To Tame a Rogue (Age of Gold Book 3) Read online

  To Tame a Rogue

  Book Three in the Age of Gold Series

  May Sage

  Contents

  Map

  Prologue

  1. Alpha

  2. King

  3. A Stranger

  4. Unexpected

  5. Bound

  6. Mate

  7. Kin

  8. Ashkar

  9. Truce

  10. Anger

  11. Beta

  12. Hunted

  13. Talk

  14. Insanity

  15. Plus One

  16. Bears

  17. Balance

  Epilogue

  If you enjoy Age of Gold…

  More from May Sage

  To Tame a Rogue

  May Sage © 2018

  ISBN: 978-1-912415-67-0

  Map

  Prologue

  The woman looked behind her shoulder frantically, running as fast as her exhausted legs could carry her. She would have shifted if she could, but the infinitely precious thing in her arms might have been hurt if a dragon had carried it. That wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

  As she turned back to face forward, her foot got entangled in a root, and she fell toward the ground.

  Darayn rolled on her back just in time, protecting the bundle against her chest. But the child was bothered and awoke with a piercing cry.

  "Shush, shush baby girl," she prayed, somewhat desperately.

  The last thing they needed was for their position to be revealed right now.

  Not for the first time, Darayn wished she had magic, or greater powers. Her gift was so very insignificant; there was no hope of her being able to shield the babe for long. She was just a nursemaid, nothing more. A nursemaid entirely devoted to her charge.

  When the deep horns of mourning had resounded in the castle, sounding five times to announce the king's death, she'd known what it meant.

  The king's first wife was giving birth that night; and now, the king—a great dragon of immeasurable power—was dead.

  Murder. There was no doubt about that.

  Next, they'd come for his firstborn.

  And so, she'd taken the girl and run, fast, far, putting as much distance between the court of fire and them as possible.

  If Darayn was wrong and there was no danger, she'd know soon enough. But within hours, the crown's fiercest assassins were on their track. Darayn would not have evaded them this long had she not possessed one blessing. Just the one.

  "That's it, sweetheart. Go to sleep."

  And at the sound of her voice, the heir to the kingdom of fiery shadows plunged into a deep slumber.

  There was sea blood in her family; a siren from the old days, and so her voice was her one weapon. She honed it to secure a ride at the back of a merchant's carriage at first, and then to pass through the Sands. Finally, she'd used it one last time to make a sailor take them to the Lakelands by water.

  But now, she was so very tired, so very weak, and hopeless.

  If she did not reach her destination soon, there would be no hope for the little princess.

  Please, help...

  Darayn knew little of gods and fates and any such things, but when she painfully got to her feet, she noticed that there was a man above her, watching her carefully.

  He was very tall, very broad, and quite handsome, but it was his aura that held her attention.

  No, not a man.

  A dragon.

  He rode a horse and wore fine, colorful silks. His eyes went to her, and then, to the child.

  If one thing could be true about all dragons, weak and strong, great and inconsequential, it was that they cherished little ones. She hoped that same could be said for them. The dragons of Farden.

  Farden and Absolia were enemies; the precarious peace between the two dragon kingdoms would not last, they all knew that. And for that very reason, there was no other place where the firstborn child of King Karash would be safer. No one would think to look for her there. She could grow up, get strong.

  So long as this dragon had a heart.

  “The child. It is in danger,” the male stated, observing her curiously.

  The sound of his voice awoke the little princess, who blinked and looked up at the stranger.

  Darayn nodded. “Yes, my lord.” For there was no doubt that a man thus attired was a lord. “She is…”

  "I know what she is. I can feel it. And I have lived long enough to understand what those eyes mean."

  The girl's eyes weren't amber, or hazel, or any such thing.

  They were fire.

  "Please," said Darayn.

  She didn’t use her power to sway his mind. That never worked for long. He had to feel mercy to his core, or he would betray them eventually.

  The lord dismounted from his great beast and approached slowly. He looked down at the child.

  The princess was very decisive for a babe of her age. She either liked or hated strangers. Darayn prayed that she wouldn’t despise the man on sight, and again the gods answered. The princess cooed and lifted her little chunky hands toward him, begging to be picked up.

  The dragon smiled and extended his arms.

  "I have buried a brother. I shall say that I return with a niece,” said Nathos Xaxan, earl of the Durandan, elder of Farden, advisor to many kings. “Saskia. Yes. The name of my mother suits her well enough."

  Alpha

  Demelza lifted her sword to block the ruthless attack, and grunted when the blade hit so hard that her feet slid back.

  “What’s the matter, princess?” Saskia Xaxan asked with an evil grin. “Need a little break to catch your breath?”

  She did, actually, but her sparring companion’s tone was so full of condescension, Demelza glared.

  “I can do this all day.”

  Damn pride. It was what had caused all this trouble in the first place. Saskia had asked if there was anyone with enough guts to train with her in the mornings, and in the name of her house, her ancestors, her station, she’d had to volunteer.

  Sometimes, Demelza was her own worst enemy. She was all for keeping fit, but no one needed to go quite so hard at the butt crack of dawn.

  There would be no stopping until there was a clear winner. Playing defense would only prolong the agony, so Demelza withdrew her blade, fading back to find her footing, and immediately leaped forward again, attacking with a battle cry.

  Saskia laughed, like she was finally having fun, and riposted. On most days, she and Saskia were evenly matched, but the other female was a morning person, damn her. She evaded Demelza on the left, before anchoring her sword deep in the ground of the outdoor fighting ring and, using its hilt to support herself, kicked Demelza right in the face before she'd had time to pivot.

  Elza could taste blood in her mouth. "That was fucking nasty."

  Saskia winked. "Come on, you must like it, given how you let me kick your ass so often."

  The beast inside Elza growled in warning, making the beautiful, bloodthirsty blonde laughed. "Aww, your dragon has something to say?"

  It was bad form to shift during a duel in human form, but Saskia wasn't one to care for such things. She was amused because she knew that if it became a fight between the two female beasts, she'd annihilate Demelza without breaking a sweat.

  The black dragon was larger than any beast in the land, even Rhey Vasili, their king; but she also distinguished herself by being particularly fast and vicious.

  Better to face the woman, sadistic as she was.

  "Seriously, let's finish this, I need food. Three hits."

  Saskia inclined her head. "Three hits," she repeated in agreement.

  Her smile entirely disa
ppeared as she concentrated. She'd had the better of her this morning but when one was to look at the number of times their swords had respectively found a clear mark, Elza and Saskia were matched.

  They paced in circles, eyeing each other, calculating their first moves.

  "Ladies."

  Their heads snapped in the direction of the intruders. Nathos. Saskia's eyes softened and now her smile was genuine, void of hostility.

  "Uncle," she said, greeting the elder with a bow of her head.

  "Niece. I thought I might find you here. I come to ask a favor of you. I have matters to discuss with Vincent Vasili here, but I was due to see the folks of Durandan in the evening. I have no wish to delay the meeting, for some might have ridden for days to be present. Would you go in my stead?"

  "Of course," she replied. "With the leave of my queen."

  Saskia was part of Xandrie's council, like Demelza. According to their charter, they were not supposed to wander the realm without her permission. The expression was purely rhetorical, however; Xandrie had explicitly stated that they were welcome to go as they would and do as they pleased.

  Elza smirked. "So, Durandan. It's far to the south, is it not? You'd better get going."

  And she'd better get to breakfast.

  "Not so fast, Demelza Thorns. We have a duel to settle."

  "And we'll settle it when you're back. Preferably in the afternoon, when I'm actually awake."

  It wasn't that she didn't enjoy a good fight. She just preferred it past noon.

  "Or," said Saskia, "we could settle it with a race to Durandan."

  Elza stilled. Tempting. She'd seen Saskia's beast in action, but never over the course of a great distance. Demelza's dragon was used to long travels; she'd visited Xandrie on a regular basis, all the way to the High Lands, far beyond the borders of Farden.

  Surely, she could beatSaskia? And besides, she'd never seen Durandan, the lands of Nathos Tiberian. It was east of a Vasili holding, belonging to her cousin; warm beaches and sea breeze.

  "Do you live near the coast?"

  "I'll lend you a swimming costume."

  Dammit. So tempting. "All right. But we're eating first."

  The other woman didn't argue, and in no time they were raiding the kitchens.

  "What's you misses doing here?" Cook demanded to know. "Your ladies will get out of the job if you go about picking up your own food when it suits you, you know."

  Saskia snorted. "I think not," she protested. "I have every intention to never learn how to make a bed, clean a bathroom, or tie a corset. Brenna will always have a job with me."

  "Praise to lazy nobles everywhere," Elza said, holding up a glass of mead.

  Cook, who never needed much of an excuse to join in a toast, poured a glass of her own, saying, "I'll drink to that!"

  They drank the honey drink with Cook and ate in her kitchen, companionably devouring bacon, eggs, and pies in a silence occasionally punctuated with moans of approval. The royal kitchen well deserved its countrywide reputation.

  And then, the two females went to the privy courtyard of the royal keep and shifted.

  Elza had lived long enough to be used to the process, although it had never ceased to be painful. Each of her bones broke and twisted before the humongous red creature burst outside of her skin with a triumphant roar.

  Her beast was fearless and mighty, and also proud, so it shocked Demelza to the bone when she watched inside their skin, as the red dragon bent down her head, tilting it to one side in sign of submission. She was bowing to Saskia. Bowing.

  The black dragoness before her didn't seem playful at all. In fact, for a moment, Elza was a little afraid that Saskia might bite her throat and rip it out. But the creature towering over her only advanced to sniff her. Then, she leaped in the air, extending her endless wings.

  By all gods, she was beautiful. Beautiful, and the length of the entire keep, from one end of her wing to the other.

  Elza's beast blinked and jumped high up to join her. She didn't think she'd ever felt quite so determined to prove her worth. She'd beat her to Durandan, dammit!

  Demelza didn't beat Saskia to Durandan. In fact, not even close.

  She flew faster than she ever had, as if the flogs of hell were right behind her, pushing every single one of her beast's muscles. Meanwhile, Saskia seemed to coast up front, leisurely batting her wings as if she was just taking a stroll through the countryside.

  They passed the mountains of Aul, south of Telenar, and flew past the woodlands, before reaching the seaside.

  Landing on a golden beach, Elza's beast immediately laid down on her back, before rolling over on the warm sand. Meanwhile, the black dragoness, nibbling at her sharp talons, watched her with distaste.

  "You're a disgrace to the name of dragons everywhere," the beast told her, mind to mind.

  "See if I care," Elza's dragon replied, before rushing to the water, burying her head under a wave.

  Not many dragons enjoyed water, particularly this far south of the continent; they were close to the energy walls guarding them from the evils beyond. But Demelza had a dash of siren blood in her veins, courtesy of her grandma Syn. Despite the fire in her belly, water was where she felt most at home.

  When she emerged back to the surface, her beast was startled to find the black dragoness next to her.

  Saskia was watching her curiously. Then something wicked flashed in her eyes, and the next instant, she was using her wings to splash huge waves at her.

  So much for the severe, austere beast! Elza laughed and joined in play, chucking water with her tail and wings.

  Saskia's great head suddenly snapped left and Elza's beast followed the direction of her gaze. In the distance, there was a boat, retreating away from the bay as fast as it could. And no wonder. They might have thought the two dragons were actually fighting. Most boatmen were humans, or at least shifters. No mortals with half a brain would willingly approach warring firebreathers.

  The black dragon walked back to the beach. Elza sighed and followed. Their play had been disruptive enough for a day.

  King

  To his left, a fire pit, and the screams of those who had not yet learned how to take the pain. To his right, the initiated dragonlords training in formation. His army was mighty, unlike any other in the realm. Ash marched forward, ignoring all around him, until he'd reached a man with dark hair and green eyes; the one person he trusted, the soul he was bound to.

  There was a mark in the palm of Ash's hand, and the same one had been engraved on the man's shoulder, long ago, when he'd been but a boy.

  Ash had felt a strange pull to the north over a decade ago. Recognizing it for what it was, he'd immediately shifted and flown to his rider.

  "Damion."

  "Ash."

  "Did you hear?" he asked, his voice tight.

  The man lifted his eyes from the sword he was spelling and sighed. "Tell me this is not about your sister again."

  "It's more than rumors this time. The wolves talk of a black dragon the size of mountains. A beast so mighty they dared not land when they saw her on the coast. She may be alive, kept by the weaklings to the east."

  Damion set the sword aside altogether and got up on his feet. "For as long as I've been here, there always was, and always will be, talk of your sister. Rumors of a sighting, someone who offers to sell information. But it has been a hundred years since a baby was taken from you. If she was alive, she'd be an adult right now. She would have found her way back here."

  These words were highly logical, and Ash had heard them a hundred, nay, a thousand times at least, from various advisors over the course of his many years. Ash knew that Damion wasn't simply attempting to appease him for his own gain; he didn't have any political design, any reason to want the king's attention on other matters. He believed them.

  Some ten years it had been since they'd met. Ash had heard a call of distress deep in his heart, the kind of summons that could only have come from one of two people: the
mate that fate had designed for him, or the soul brother who was destined to ride him.

  Ash knew everything about the Riders. In Farden, such knowledge was prohibited, because the weak dragons to the west were frightened of what they could do once they found their kin. In Absolia, tales of mortal dragonlords were whispered to children and later studied in school classrooms.

  Ash hadn't been certain whether he'd find a mate or a rider as he flew north to answer the call to his soul, but he'd hoped for the latter. He was too young to find a mate. He'd welcome it, of course, but at less than a hundred years, it wouldn't have been his priority. A rider, however...

  And so, he'd found Damion. The boy had been in chains, his flesh marked like cattle and his spirit broken.

  It had taken days for him to speak. Months later, Damion had shared his ordeal.

  He was from a small village, hailing from a long family of mages, respected through the lands of the Northern Var. He had three sisters; a twin and two younger ones. Their family was providing spells and cures to all in the region, great and small.

  There should have been plenty enough to go around, as magics weren't cheap, but his parents' greed and arrogance, as well as his sisters' ignorance, had all but ruined the family by the time he'd turned eighteen. Ash didn't recall the details. One sister wore a lot of dresses, the other one required books and expensive ingredients for studies. The third, Damion didn't speak of.

  And so, one day, his twin had fetched him from the back of the family shop and asked him to speak with their parents downstairs. He washed and went and did as he was told. When he arrived at the front of the shop, Lars and Daria Astria were waiting with a client. A broad, tall, tanned man adorned in fine, gold-stitched, precious-stone-encrusted clothes. A wealthy man from the south, no doubt. Damion hadn't questioned it.