, Astrid. Ramon snapped his eyes to a point on the far wall, not daring to look anywhere in Astrid’s direction lest she recognise him. He tried to blend in with the councillors and servants and pots of roses that joined him in the throne room, and now he was grateful he’d been put near the back, not meriting a front-line position near Queen Estrella.

As the queen exchanged awkward pleasantries with the Kerraven royals, Ramon prayed that Astrid’s homeland wouldn’t crop up in the conversation. Did Estrella know that her Chief of Swords was also from Karkarus? His palms were slick with sweat, and each second seemed to last an age. But neither he nor Karkarus was mentioned, and Ramon escaped the throne room without the princess having noticed him. For the remainder of Astrid’s stay he spent as much time as possible in his quarters, and he breathed a long sigh of relief when the prince and princess returned to Kerraven.

But his relief was short-lived, for two weeks later a letter was delivered to his quarters.

For you, sir, said the messenger. The girl bowed low and offered the letter without looking at Ramon. This was the first time she’d ever delivered a letter to the Chief of Swords.

Ramon stared at the letter as if it were covered in poisonous snakes. Eventually the girl coughed, and Ramon took the letter from her hand. He didn’t say thank you.

It sat on his dresser for ten minutes. At first he told himself he would never open it—what good could come of it?—but then the urge to look overcame him. The letter read:

Dear Cousin,

I know it was you I saw in Firefall. I wish you’d come and said hello, for I do miss your company, but I understand why you didn’t, and don’t worry—I shan’t tell anyone that you are now in Jerran. I enquired after you, subtly of course, and was thrilled to learn that you are Queen Estrella’s Chief of Swords. I want to congratulate you on your remarkable climb through the ranks of the Jerran court. I know we serve different realms but I hope you share the same fondness for family as I do, despite everything that happened, and I hope our lands remain in a bond of friendship.

Regarding that friendship, I have reason to believe that Queen Estrella has sent spies to the Kerraven court. Yes, I understand how risky it is to put this in writing to you, but I have faith that a message addressed to someone as high-ranking as you will not be interfered with.

Ramon, you must urge the queen to stop this course of action. King Wilbur is old and at peace—surely she knows that Kerraven means no harm?

I believe it is up to us to maintain peace between our two nations. We are family, Ramon, and I know you and your father have not spoken in a long time, yet I hope you remember your roots. Your father came to visit me not long ago, along with your brother, and I must say it pains me to know there is this chasm between you. Speak to him, Ramon, reach out—he’ll understand. I don’t believe you are wicked and corrupt, truly I do not. You were always so sweet and kind to me, Ramon. We were all young and stupid once. We all make mistakes—and we should be forgiven for the crimes of our foolish youth.

But the crimes of foolish young monarchs have lasting consequences for us all. They are not so easily forgiven. Please speak to Estrella and urge her to see reason. Between us, we Karkassians can put to right these two silly lands.

I hope you are well, Cousin, and that the Jerrans are treating you kindly in spite of your heritage. I must say the people of Kerraven have been nothing but pleasant and gracious whenever I have gone out to greet them. I know everyone says Kerraven is a dull mass of grey and brown, but I find there to be something quite charming in this unassuming land. At least we don’t have dragons to contend with!

I do ask, for both our safety, that you burn this letter upon reading and do not share its contents with any other.

With fondest regards,

Astrid.

P.S. Do remember to speak to your father.

By the time he was finished Ramon’s heart was pounding. His cousin talked of others being young and stupid, and here she’d written a letter insulting the queen of Jerran. Ramon ripped up the letter immediately and tossed it into the fire, standing watch until every last shred had been reduced to ash. Nausea rolled through him. Someone from his past knew where he was. Astrid had promised to tell no one, but she was a fool, just like the rest of her family.

And the Mothers would descend from the heavens and prove their own existence before Ramon uttered another word to his father.

—CHAPTER TWO—

One Dead King

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Many years after Lynette Allard introduced Ramon to her family, she was still a loyal councillor by Estrella’s side. Lynette, being a woman capable of great stoicism, had firmly established herself as Estrella’s favourite. Queen Estrella had been in power for twelve years and was approaching the end of her child-bearing years, without any child to show for it. With no other living Leviathets, those close to her were beginning to get nervous, and those a little further away were beginning to get hopeful.

Lynette stood in the throne room beside her queen, her back stiff as iron. A long line of commoners stretched out through the door. Estrella hated having to listen to the people. She loved to speak to them, and have them listen to her, but holding an audience with the common folk was terribly trying for Her Majesty.

They’d already been listening to the people for hours. Most of them were there to complain about the weather, their neighbours, or their sorry lot in life.

I just want the rain to stop, an old man grumbled.

Pray to Mother Sia if you’re unhappy about the weather, the queen said. What do you expect me to do?

Next there was a rather peculiar complaint. A young man and woman approached the dais. Lynette could smell them both from where she was standing.

Our granny died last month, said the young woman. "She had this necklace, this pretty blue necklace, and she said I was to get the necklace. But my idiot brother—she jabbed her male companion in the ribs—said it was to go to him!"

I do not see how this has anything to do with the Crown, the queen said in her most regal voice.

I told my brother he was an idiot, the woman continued. Why would Granny leave the necklace to him? So I went looking for it but I couldn’t find it. Then I wondered if she’d been wearin’ it when she died. So I thought, I know, I’ll go dig up Granny.

Grave-digging is a crime—

I know, Majesty! the commoner cried. That’s what I came here to tell you. Granny wasn’t there where we left her. Someone else had got there first!

Are you saying your grandmother’s corpse has been removed?

I am, Majesty.

The queen pointed a finger at the woman’s brother. And have you checked his pockets?

I’ve turned his whole house upside down, the woman replied, but I can’t find the necklace anywhere. Honestly, he hasn’t got the brains to pull it off.

"Shovelling is a challenging task, the queen said. Very well, I shall look into it. Be gone."

The next complaint was regarding a lost sheep that had wandered into someone’s home.

What do I do with it, Majesty? a man asked. I don’t want it in the house, and I don’t want a dragon to come and eat it.

You could eat it yourself? the queen suggested.

The man paused for thought, then agreed this was an excellent idea, and left the hall with the poor bleating sheep under his arm.

After that, a couple came to complain that their neighbour was playing the lute at all hours.

A what? said the queen.

Lynette lowered her mouth to the queen’s ear and whispered, "A lute is a stringed instrument, Your Majesty. The Fool likes to play ‘Oh Bless Ye Dragon Warriors’ on it at all hours of the day."

That thing? I hate that stupid song! The queen pointed at the couple and said, You have my official permission to take your neighbour’s lute and smash him over the head with it.

The line decreased at a painfully slow speed, until at long last the queen dismissed the final complaint.

Someone get this thing off my head!

Lynette carefully extricated the crown from Estrella’s red curls. There, Majesty, you will feel better soon.

The only way I’ll feel better is if I never have to listen to these idiots ever again.

They are your people, Your Majesty, they love and respect you.

Pah!

After the public audience, the councillors held a meeting to organise a plan of action for all notable items that had arisen during the consultation.

All be seated, said Chief Councillor Colquhoun, taking his spot at the head of the table. He then spent the next minute shuffling papers, before dropping them all over the floor.

Why don’t I begin, sir? Councillor Mei said.

Chief Colquhoun looked up with an expression of mild surprise. Pardon?

I—shall—begin, Councillor Mei said loudly.

Hm? Oh yes. You do that.

Councillor Mei smiled sweetly. Firstly, she said, I think it’s rather a nasty business with that dead grandmother. I want someone to look into that immediately.

I don’t think that will be necessary, Lynette cut in. She sat across the table from Councillor Mei. Both were sitting as close as they could to Chief Colquhoun without actually sitting on his lap. The woman probably dug up the wrong patch of land, Lynette continued. She did not strike me as someone of great intelligence.

Not as bad as the brother, said the chief. Mind of a cabbage, that one.

It is agreed, then, said Lynette, that this matter will be put to rest.

I do not agree, said Councillor Mei.

Lynette sighed and turned to Chief Colquhoun, who was now attempting to remove an old toffee from his handkerchief. It is clear that this woman was mistaken, Lynette told the chief. It would be a waste of time and energy to go around digging up graves to check on their occupants, wouldn’t you agree?

Yes, yes, Chief Colquhoun said absently, I agree.

Councillor Mei fixed Lynette with a sardonic smile. "You do know it will be Her Majesty who chooses the chief’s replacement, not the chief himself."

I am aware, Lynette replied. Though I’m not sure what relevance it has to the current meeting.

I’m not about to die, said Chief Colquhoun cheerily, so there’s no need to— but his comments were interrupted by one of his coughing fits.

You think you can waltz into any position you like, Mei sneered at Lynette, "all because of your family. Well, it might once have been an asset, but now it will be your downfall. And what about your friendship with the foreigner? Mei shook her head and tutted. Do you really think we can have a new chief who keeps such poor company?"

Come now, said Councillor Friggate, that Ramon’s a lovely lad. ‘Course he shouldn’t be here on account of him being foreign, but he’s got such a nice face.

The position is mine, said Councillor Mei, her eyes glinting. You’ll have to walk over my dead—

At this moment, Chief Colquhoun coughed up a large gob of phlegm which flew out and smacked Councillor Jameson on the forehead, putting a temporary end to Lynette and Mei’s argument.

That night when the rest of the palace was supposed to be sleeping, Lynette went to the aviary. Her coded letter was wrapped tight in her hands. A dozen corvies—large messenger birds about the size of a hawk—dozed in the rafters. The highly intelligent corvies had fierce red beaks and glossy black feathers, with a white upside-down triangle on their forehead, which made them look like they were always frowning. Lynette slid her tiny scroll into the small tube fastened to one of the corvies’ legs and resealed the lid. She whispered in the corvie’s ear and watched it fly off into the night, praying it reached its destination unharmed.

She bumped into Councillor Mei on her way back to her quarters.

What are you doing out here at this time? said Councillor Mei.

A rather foolish question, given you are in the exact same situation, Lynette replied.

Were you up at the aviary? I hope you weren’t sending a letter to your brother.

I can send letters to whomever I like, said Lynette.

If the queen knew, she wouldn’t be happy. She doesn’t trust you. And if you get in my way, I’ll tell the queen that you and your family are planning a coup.

Sadly I cannot return the threat as your family holds no power or influence whatsoever, Lynette replied. But I shall gladly be free of your presence.

Lynette stepped to one side and Councillor Mei stepped to the other. Both women glared at each other as they passed, and then continued to look over their shoulders until the other was no longer in sight.

***

The following day the queen received some rather bad news. Whenever this happened, it wasn’t long before everyone knew the fine details. This was because Estrella had a tendency to scream the house down whenever she heard something that displeased her.

Her Majesty had just received word from Kerraven that King Wilbur had died and his eldest son, Alfred, had assumed the throne.

I’m not going to the funeral! Estrella shrieked at Lynette. "He didn’t come to Mother’s or Father’s so I don’t see why I should traipse all the way down to that miserable, rain-soaked little hovel they call home."

Quite, said Lynette. Nevertheless, we should send our condolences. Kerraven is our closest neighbour.

I know! I have seen a map before!

What do you intend to do? Lynette asked.

Send one of the ambassadors, the queen huffed.

And what about a gift for the new king?

"A gift! I’ll tell you what gift I’ll give him, I won’t invade his poxy little country, that’s what!"

The ambassador was packed off to Kerraven. Every morning the queen asked if there was news, and every day Lynette replied that there was not, but as soon as she had news Her Majesty would be informed at once.

At last the ambassador’s correspondence arrived at Firefall.

The ambassador reports King Alfred is good and kind, Lynette said cheerfully. He will be a fine ally.

But then Councillor Mei, who had also read the ambassador’s letter, piped up and said, The ambassador also says King Alfred is very exuberant, Your Majesty. She says he’s talking about war and conquest and power and all those things kings like to talk about.

Estrella looked to Lynette. Is this true?

I wouldn’t pay much heed—

He must be stopped! I need to know what’s going on down there! The queen collapsed into her chair and put a hand across her forehead. There are threats everywhere, Lynette. I can barely sleep at night.

Jerran is at peace, Lynette reminded her.

Are you saying Her Majesty doesn’t know her own feelings? said Councillor Mei. She knelt down by the queen and said soothingly, We’ll think of something, Your Majesty. King Alfred will rue the day he came to power.

***

While Lynette was trying to pacify the queen, Ramon Subramani was eating breakfast alone on his private balcony. From this high up he couldn’t hear the bustling sounds of the city, nor could he smell it. The stench of the capital was often so strong that the queen threatened to have everyone hung on the charge of smelling too bad. Only when her trusted advisors pointed out that a whole heap of corpses would smell even worse would the queen pull back from her conviction.

After breakfast, a blast of fresh air, and a hot cup of coffee, Ramon felt alert enough to begin the process of bathing, dressing, and making himself presentable for the day. Not many people bathed every day, but he reasoned that just because many people in Jerran didn’t have easy access to running water, didn’t mean he had to abstain.

Ramon’s brown skin was always flawless. Though he was now in his early forties, he’d pushed away the signs of ageing through sheer determination. His short black hair was always impeccably coiffed on the top of his head, and his moustache was perfectly shaped into two smiling curves. He lined his eyes with black and slipped his gold rings on his fingers. He dressed himself in spotless dark trousers, glossy black boots, and a navy tunic with a high collar. A thin ‘V’ of smooth brown skin was visible on his chest.

Ramon’s first task of the day was to sit through a morning meeting with the captain and councillors. Since the death of King Wilbur, Ramon had nervously waited for another letter from his cousin, but none had arrived. In all these years Astrid had kept her word and told no one he was here.

There’s nothing really interesting to say today, said Chief Colquhoun, wheezing slightly. "I thought the strawberry jam this morning was very nice."

It was brought down from Persival, supplied Councillor Mei. I much prefer home-grown goods. She flicked her eyes to Ramon.

What news do we have from Kerraven? asked Captain Maccrae. How is the new king settling in?

Oh the young lad’s fine, said the chief. Her Majesty’s got her knickers in a twist over it. Convinced he’s going to launch an invasion at any minute.

Have we sent sufficient congratulations?

The chief shrugged. I think some flowers and a basket of muffins got sent down that way.

We cannot risk war with Kerraven, said the captain.

"There will be no war, said Councillor Mei. Kerraven is small and poor compared to us. Even this pup king wouldn’t be so foolish to launch an attack. He’d be slaughtered."

Regardless of the outcome, warned the captain, we should do everything to ensure the relationship between our two realms remains cordial.

Once the meeting was over, Ramon and Captain Maccrae made their way to the courtyard, where the soldiers were lining up.

Surely this talk of Kerraven is nothing but fear-mongering? said Ramon.

I’m sure it will come to nothing, said the captain. And it is not King Alfred I am worried about ...

She and Ramon shared a knowing look.

But it is our duty to serve the realm, said Ramon.

Indeed, said the captain.

The captain retreated to her office and Ramon went to greet the soldiers.

Good morning, all, who would lay down their lives in the name of the queen, Ramon said, his moustache twitching. How are we this fine day?

A gentle rain had already soaked the soldiers.

Our hearts and souls are as warm as our bones, said a soldier in the front row. Such is our love for Her Majesty.

Ramon clutched his chest. You move me to tears, soldier, with your undying loyalty. If the queen knew, she would throw herself at your feet in gratitude. Now, Ramon said, circling his soldiers, his hands clasped behind his back, "I think it is time we crank up that heat. I heard some of you warbling last night, drunk no doubt on unholy ale. I, of course, being a man of honour, would never partake in such debased activities. Last night I whittled away the dark hours pondering my life and my purpose. But the rest of you, wretched drunkards, I want fifty laps from all of you, to repent for your sins!"

Yes, sir, the soldiers said, happy to get their bodies moving at last. Ramon joined them; he needed to keep in shape too. He wasn’t the fastest—he had ten years on most of the soldiers—but they always maintained a pace that allowed him to keep up.

After the warmup, Ramon moved onto drills, which kept the soldiers occupied until lunchtime. Then they ate together in the dining hall, which was reserved at that time for the queensguard. Ramon wished the captain would join them so he could dine with both his mentor and mentees, but Captain Maccrae had become more reclusive with age. And unlike Ramon, she didn’t need to constantly maintain the soldiers’ trust and respect, so she could squirrel herself away and still maintain authority.

There’s talk of this new king in Kerraven coming over the border, one of the soldiers said through a mouthful of bread. What do you think, boss?

Poppycock, said Ramon. King Alfred has heard the tales of Queen Estrella’s ferocious guard. Even if he were moronic enough to launch an attack, his advisors are not. Don’t worry yourselves with talk about Kerraven; it is far away and we are perfectly safe. What you should worry about is the stitch you’re going to get this afternoon after having eaten so much.

You’re really not worried? asked another soldier, one of the youngest.

Absolutely not, my dear. Ramon put a hand on her shoulder. The Kerraven army couldn’t mount an attack on the border wall, never mind our own forces. New monarchs like to wiggle their bits around when they first take power, show everyone who’s boss, but soon this boy-king will settle onto his throne and sit there until, in fifty years’ time, his heart gives out and we go through the whole process again. Of course by then we’ll be decrepit too, the indulgences of life showing plain in our jowls. Come now, less chit-chat, we must continue with our work, invasion or not. It would not do if those guarding the queen did not look fierce and powerful. It would not do at all.

Once training was over for the day, the soldiers left the palace to go drink in one of Ipsal’s many taverns. Ramon wanted to join them, but the captain had told him to maintain some professional boundaries, and Ramon did whatever the captain said.

The sun had already set when Ramon set off alone. He passed the palace gates and went down the hill to the capital city of Ipsal. The noise of conversations, arguments, and of carts being hauled over cobbles hit him immediately. Then there was the smell of a hundred dinners being cooked nearby, smoke from the chimneys, and the unavoidable reek that arose whenever thousands of people were housed in close quarters with a rudimentary sewage disposal system. Ramon walked all the way down to the market square, which sat at the bottom of the hill, hugging the coast. The markets on Ipsal’s shoreline offered a fine array of foreign wine. There were bottles of honey ale sold there too, which came from Karkarus, but Ramon ignored those. Instead he purchased two bottles of his favourite Marrican red. He then set off along the coastal path that skirted the edge of Ipsal. Here the smell was more bearable, diluted by the sea breeze.

Usually the coastal path was quiet and peaceful, but tonight there was a considerable number of people around, far more than what Ramon had expected for such a chilly evening. The people were all headed in the same direction.

Excuse me, sir, said Ramon, please tell me what all this excitement is about?

The man took one look at the royal sigil emblazoned on the front of Ramon’s tunic and said, Dunno. Find out yourself if you’re so clever, queensman.

I fail to understand how you can make a judgement on my intelligence—

The man had already walked away.

Ramon quizzed another three people, but each reacted with the same disdain. In the end he had no choice but to allow himself to be swept along with the crowd, carried away from the invigorating shoreline and back into the heady swamp of the city.

People were streaming out of their tiny, slanted houses. Even the taverns were emptying, and this usually only happened in the event of fire. There were children and adults, and the eldest generation too, all excitedly chatting among themselves, pushing forward, eager to reach their destination.

Their destination turned out to be the fountain of the Mothers in Temple Square. Water gushed out from each of the Mothers’ mouths—a feature Ramon thought was quite hilarious—and a fat stone rim encircled the pool. Usually there were gulls plodding along the rim, or people slumped against it, but tonight there was someone else there, standing on the rim, standing taller than everyone else around her.

She was unmistakeable: shaven head, ebony skin, dominating physique, dazzling armour of gold and bronze, a five-dragon sigil shining on her chest plate. The Gold Warrior.

Ramon rolled his eyes. He might have known. Who else could whip the common folk into such a frenzy?

Dragon Warrior, Dragon Warrior! the people cried.

The Gold Warrior took the time to greet everyone, kissing babies, kissing men, kissing women on the cheek. She shook their hands, not caring how dirty they were, and smiled the whole time. The Gold Warrior had such a bewitching smile—Ramon couldn’t deny that.

He stood with his arms folded, watching from a distance. It really was quite the performance. The Gold Warrior made the people believe she loved them as much as they loved her. There were no dragons in Karkarus, and therefore no Dragon Warriors, but Ramon had always known about them, the legendary Jerran heroes who protected the realm. But the Dragon Warriors stuck to the southern wilds of Jerran. Never, in Ramon’s service, had one of them ventured north to the capital.

So what was the Gold Warrior doing here now?

—CHAPTER THREE—

The Gold Warrior

––––––––

Did you hear? Skye Swift is in Ipsal.

Ramon and the captain were alone in her quarters, sharing a pot of tea.

The rumour is she seeks an audience with Her Majesty, said the captain.

And what could a Hero of the Realm possibly want from our beloved queen? said Ramon. Help killing dragons?

Don’t mention that again, the captain said gruffly. Estrella’s always going on about killing a dragon. I’m waiting for the call when she finally demands we bring one for her to decapitate. She says a dragon’s head would look good in the throne room.

"So why is the Gold Warrior frequenting our neck of the woods?"

No clue, the captain said darkly. But my gut says nothing good will come of it.

We need to find a soothsayer for this sort of thing.

Mothers, no! the captain cried. Imagine—some crone tells Estrella that she sees imminent disaster for Jerran at the bottom of her teacup and before we know it we’re at war with the next thing that moves.

I believe soothsayers use stones, not tealeaves, but then I might be mistaken—

"Ramon, pay attention to me, son. Estrella’s a fool but she’s a dangerous fool. We laugh behind the queen’s back but how quickly those smiles can be wiped from our faces. Do not put dangerous ideas in Estrella’s head. She must be controlled; she cannot be trusted."

And this is why Karkarus is a republic, said Ramon.

They both paused for a moment, for it was the first time either of them could remember when Ramon had actually uttered the name of his homeland.

Well, said Captain Maccrae, monarchs, presidents, chiefs, prime ministers—they’re all as dangerous as each other. At least we know where the next leader’s coming from.

"If Estrella finds a husband, Ramon said. And to do that we’ll need to locate a man so desperate for power he’ll do anything."

Oh don’t worry, the captain said, I know plenty of those.

***

News of the Gold Warrior’s unexpected visit to Ipsal circulated the palace like a bad smell. The unspoken understanding among the court was the less said, the better. Whenever someone mentioned the Gold Warrior’s presence, another person—usually within foot-stomping distance—casually reminded them to keep their damn mouths shut. The palace had ears, people said, and it also had windowless dungeons with chains and hot pokers.

As it was always dangerous to go near the queen whenever talk of the Dragon Warriors was afoot, Lynette Allard fully braced herself before entering the queen’s sun room.

Here is the order of business for tomorrow, Your Majesty, said Lynette, handing over a long piece of paper.

Estrella groaned. I’m tired, councillor. I’m so very tired—

There was a knock at the door and Councillor Friggate entered the room. He was shaking and several beads of sweat were running down his bald head.

Ah! the queen cried, tossing aside tomorrow’s order of business. I’ve been looking forward to this all day. What does it say then? Tell me everything.

Councillor Allard, perhaps you’ve heard? Councillor Friggate looked desperately at Lynette, but she had no idea what was going on. Councillor Friggate wiped his forehead. Her Majesty requested a—

A poll! Estrella said happily, not quite reading the room. It’s where we ask the public what they think about things. Very modern, not sure if I want to know everything they think, but then I had a rather good idea.

It’s called an opinion poll, Councillor Friggate said shakily. After the hullaballoo caused by the visit of Ms Skye Swift, Her Majesty thought it would be wise to ask—

I want to know how much my people adore me, the queen finished.

And with those words, Lynette understood completely.

Go on then, the queen said impatiently, read it out.

Councillor Friggate, who had never been taught to lie, improvise, or even use the basic tools of imagination, said, It’s uh, it’s complicated, Your Majesty—

Perhaps Her Majesty should only hear the summary, Lynette intervened. A succinct sentence, perhaps? Something along the lines of ‘Her Majesty is most loved by all the people of Jerran’?

Councillor Friggate gaped at her. His wide eyes wobbled back and forth. He looked very much like a man experiencing a mental malfunction.

His hesitation proved to be his downfall. Before either councillor could stop her, the queen snatched the paper in Friggate’s hand and read it for herself. All the colour left Councillor Friggate’s face. Lynette edged away as the queen’s eyes shot back and forth across the document.

The queen snapped her head up and looked straight at Lynette.

You! she screamed, and tossed a teacup at Lynette’s head.

Lynette ducked in time. The teacup shattered on the wall behind her.

Your Majesty! Lynette cried. What is wrong?

"I’ll tell you what is wrong! The people don’t love me! They don’t even like me! Estrella picked up her voluminous skirts and bore down on Lynette, which was quite a feat given Lynette was six inches taller. You know who they do love, councillor, hmm? They love the Dragon Warriors."

I am sure they love you too—

No, they don’t! It says so right here! The queen jabbed her finger to the paper so hard it punched through to the other side. They love your brother and his idiot friends!

The Warriors serve a purpose, Your Majesty. The common people often adore the wrong kind of person. They are not terribly bright.

I don’t care! Estrella raged. This is all your fault!

Tristan and I are not close, Lynette said desperately. We haven’t spoken in years—

But Estrella had already grabbed the saucer to match the now-expired teacup. She pulled back her arm—

Lynette ran for the door.

Get out! the queen screamed. The saucer crashed against the door in the spot where Lynette’s head had previously occupied.

And then the queen burst into tears.

Councillor Mei, who’d been eavesdropping outside, was quick to pounce on Lynette.

I told you so.

Shut up, snapped Lynette.

I know you communicate with him, sending letters to that freakish place. If Her Majesty finds out—

Lynette pinned Councillor Mei against the wall. "Listen to me, remove your pug nose from my business or—"

"Or what?"

Or I’ll ... I’ll make you regret it.

Mei snorted. You don’t scare me, councillor.

Lynette stomped away, nerves rattling. When she entered her rooms she poured herself a glass of wine. She intended to seek out Ramon—he could always lift her spirits—but then she spotted the handwritten note that had been left on her table.

She didn’t need to open it to know who it was from. The note was short. It simply said: Midnight at the blacksmiths.

Lynette read the note a dozen times. She spent the evening fretting, to-ing and fro-ing between decisions, settling on one only to immediately regret her choice and switch back to the alternative. Lynette desperately wanted to go, but what if Councillor Mei caught her sneaking out of the palace? Lynette couldn’t think of a valid reason for entering the city late at night. Did Mei have spies in the palace, intent on proving that Lynette was in contact with her Dragon Warrior brother? If the queen knew, she’d explode.

But in the end, the temptation was too great. Lynette wore a dark travelling cloak and flipped the hood up over her head. She took a convoluted path through the palace, checking behind her at every turn. Was that soldier in Mei’s service, or that serving boy?

The guards at the gates asked no questions—Lynette was a high-ranking councillor from a powerful, well-known family—but she wondered, as she hastened down the hill, if any of them would knock on Councillor Mei’s door at the end of their shift and whisper in her ear.

Lynette scolded herself