Star-Crossed Dragons

By Chris Cannon

Sara Sinclair might be a Blue Dragon ice princess, but she certainly doesn’t act like one. And she definitely doesn’t buy into the Blue Dragon Clan’s crap that says marriage should focus on alliances and power. So Sara’s furious when her Blue parents sign a contract for her to marry an absolute asshat. She has zero interest in being one half of a snobby Blue power couple—especially when she’d rather bite her obnoxious fiancé’s head off and bury it in the garden.

There’s also the small problem of Ian McKenna, a fire-breathing Red Dragon who is everything her fiancé is not.

Of course, dating Ian is forbidden. Getting involved with anyone outside of your Clan is against Directorate law. Ian could be thrown in jail or executed without a trial. But now that she knows what love feels like, how could she ever marry someone else?

Now the only way Ian and Sara can be together is by giving up their dragon way of life. No flying. No magic. No family or friends. And if Sara knows anything, it’s that stories like this never turn out well…

• Language: English
• Publisher: Macmillan Publishers
• Release date: Feb 1, 2021
• ISBN: 9781649371232

Book preview

Table of Contents

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

About the Author

Discover more Entangled Teen books…

Stealing Infinity

The Liar’s Crown

Roaring

Crown of Bones

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Christine Canada. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing

644 Shrewsbury Commons Ave

STE 181

Shrewsbury, PA 17361

[e-mail]

Entangled Teen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC.

Edited by Erin Molta

Cover design by LJ Anderson/Mayhem Cover Creations

Cover photography by kanareva/Deposit Photos

Background image by breakermaximus/Getty Images

ISBN 978-1-64937-123-2

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition February 2021

This book is dedicated to my husband because he listens to me vent when my imaginary friends, aka characters, aren’t doing what I expect them to do and then he brings me coffee.

Chapter One

Sara

Sara sat across the table from her parents in her father’s study and stared at the marriage petition her father had just finished writing. There it was in black and white…her worst nightmare. She was being contracted to marry Ferrin Westgate…the boy who’d been the bane of her existence since she was five.

There has to be someone else. Sara spoke in a calm voice. If she yelled, her parents would refuse to even discuss the matter.

I don’t understand your objection, her mother said. Ferrin’s father is on the Directorate, his family fortune is second only to ours, and he’s a smart, handsome young man.

He’s also obnoxious and arrogant.

Neither of her parents acknowledged her complaint. Maybe it was time to try another tactic. She’d play to their egos. He goes on and on about how important his family is and how powerful his father is when we both know the Sinclair name carries more weight.

Her father puffed out his chest with obvious pride. True, but as a young man he might have a hard time dealing with that fact.

It might help if he’d stop talking about it.

Be that as it may, said her mother. The best approach for you is to smile and nod and then change the subject. Over time you’ll learn how to deal with Ferrin. She glanced at her husband. You’ll have your ups and downs, but eventually you’ll come to an understanding.

Her father pulled what looked like a cross between a ballpoint pen and a needle from his jacket pocket. I’ll need to collect a blood sample to submit for testing.

She wanted to ask how he planned to collect her blood, but she didn’t want to appear weak, so she held her hand out palm up. He put the point of the instrument against the tip of her ring finger and pressed the button. The sharp sting of the needle made her wince.

That’s all there is to it, her father said. If you’ll excuse me, I have Directorate business to attend to.

Her mother offered her a tissue, which she held against her finger to stop the bleeding. Right now, her only hope was that she’d fail the blood test and the Directorate would refuse the contract. At this point she wouldn’t question a negative result. She’d happily move on to the next marital candidate no matter who he was. As long as it wasn’t Ferrin.

Her mother spoke in a quiet voice. I’ve told you before. Marriage is a business contract that produces children. Nothing more. Ferrin might be difficult at times, but your children will be intelligent and attractive. They will carry on our legacy.

Warm moments with her mother were rare. Isn’t there anyone else I could be paired with? Anyone at all?

No. Her mom reached over and touched her on the shoulder. Ferrin will be busy with the Directorate. You’ll be busy raising a family. Once your children are grown, you can take up gardening or join the Women’s League.

She knew her mother was describing her own relationship, which was the standard for Blue Dragon marriages. A standard Sara had desperately hoped to avoid.

Have you finished packing?

Yes, but I should double-check to make sure I have everything. Sara exited the office, taking slow, measured, ladylike steps, because another of her mother’s ridiculous rules was that you should never let anyone know that you are upset. Feelings were meant to be acted out when you were alone, not in public. So she’d pretend she wasn’t panicking about her possible life sentence with Ferrin, and once she was at school, she’d pretend to be happy about her impending marriage contract. The hardest thing to pretend—that she enjoyed Ferrin’s company. She needed to figure out ways to avoid him. On a campus that large, there had to be places she could hide.

In the library at school, Sara was hoping to do just that.

Sara, didn’t you hear me? Ferrin called out.

Of course she’d heard him, which was why she was currently fleeing in the other direction. She ducked down a side hallway, slipped off her shoes, and shoved them into her black leather book bag as she went. That way he wouldn’t hear her footsteps ring out on the marble floor as she raced past the history books toward the stairwell door. According to Directorate law, she’d have to marry Ferrin one day, but that didn’t mean she had to spend every evening with him while they were at school. Just one night without him. That’s all I want. One night that I don’t have to listen to how great his family is or how knowledgeable he is about every subject on the entire planet.

The library was normally her sanctuary, but Ferrin had followed her here. Why couldn’t he take a hint? She reached the door, yanked it open, and then closed it behind her as quietly as she could. She turned to run up the stairs but found her way blocked by a Red male she didn’t know.

Everything all right? he asked.

Sort of. She didn’t have time to get into a discussion at the moment.

He pointed at her bare feet. What are you doing?

Hiding from my intended. And she should not have said that.

Really?

If you met him you’d understand.

Sara? Crap. That was Ferrin’s voice. He was coming toward the door.

The stairwell was devoid of any statues or closets or anything she could hide behind or in. She eyed up the Red male. He had the typical Red Dragon Clan coloring and build: broad-shouldered, auburn hair, pale skin, freckles, and green eyes. Right now he appeared amused.

Ferrin is going to come through that door in thirty seconds, and if I have to spend one more evening pretending to care about how brilliant he is, I will kill someone…probably him.

Sara? Ferrin’s voice was closer.

She was out of options. Hopefully, this Red would take pity on her and play along. If you could just stand there and be large… Sara jumped up on the step behind him and tried to make herself as small as possible.

She heard the door open and pressed herself so close to the Red she could smell his scent. Blues always smelled like cold and snow, which made sense, since their breath weapon was ice. Reds breathed fire. She’d never been this close to one. He smelled like woodsmoke and warmth. It was nice…comforting and safe. It wrapped around her like a warm blanket.

Excuse me, have you seen a Blue female in this stairwell?

Yeah, the Red said, she’s hiding behind me.

Sara pressed her lips together to muffle her protest. Some safety he offered.

You have an odd sense of humor, said Ferrin.

So I’ve been told.

Sara heard Ferrin walk out, followed by the sound of the door closing.

The young man turned around and grinned at her.

You think you’re funny? she asked, sounding far too much like her mother.

Yes, I do. His grin widened. I’m Ian, by the way.

"Well, thank you for letting me hide behind you, Ian, but why did you tell Ferrin I was there?"

I didn’t want to lie. Besides…I knew he wouldn’t believe me. It’s not typical ice princess behavior.

She snorted, which was also not typical Blue behavior. I might be missing some ice princess genes.

I can see that. He hitched his book bag higher on his shoulder. Have a nice night, Sara.

…

Ian

As Ian walked across campus to the Red dorm, he thought about the strange Blue he’d met. She had the same golden skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes as the rest of her Clan, but she definitely didn’t act like them. He’d never heard a Blue laugh in public, much less snort. Most of them acted high-and-mighty and obnoxious…but not this girl. She had more of a spark. She seemed more alive. That would probably make her life with the egotistical Blue male difficult.

His mind drifted to Amelia, the family friend he was contracted to marry. She was two years behind him in school, so she wouldn’t be at the institute until he started his college classes next year.

Weird to think he was almost done with high school. Not like much would change in his life. He’d still live in the same dorm he’d occupied for the past year and a half since he’d come to the Institute for Excellence at sixteen—like every other shape-shifting Dragon. Education at the Institute was mandatory as soon as a Dragon first shifted and came into their powers. The Directorate and the Institute emphasized the danger of venturing out in the human population. From the time every dragon was a toddler they were told horror stories about what humans would do to a dragon if they ever captured one…dissection in a lab or maybe put on display at a zoo. The stories were enough to keep dragons close to home. Still he couldn’t help wondering what it would be like to go someplace else? Someplace far away where Blue Dragons didn’t decide what was best for everyone.

Maybe he wouldn’t mind school as much once Amelia was here. He thought of her as a friend. That’s how his parents had started out…as friends. They were happy. Hopefully, things would work that way with him and Amelia. She’d said he was free to date until she came to school, but so far there hadn’t been anyone he was interested in.

Sara’s face flashed in his mind. For an ice princess, she was hot. Not that he’d ever say that out loud to anyone. Clans might mingle in classrooms… They could be acquaintances or maybe even friends, but never anything more, according to Directorate law.

He shook his head. What was he thinking? Maybe he needed to work out and clear his head. He started jogging, keeping to the edge of the sidewalk so he didn’t bump into any of the other students making their way across campus. The evening air was cool and crisp. When he reached the Red Dragon dorm, he slowed to a walk.

He opened the door and entered the first floor lounge. Ian nodded and said hello to his friends and Clan mates as he made his way across the room. Students were stretched out on couches in groups, studying or talking. Most of the pool tables were in use. Rather than staying down here, he jogged up the steps to his dorm room on the third floor.

When he opened the door, the spicy scent of pizza made his mouth water. Two sausage and mushroom pizzas rested on the table in front of his roommate, Greg. I didn’t want to go to the dining hall, so I grabbed pizza from downstairs.

Works for me. Ian sat and grabbed a slice. The mushrooms felt rubbery when he bit down on them but he knew better than to complain. Part of keeping peace with his roommate was dealing with mushrooms on pizza. He’d drawn the line at pineapple, and this was their compromise.

I see you thinking bad thoughts about my mushrooms, Greg said around a mouthful of pizza.

Something strange happened at the library, Ian said as a way to change the conversation. He told Greg about Sara, leaving out her name.

That’s funny, Greg said. I thought all Blues were happy to be married off according to their bank accounts.

I guess not. After polishing off his pizza, he finished his homework and read for a while before going to bed. As he closed his eyes, he couldn’t help wondering… What would make Sara happy?

The next morning, in the line for breakfast at the dining hall, Ian spotted Sara sitting at one of the Blue Clan tables with a fake smile plastered on her face. She sipped her juice and nodded and then she caught him looking at her. Her smile became real for a moment before she returned her focus to the conversation.

Greg poked him in the back. The bacon is that way.

Ian moved forward and filled his plate with bacon, pancakes, and eggs. He and Greg sat at their normal table in the Red section.

Was that the girl you bumped into last night? Greg asked, gesturing toward Sara’s table.

How’d you know?

I see everything. Blue females never smile at Red males. And you don’t even know who she is.

Sara somebody. Why is he making a big deal out of this?

That’s Sara Sinclair.

It took him a moment to connect the Sinclair name to something significant. Wait a minute. Her dad is the Speaker for the Directorate. Which meant she wasn’t just an ice princess… She was the top tier ice princess of the entire Blue Clan.

Hard to believe she’s not stuck up, Greg said.

Ian shrugged and shoved a piece of bacon into his mouth. We’re not all the same. Maybe they’re not all the same, either.

Right. We’re different because we have options. We can go into the military, run our own businesses, or work for someone else, but Blues play only one role. The same role they’ve played forever. They rule over us and know what’s best for everyone.

Ian laughed at his friend’s sarcastic tone. Maybe Greg had a point. Blues were expected to behave one way while the other Clans had the freedom to choose what they wanted to do. Would you trade your freedom of choice for one of their mansions?

No, but I wouldn’t mind borrowing one of their cars. One of those Porsches or maybe a decked out Humvee.

I’d rather fly. Ian checked his watch. If we eat fast, we can take a couple of laps around campus before class.

Greg shoveled food into his mouth and finished a second after Ian did.

Let’s go. They stood and headed out the front doors of the dining hall and then down the sidewalk toward one of the benches. We can leave our bags here.

Ian focused on the fire burning inside him and willed it to grow. Heat shot through his veins as his muscles grew and shifted, bones extended and snapped into place. He suppressed a growl as power surged through him and his wings unfurled.

Transformation complete, he bent his legs and then pushed off into the sky. Using his powerful wing muscles, he drove himself up into the clear blue. Cool air rushed past his snout and slid along the red scales of his body as he leveled out, allowing himself to glide.

Flying was the best part of life at the Institute. Flying was freedom. Even when the Directorate or the teachers did things that seemed unfair, there was always flying. When he was in dragon form, powering through the air, his human concerns faded away.

Greg flew past him and performed a diving roll. Ian followed his lead, laughing as the world spiraled. When he righted himself, he built some speed and flew straight up toward the clouds where he paused for a second before arching backward, making a 180 degree vertical turn so he was headed straight for the ground. Greg copied his maneuver.

They continued aerial follow-the-leader until students poured out of the dining hall and headed toward the other buildings. Classes were about to start. Ian landed next to the bench where they’d left their bags and shifted into human form. He grabbed his bag and sighed. Any chance we can ditch classes and keep flying?

Greg shifted and shook his head. Nope. Test tomorrow in first hour. She’ll give the notes we need today.

Ian didn’t care about getting the highest grades. He’d noticed people liked you more when they weren’t competing against you for class rankings, and he didn’t give a crap about Proper Decorum.

When it came to lifting weights or fighting in a ring, he’d go all out, but that was different than caring about getting an A instead of a B. Bs were fine. They moved you through to the next class. The one good thing about going to class was that he could see Sara again. Not that he had a thing for her, but she was interesting… So unlike anyone he’d ever met.

Chapter Two

Sara

If Ferrin didn’t stop talking about how he planned to be the youngest member of the Directorate, Sara was going to fake food poisoning just to have a few moments to herself. She could go with the old standard—pretend she had to use the restroom, but she’d used that excuse so often he’d asked if she needed a medic.

Maybe she could steer him to another topic of conversation. I heard we’re going to have a guest speaker in Economics.

Ferrin paused and blinked like he was confused. Who?

I don’t know. One of the newer Directorate members is going to give a presentation on each Clan’s role in the economy.

That’s hardly interesting, Ferrin said. "Once I’m on the Directorate, I’ll make sure presentations are blah, blah, blah…"

Okay. He didn’t say blah blah blah but he might as well have, because he was back to talking at her rather than to her.

She cleared her throat. Maybe we need a communication class that teaches the art of conversation. A class that discusses how it takes two people to have an engaging conversation rather than one person endlessly expounding on what they believe.

Ferrin tilted his head and stared at her. Honestly, if someone hasn’t figured that out by now they probably never will. Now back to what I was saying, before you so rudely interrupted me.

She pressed her lips together and fantasized about smashing her cheese Danish in his face. But that would be a waste of a perfectly good pastry.

When breakfast ended, she should have felt relieved and she might have, if their first class wasn’t Proper Decorum. The class irritated her almost as much as Ferrin did. At least the class would eventually end. How the teacher, Mrs. Silvertrap, managed to talk about manners and place settings and appropriate social behavior for an hour every day was mind-boggling.

Sara had never understood the reason behind all the fake niceties. If you didn’t enjoy someone’s company why should you pretend you did? Odds were, the dislike was mutual. Being civil she understood, but pretending to enjoy certain things was a skill she didn’t possess. The only way to stay awake in class was by playing games. Today she’d count the number of times Mrs. Silvertrap used the word proper. Ten minutes into class she had fifteen tic marks on her paper.

Sara, how many forks are required for a five course dinner? Mrs. Silvertrap asked.

There was probably an appropriate answer but Sara went with the obvious. As many as the caterer supplies?

Students laughed.

That is not an adequate answer, the teacher snapped.

Since I won’t be the one counting out the forks and setting the tables at whatever event I’m planning, I think it should be, Sara shot back.

Mrs. Silvertrap frowned. You might not be setting the tables yourself, but you will be supervising the staff who does. It’s important to know these things to save yourself from social embarrassment.

If an inept caterer used the wrong place settings, Ferrin spoke in a voice that carried through the classroom. Do you believe Blues would dare speak ill of the Westgate who hired them?

Mrs. Silvertrap took a step backward. Of course not.

Okay, maybe Ferrin had his uses after all, and he had stepped up to help her, so she smiled at him. He nodded at her, but he appeared annoyed.

On their way to Elemental Science, he pulled her down a side hall. His expression was completely serious. I interceded on your behalf because I won’t stand by while someone is being rude, but from here on out you need to think about how your actions reflect on the Westgate name.

Excuse me?

The response you gave in class was beneath your station.

Wow. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware I’d been assigned a station that required me to answer stupid questions in a ridiculous class.

Ferrin’s eyes narrowed. You will be a Westgate and you best learn how to act like one.

Oh really. She tried to hold the words inside but the dam of her self-control broke and the words poured out. Should I tell everyone how great I am and brag about my father’s second-rate fortune?

Ferrin’s face colored. His eyes went hard and cold and for a moment he stared at her…just stood there…seeping anger from every pore. Then without a word, he stalked off.

A thrill of victory shot through her body, quickly followed by the realization that she’d broken a cardinal rule. Blues never showed negative emotions in public. Never. They argued using a normal tone of voice, so no one else knew something was wrong. Anyone who’d heard what she’d said in that angry voice definitely knew they weren’t having a pleasant conversation. Holy hell. What have I done? She backed up and slumped against the wall, closing her eyes. She should not have said those things…even if they were true.

Are you okay? A somewhat familiar voice asked.

She opened her eyes and saw the Red from the library. What was his name…Ivan…no, Ian. Yes. Just wishing I had a filter for my mouth.

He chuckled. I heard what you said, and you’re not wrong.

She sucked in a breath and scanned the hallway. Did anyone else hear?

He shook his head. Just me. I was coming back from the restroom.

Thank God. Her parents would be furious if they knew she’d spoken to Ferrin like that.

Ian checked his watch. We should go to class.

She’d rather stay out here and talk to him. Instead they headed to Economics. She took her seat next to Ferrin. He didn’t glance her way. Not the end of the world. She might be better off if he stayed mad for a while. At least he wouldn’t follow her everywhere, demanding all of her time.

There was a strange squiggling sensation in her stomach. It felt like guilt. Ferrin behaved the way he did because it was how he’d been taught to behave. Maybe they could clear the air and come to some sort of understanding. She’d attempt to be more appropriate in class if he curbed his…what…bragging? She couldn’t very well say that.

Today we have a guest speaker, their Economics teacher Mr. Clayton said, as he stood behind his desk. Like they wouldn’t notice the Blue adult male standing next to him. This is Mr. Seaborn. He’s taken time away from his busy schedule to talk to you about how each Clan’s role in our society is vital.

Mr. Seaborn surveyed the class. I’d rather not lecture you, so I’m hoping you’ll raise your hands and contribute to the discussion. Let’s start with some basic questions, because I’m interested in understanding your perception of our society. And there is only one rule I’d like you to follow. You are not allowed to answer questions about your own Clan.

Students shifted in their seats. This felt like some sort of test.

Let’s begin. What role do Green Dragons play?

An Orange female named Helani raised her hand. Mr. Seaborn nodded at her.

Greens are the most analytical, some say the smartest dragons, so they are our teachers and scientists. They are gifted in manipulating Quintessence, so they become medics.

Correct. Using their own life-force to heal another dragon is an amazing skill. It’s important that Greens play this role. Now what about Orange Dragons?

A Black Dragon raised his hand. Due to their sonic waves and their affinity with the earth they’re the farmers and the miners. He paused. Orange Dragons channel their life-force into plants to help them grow, so why can’t they heal dragons like Greens do?

Mr. Seaborn smiled. Quintessence is the essence of life. All dragons have the ability to manipulate it to a certain extent, but each Clan has its specialty. Just another example of why all of our roles are important. Now, what about Black Dragons?

Ian raised his hand. They are the most creative so they are the artists and entertainers.

And Red Dragons?

Ferrin raised his hand. They are the strongest so they make up the militia. They’re also the Clan that runs most of the businesses.

And Blues?

A Green male named Einstein raised his hand. They are the fastest fliers but that doesn’t correlate to their position in society. They are the lawmakers and the elite and they have a strong desire for power and control.

Blues in the class bristled and muttered.

That is an interesting answer, Mr. Seaborn said.

I was going for analytical rather than polite, the Green responded.

Another trait innate to your Clan, Mr. Seaborn said. "I’m sure you ruffled the feathers of some of your fellow students. That is something I am here to discuss today. Blues do control our society. We, and by we I mean the Directorate, maintain power over the Clans to protect them. Everything we do is done to keep dragons safe and to keep our society moving forward."

A Red raised his hand. My uncle’s business was taken over by the Directorate for the good of the Clans. Can you explain that, because I don’t understand why he can’t manage the business he created?

Blues have always been the CEOs of companies. Once businesses grow to a certain size it wouldn’t be right to expect a Red to handle that level of commerce, Mr. Seaborn said.

That was taking condescension to a new level. Sara raised her hand. Why couldn’t a Red hire a Green to teach him how to run the business?

I’m surprised you’d ask that question, Mr. Seaborn said. Since your father is the Speaker for the Directorate.

She sat up straighter. "I would never ask my father that question because it would make him angry. He might think I was questioning how the Directorate operates. This is a class. And you’re here as a guest