Dragon Stone: Princess Witch, #4

By Katy Haye

A country devastated. A murdered prince. An impossible alliance.

Princess Relle has gained mastery over her shifter magic, and with Lyo's help she's destroyed the unprincipled mages and freed Muirland from their stranglehold on magic.

But the Firethorn Kingdoms are a long way from peace. Muirland and Surran stand on the brink of war. If Relle and Lyo work together they may be able to change the fate of their nations – but can they set aside past hurts and strive towards a united future, or is it too late to avoid destruction?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Plumshine Books
• Release date: May 29, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201251789

Book preview

1 – Kill Them All

I stood on the hillside at the edge of the Muirland capital and watched the city burn.

I’d returned to my old home to bring an end to the mages and their corrupt grip on magic. That ambition had succeeded. But I hadn’t intended the fires, nor the fleeing citizens, nor – although I didn’t mourn him – the death of my father, King Haran of Muirland.

It’s not as bad as it looks, Relle. By my side, Lyo murmured the consoling words.

That’s good. Because it looks pretty bad.

People recover. They rebuild.

I glanced at Lyo. His amber eyes were full of pain as he watched the scene below. I suspected he might not be seeing Muirland City at all. Lyo was Prince Allyo-a-Zalar, Surran prince who had turned rebel against his father. A refugee from his home country, he’d seen more than his share of death and destruction. I wrenched my gaze away. Sympathy was trying to worm into my thoughts and that emotion wasn’t welcome. Lyo and I were allies. That was all we could ever be after he’d betrayed me. I hope so, I murmured in reply.

Wait. Is that Tia? Lyo asked.

I craned my head back, surprised. A dark shape in the sky grew closer. It was a dragon. Aside from myself, there was only one person it could be here in Muirland. Must be. But my fae shifter friend had left us to return to the mountains. Fear shivered down my spine. It couldn’t be a good sign that she’d returned so quickly.

Tia landed, shifting back to human almost before her feet touched the ground. The army’s on the march. Her tone was breathless with urgency.

My heart froze. My father had sworn to destroy the fae. It looked as though we hadn’t been in time to prevent that. Are they heading for the mountains?

Not the Muirland army, Tia corrected. Her gaze darted to Lyo. It’s the Surranese army. They’re advancing on Muirland. And they’ve nearly reached the border.

But... I wanted to be sick. The king is dead, and the mages...

He’s invading, Lyo breathed.

No. He can’t be.

His greed is now such that one country can’t appease it.

I swallowed, the sick sensation increasing. But Muirland’s in disarray. My hands clenched as I looked down at the destruction in the city. I wanted to bring an end to the mages, not destroy the kingdom itself. I have to stop the army.

I reached inside for my magic. I was tired, but I had enough energy to shift, I’d make sure of it.

Wait. Tia gripped my arm.

We have to stop Zalar, Lyo stated on my other side. That’s what we planned. Nothing’s changed. He meant the agreement he and I had made: now he’d helped me finish the mages, I would help him destroy King Zalar. This makes matters more urgent, that’s all.

Which made it ridiculous to be standing here. Exactly. We need to leave. Now. I glanced at Lyo. I’ll shift and carry you.

Think, Relle, Lyo urged. One dragon and one man against an army? We can’t go alone.

Tia’s fingers tightened, although her tone was conversational. Do you know what marks the difference between a hero and a fool?

Lyo huffed. The hero did the right thing for all. The fool did what was right only for themselves.

Tia’s lips twisted with amusement. That’s not it at all. Her gaze settled on me.

I stopped struggling. Lyo was right. One dragon against an army would be a suicide mission. I wasn’t a hero, but I didn’t intend to behave like a fool, either. Tell me.

Tia let go of my arm. It’s success. If I’d succeeded in bringing the queen’s egg back to the mountains, the fae would have lauded me as a hero. Because I didn’t, they think me a fool. If you want to stand against King Zalar’s entire army, you will need an army of your own.

We don’t have an army, I moaned. My gaze strayed back to the city we’d helped to desolate. Muirland City was burning in several places. The mages’ tower was a pile of rubble and a significant part of the palace had been destroyed. Tia and I had killed King Haran, leaving the country leaderless. Guilt wrenched at me, heart and soul. We’d brought the city to its knees, weakening the kingdom just as enemies were poised to overrun the nation.

But we could borrow one, Lyo said carefully. My gaze snapped to him. If the Surranese army attacks Muirland, then Muirland should strike back.

Understanding swept through me. I need to speak to Jaran. My brother, the crown prince, had become the king of Muirland in the last few minutes. He might not even be aware of the fact yet. And he couldn’t be aware of the approaching army, not yet. He must mobilise Muirland’s response.

I scooped up a waterskin from where I’d dropped it earlier. It was nearly empty, but there was enough firethorn water to wet my mouth. Energy from the magical firethorn berries coursed through me. I glanced at Lyo. I’ll be as quick as I can. No one tried to hold me back this time. I shifted to a crow and arrowed my wings to race towards what remained of the palace.

My former home was a scene of utter chaos, the disarray of the city replicated in miniature. Guards ran to and fro in the grounds, lit flares in their hands as they tried to shed enough light to drive away the night and understand what was happening. Somewhere, a woman was screaming. I circled the palace to reach my father’s room. It was easy to find, Tia’s claw marks visible on the parts of the walls that were still standing. Most of the external walls had been destroyed, ripped away to force him to face the woman he’d wronged.

My father’s body was a dark shape on the floor, abandoned where he’d fallen. A lump filled my chest as I flew closer. I wasn’t sorry he was dead, exactly. Rather, I was sorry his death had been necessary.

And I was definitely sorry I’d thrown Jaran into a role he wasn’t ready for, and under such circumstances. Hard enough to become king in a time of peace; much harder with enemies on our doorstep.

As I neared the palace, the door to my father’s room burst open, guards pushing through the barricade Tia had put in place to ensure help couldn’t reach him before she had taken her revenge.

They cried out in shock and horror when they caught sight of the king’s body. Some hurried to his side while others spread out to see if there were more threats to be faced. I ducked behind a pile of rubble to keep out of sight. The guards couldn’t know it, but they were quite safe. Tia and I had done what we’d come for. I intended peace now.

Another figure stepped through the doorway, illuminated by the lights in the corridor outside. My brother, Jaran, now king of Muirland.

With two strides, he reached our father’s side, dropping to his knees and calling to a man who was never going to answer. Gently, he turned the body over, crying out when his ruined face came into sight. I landed on the broken wall and watched, unwilling to intrude on my brother’s moment of grief. I twitched my wings, feeling the ghost of my dragon claws which had raked across my father’s skin, splitting his flesh until his blood poured free and the shock of his injuries had taken his life.

Jaran bent over him, smoothing back his hair. Then he jolted up, pinning the guards with his gaze. Fetch a healer. Quickly! He’s still alive.

My claws gripped the rubble, wings flapping to hold me steady. Still alive? I shuddered again in remembrance of his flesh parting beneath my dragon talons. Impossible.

Several of the guards ran out of the room at my brother’s bidding. Jaran hugged his father close, muttering words I couldn’t quite hear; that I didn’t want to hear. It was obvious from his face and his body language that his feelings for our father were utterly different from mine.

My ruthless heart ached. I’d been thinking of nothing but Tia and her revenge, and of the wrongs I’d suffered at my father’s hands. I hadn’t thought of Jaran or my mother at all.

I hopped farther into the wrecked room, within hearing. Stay with me, Jaran murmured. He was using his sleeve to staunch the worst of the bleeding, holding the edges of Father’s wounds together. He mumbled something else and I hopped closer still to hear. It wasn’t Jaran speaking; Father was trying to say something to him. He truly was still alive. Conflicting feelings tore through me, a maelstrom of emotion. I pushed it away, focusing on my crow self to hold on to my purpose. I needed to speak to Jaran. And there was no way I could appear as my real self to my father.

A healer ran into the room, flanked by guards. There were no cries of shock or horror from him, just grim professionalism as he knelt opposite my brother and examined the patient. He despatched two of the guards to fetch a stretcher.

Will – will he live? Jaran’s face was pale, his voice wavering with emotion.

The healer didn’t glance up, intent on his work. I make no promises, but I hope this will not be beyond our ability to heal.

Jaran sat back on his heels with a sigh of relief that made my stomach clench, a slim hand running through his disarrayed hair.

The king mumbled something and the healer renewed his attentions. I cast a look around the room. I needed to get Jaran on his own. I couldn’t shift with an audience.

Guards arrived with a stretcher. The healer and the guards laid Father onto the canvas and the guards lifted him.

My sister’s room is undamaged, Jaran said. The healer led the way with Jaran beside him, the stretcher-bearing guards following. I would have followed, but the guards were close behind, closing the door with a snap behind them.

My old room. I darted to the outside of the building and flew down a floor and to the other end of the building. The windows were closed, so I couldn’t fly into the room the way I’d hoped.

I settled on the ledge, peering inside. The king was lowered onto my bed. Two more healers joined the first. They bathed Father’s wounds and began the work of sewing the damaged flesh together. Jaran stood to one side. My brother’s fists clenched as he watched the healers work. I pecked on the window, hoping to gain Jaran’s attention. If he saw a bird acting strangely, I hoped he might guess it was me.

Nothing. I tapped again. I hadn’t realised there was a guard in the room until one stood forward, shooing at me through the glass. I didn’t need guards, I needed Jaran. Every moment of delay the Surranese army marched closer.

I flew away, circling until the guard moved away, when I landed on the ledge once more. Two of the healers began to bandage the king’s face. The first one who’d attended spoke to Jaran. Jaran turned, giving orders to the guards. One left the room, the other – one of the captains – stood to attention by the door. The healers finished their work and two followed the guard out. The remaining man sat on the other side of the bed. I supposed a healer would stay with him until they thought him out of danger. And the captain was doubtless there to ensure there would be no further danger.

I tapped on the window once more, a tattoo of four pecks, a pause and then four more. Finally, Jaran noticed and came to the window. He glanced through the glass and I looked straight at him, willing him to recognise me. He frowned, then unfastened the latch and pushed up the window. I hopped through the gap. Jaran crouched, peering close. Sis? he whispered cautiously.

I gave a slow, deliberate nod. Jaran sucked in a breath.

Your Highness! the healer called from the bed. Jaran turned. He’s calling for you.

Wait here, he hissed.

I hopped to the side, so I was hidden by the curtains but I could still see what was happening inside the room.

A sound came from the figure on the bed. Jaran leaned close to hear Father’s words. Father gripped Jaran’s neck, forcing him closer. The action was unnecessary. Father’s voice was distorted by the damage to his mouth and the bandages criss-crossing his skin, but it still rang in the room, the venom of his hatred providing enough volume to ensure we all heard his words. It was a fae shifter who did this to me. Send the army to the mountains. Kill them all.

2 – Eager for Blood

Jaran flung open the window into his room. I dived inside, shifting from a crow to my human form while I was still moving, speech bursting from me before I’d fully gained my feet.

You can’t send the army after the fae. It wasn’t their fault.

Father is mistaken? Jaran asked. He stood in the middle of his room, back straight, arms folded while he watched me. He’d suffered a dreadful shock tonight, but you’d barely know it. If Jaran was changed, it was a step in the direction of maturity and leadership. He wasn’t yet the king, but he wasn’t only a prince either, he was truly the heir; a king in waiting.

No, he’s not mistaken, I admitted. But this wasn’t an attack by the fae as a group. He wronged a fae woman. She took revenge.

Jaran’s eyes held mine until I grew uncomfortable and looked away. How do you know this, Relle?

I swallowed. My voice was low, but strong enough for him to hear. Because I was with her.

You were with her? His voice was also low, but not with uncertainty. His tone vibrated with coiled anger. And perhaps with grief. You were there, and you did nothing to stop it?

I straightened. I wasn’t proud of what I’d done, not now I could see the consequences, but I wasn’t ashamed, either. Father should be ashamed of himself, but that sentiment still eluded him. I did more than nothing. I helped her, I told my brother. Jaran took a step back. I smiled bleakly. Can you really blame me for taking my revenge when the opportunity arose? We didn’t show mercy the way Father never showed mercy to any of his prisoners. Or even to his daughter.

But your own father— Jaran’s fists clenched. I held my ground. If he tried to hit me I’d shift out of danger. He caught sight of my expression and relaxed his hands deliberately. My face heated with shame; this was Jaran. He was different from our father. I’m sorry you were so wronged this seemed a suitable revenge, he said. He took a deep breath and I almost saw him push away his emotion. I suppose I should be glad you didn’t kill him.

I kept silent. I didn’t think he’d welcome the news that Father’s continuing life was a matter of pure chance. Enough of explanations; I needed to make Jaran understand what was happening. You mustn’t send the army to the fae because you need to deploy it on the border with Surran. King Zalar is invading.

Jaran’s face was unreadable, any shock at that news masked. Again, how do you know this?

My friend saw them.

Your friend? The fae shifter? I nodded. The one who tried to kill our father?

Yes, her.

And you think she’s telling you the truth? And not, say, trying to cause further mayhem in Muirland beyond that you’ve already caused tonight?

I coloured at his tone, but I held his gaze. Yes, I believe her. Tia might lie to you, but she wouldn’t lie to me.

I need you to be very sure of this, Relle. If you are lying to me, people may die as a result.

It’s the truth. Our own border guards will spot the army and send word soon, but this way we have early warning of King Zalar’s actions. We can strike back before he’s expecting us.

You’re angry with our father. You must be pretty angry with King Zalar, too, Jaran said.

I wanted to shake him. How was that relevant? Yes, but not half as angry as him if he’s prepared to invade just because he’s lost his bride!

Jaran’s