To Love the Dragon King
Dragons of Ivria, Book 1
Cover by Natasha Snow Designs
August 21, 2023 (Self-published)
Once upon a time, before the hunts, dragons were plentiful in the world. Now they exist only in legend…except in the land of Ivria.
Without the Dragon Talent, Sascha has long been told his only value is his ability to make the best match possible, whether as concubine or husband. He has always done what his family expects of him, cultivating grace and beauty, and when his parents make a match for him, Sascha goes without protest. He never anticipates being contractually bound to a cruel man embroiled in a plot to overthrow the king of Ivria. Or being confronted by the king himself, a man with whom Sascha is disturbed to find himself fascinated.
With help from the few people he can trust absolutely, King Lysander is working carefully to uncover the members of a conspiracy to overthrow him and expose the existence of dragons to the world. Apprehending one traitor only complicates the situation further, not the least of which because of the man’s beautiful, intriguing concubine. Who may be involved in the plot and whom Lysander is immediately attracted to.
As danger looms, Sascha and Lysander grow closer, but can Lysander trust Sascha with his life and heart? And can Sascha be strong enough to love the dragon king?
Dragons of Ivria, Book 1
Cover by Natasha Snow Designs
August 21, 2023 (Self-published)
Once upon a time, before the hunts, dragons were plentiful in the world. Now they exist only in legend…except in the land of Ivria.
Without the Dragon Talent, Sascha has long been told his only value is his ability to make the best match possible, whether as concubine or husband. He has always done what his family expects of him, cultivating grace and beauty, and when his parents make a match for him, Sascha goes without protest. He never anticipates being contractually bound to a cruel man embroiled in a plot to overthrow the king of Ivria. Or being confronted by the king himself, a man with whom Sascha is disturbed to find himself fascinated.
With help from the few people he can trust absolutely, King Lysander is working carefully to uncover the members of a conspiracy to overthrow him and expose the existence of dragons to the world. Apprehending one traitor only complicates the situation further, not the least of which because of the man’s beautiful, intriguing concubine. Who may be involved in the plot and whom Lysander is immediately attracted to.
As danger looms, Sascha and Lysander grow closer, but can Lysander trust Sascha with his life and heart? And can Sascha be strong enough to love the dragon king?
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The Ripped Bodice (paperback only)
Buy To Love the Dragon King:
Amazon
Apple
Barnes & Noble
Kobo
Smashwords
Bookshop.org (paperback only)
The Ripped Bodice (paperback only)
Excerpt
Chapter One
The high gray stone walls of Castle Grau were bleak against the slate-colored clouds blanketing the sky. Sascha shivered and huddled deeper into his fur-trimmed cloak, despite knowing the reaction hadn’t been entirely—or even mostly—caused by the raw chill in the air. His first sight of the place he would live for the next several years made him wish to be anywhere else.
But he couldn’t stop staring out the carriage window as they approached the building. He schooled his features carefully into the serene mask he’d practiced for long hours until he could hold onto it even if everything inside him quaked, as it did now. Deliberately forced his breathing to even out. Best to prepare himself when he was alone, Lord Jannik’s man of business having chosen to ride up with the driver the whole journey from Sascha’s family home where the man had retrieved him and turned over the contractual payment to his parents. It had made for a long and lonely trip—all day yesterday and overnight in the carriage—but Sascha wouldn’t have chosen the company of the other man anyway.
He wouldn’t have chosen any of the circumstances for this journey, and the manner in which it was being made—not to mention the sight of its endpoint—was not helping Sascha hold on to any hope that this portion of his life would be good. And hope was something he’d determinedly clung to since his parents had told him of the contract they’d signed, making him Lord Jannik’s concubine.
The carriage rattled over the cobblestones of the road leading to the castle’s imposing front doors and slowed to a stop behind a second carriage. There was a flurry of activity around it, as servants loaded and secured baggage. Was Lord Jannik leaving with Sascha arriving today?
The door beside him was pulled open abruptly. The stern-faced man of business—what was his name?—stood there, looking particular dour.
“We’re here.” He didn’t offer assistance or wait for Sascha to climb out before walking away. Concubines were supposed to have status and respect on par with that of spouses—both traditionally and contractually. Sascha hadn’t been treated that way so far.
He took a long, slow breath, searching for calm despite the sick roiling in his stomach. Then, gathering his cloak and his dignity around him, he stepped down from the carriage. Another couple of servants were coming for his trunk, and he thanked them, receiving nods in return. Moving away from the carriage, he surveyed his surroundings. The castle looked no less forbidding up close, but perhaps the place would be more pleasant in spring. Late winter meant bare trees and no flowers or color anywhere. Even the snow—something Sascha usually saw the beauty in—didn’t help.
A young woman about Sascha’s age hurried through the castle doors. Her hair shone gold in the weak sunlight before she flipped the hood of her green cloak up to cover it. She was halfway to the carriages before she stopped abruptly, her gaze landing on Sascha. Her rosebud lips turned down in a brief frown. When she moved again, it was in his direction.
He straightened his spine against the fine tremors moving through him and waited, watching her approach.
She flicked her gaze over him briefly once she stopped in front of him. “So you’re my father’s new concubine?”
“If your father is Lord Jannik, then yes. I’m Sascha of Clan Sapfir.”
If anything, she looked more troubled. “I can’t say you’ll like it here and mean it. I’m grateful my marriage is getting me away, and I have no idea what it will be like. I can only wish you good luck.”
Sascha blinked at her, shock robbing him of words.
“Lady Triana.” The stern voice had them both looking toward the man of business. “It’s time for you to go.”
Triana nodded regally, but she turned back to Sascha instead of moving toward her waiting carriage. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “My father’s man of business is horrible, but the housekeeper and the maids and kitchen staff are all kind and helpful. Take care of yourself.”
He took the hand she held out to him, let her squeeze his nerveless fingers. “Thank you. You take care of yourself as well.”
With a brisk nod to him, she moved away, sailing past the glowering man of business—Sascha had been told his name, hadn’t he?—to the carriage where a footman assisted her inside. The driver got the horses moving immediately, and Triana was on her way to an uncertain future…but one she’d rather confront than the past she’d left here. What was Sascha walking into?
“You need to go inside.” The man’s clipped tone drew Sascha’s attention once more. “You don’t want to keep Lord Jannik waiting.”
Sascha raised his chin a fraction in an effort to appear calm and dignified. “Of course.”
Heart beating wildly, he concentrated on his breathing, on taking measured, graceful steps across the stones and through the open door. His heels clacked loudly on the marble floor, the sound echoing in the large entry hall. He almost flinched at the noise, but servants still hurried around in the wake of his arrival and the departure of the daughter of the house and the stern-faced man had followed him inside—Sascha refused to show such weakness in front of them.
His resolve didn’t stop him from jumping when a voice bellowed from deeper in the castle. It didn’t stop his hands from trembling when he realized the owner of the bellowing voice was coming closer. And that, from the reaction of the staff, the bellower had to be Lord Jannik. No one had taken Sascha’s cloak, so he clenched his gloved hands together beneath it and strove to regain his tattered self-possession as he was left alone in the center of the hall, the servants scattering, the man of business halting several feet away from him.
Sascha’s first sight of Jannik did not inspire calm—nor did it inspire feelings like desire or infatuation or even interest, and so he let go of any dream of such things he might’ve had. No, the man who strode into the hall inspired nothing but fear. Physically, he wasn’t imposing. His build was average, and he was older than Sascha’s father. Gray streaked his thick blond hair. But an aura of menace surrounded him. His eyes were hard and cold, his lips set in a mean twist. His movements were sharp and authoritative. This man was in complete control of his household, of his affairs, of all he considered his—and his control would not be kind or fair.
Sascha understood Triana’s warning now.
His breathing had sped up and he focused once more on slowing it.
Had his parents known what they were sending—selling—Sascha into? They couldn’t have. No matter how attractive the contact and connection to a prominent family, they wouldn’t have gone through with it if they’d had any idea of the man they were giving him to. Sascha knew well his role in the family—like that of his sisters—was to make the most advantageous match possible, whether as spouse or concubine, and he’d accepted it long ago. But did the match have to be this one?
Lord Jannik stopped in front of Sascha and scrutinized him head to toe from his position a half a head taller. Sascha had never been so glad for the enveloping cover of his cloak as that gaze slithered over him.
“Well,” Lord Jannik said finally, “your face is as exquisite as they told me. Let’s hope the rest of you is as well.”
Sascha’s lips parted, but his mind was blank. He could think of nothing to say in response to that greeting.
Lord Jannik didn’t seem to expect a reply. He turned to his man of business. “Hannes, I need to see you in my study for a few moments.” He directed his next words and his hard gaze back to Sascha. “While I’m in my meeting, you will go upstairs and bathe. No need to dress after. I want a good look at you, and as long as you please me, more than that.”
Sascha still couldn’t seem to conjure a reply, but he gasped when Lord Jannik reached out and gripped his chin firmly.
“Don’t think to keep me waiting, little Sascha. You’re mine now to do with as I will, and you won’t like the consequences if you disobey.” He pressed a hard kiss to Sascha’s closed lips, then released him as abruptly as he’d grabbed him. “A maid will show you up.”
He turned and strode away. Hannes followed on his heels, not sparing a look for Sascha.
Sascha stood for a moment and trembled, his cheeks burning fiery hot. Waves of alternating fear and dread and embarrassment crashed through him, leaving him hot then cold in succession. He was just supposed to go upstairs and… And Lord Jannik had seen fit to order him to his bed in front of his man of business and several servants, and now all of them knew…
And Sascha was just supposed to go whether he wanted to or not, and let Lord Jannik do as he pleased with him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. A concubine was supposed to be treated with respect, and the legal standing they deserved. He wasn’t supposed to be ordered about and threatened. He wasn’t supposed to be a possession.
Apparently, none of that mattered in Lord Jannik’s domain.
Inside his head, he was screaming, wailing questions about what his parents knew. Surely they would’ve looked into anyone making an offer for one of them? Surely they would’ve cared? What could they have gotten out of this arrangement that was important enough to put Sascha through this? It couldn’t have only been the money, could it? What did Lord Jannik have to offer that was so important?
“Sir?”
The quiet voice startled Sascha so much he jumped again, but he didn’t have the capacity for more embarrassment. His vision refused to focus, spinning and twisting and blurring, but, as best he could, he brought his attention to the young maid in front of him.
She bobbed a quick curtsy when she had his attention. “Your things are being brought to your bedchamber. I can show you upstairs if you’re ready, sir?”
Unspoken was that he’d better be, and her eyes were filled with so much sympathy Sascha wanted to weep.
“Yes, thank you.” He didn’t manage a smile for her—couldn’t—but he refused to be anything but polite to the staff, especially when they were being kind to him.
She turned and made for the sweeping stone staircase at the other end of the room, and Sascha forced himself to move, to follow. He fisted his hands in the folds of his cloak to stop their shaking and willed himself to steadiness as he slowly climbed the stairs behind her. Something pushed him to move faster, cold dread of what could happen if he wasn’t exactly where Lord Jannik wanted him when he arrived, but if he moved any faster in his state, he’d tumble down the stairs.
He needed to pull himself together. He was stronger than this.
Wasn’t he?
As he took the last step to the landing halfway up, he stopped abruptly and frowned. “Do you hear that?”
“Sir?” The maid stopped and turned back to face him. Worry and impatience lurked in her eyes, but instead of saying anything, she frowned too.
It was wings. The sound of many large wings beating at the air, flying closer. Landing, from the sounds in the courtyard outside. Then shouting.
The doors to the entry hall burst open, and the room was flooded by soldiers wearing the uniform of the king. Someone was shouting orders, more than one someone. Sascha froze for an instant, then grabbed the maid and dragged her down with him. He huddled on the floor with the teary-eyed girl, scared and confused and unable to even speculate as to what was happening now.
The high gray stone walls of Castle Grau were bleak against the slate-colored clouds blanketing the sky. Sascha shivered and huddled deeper into his fur-trimmed cloak, despite knowing the reaction hadn’t been entirely—or even mostly—caused by the raw chill in the air. His first sight of the place he would live for the next several years made him wish to be anywhere else.
But he couldn’t stop staring out the carriage window as they approached the building. He schooled his features carefully into the serene mask he’d practiced for long hours until he could hold onto it even if everything inside him quaked, as it did now. Deliberately forced his breathing to even out. Best to prepare himself when he was alone, Lord Jannik’s man of business having chosen to ride up with the driver the whole journey from Sascha’s family home where the man had retrieved him and turned over the contractual payment to his parents. It had made for a long and lonely trip—all day yesterday and overnight in the carriage—but Sascha wouldn’t have chosen the company of the other man anyway.
He wouldn’t have chosen any of the circumstances for this journey, and the manner in which it was being made—not to mention the sight of its endpoint—was not helping Sascha hold on to any hope that this portion of his life would be good. And hope was something he’d determinedly clung to since his parents had told him of the contract they’d signed, making him Lord Jannik’s concubine.
The carriage rattled over the cobblestones of the road leading to the castle’s imposing front doors and slowed to a stop behind a second carriage. There was a flurry of activity around it, as servants loaded and secured baggage. Was Lord Jannik leaving with Sascha arriving today?
The door beside him was pulled open abruptly. The stern-faced man of business—what was his name?—stood there, looking particular dour.
“We’re here.” He didn’t offer assistance or wait for Sascha to climb out before walking away. Concubines were supposed to have status and respect on par with that of spouses—both traditionally and contractually. Sascha hadn’t been treated that way so far.
He took a long, slow breath, searching for calm despite the sick roiling in his stomach. Then, gathering his cloak and his dignity around him, he stepped down from the carriage. Another couple of servants were coming for his trunk, and he thanked them, receiving nods in return. Moving away from the carriage, he surveyed his surroundings. The castle looked no less forbidding up close, but perhaps the place would be more pleasant in spring. Late winter meant bare trees and no flowers or color anywhere. Even the snow—something Sascha usually saw the beauty in—didn’t help.
A young woman about Sascha’s age hurried through the castle doors. Her hair shone gold in the weak sunlight before she flipped the hood of her green cloak up to cover it. She was halfway to the carriages before she stopped abruptly, her gaze landing on Sascha. Her rosebud lips turned down in a brief frown. When she moved again, it was in his direction.
He straightened his spine against the fine tremors moving through him and waited, watching her approach.
She flicked her gaze over him briefly once she stopped in front of him. “So you’re my father’s new concubine?”
“If your father is Lord Jannik, then yes. I’m Sascha of Clan Sapfir.”
If anything, she looked more troubled. “I can’t say you’ll like it here and mean it. I’m grateful my marriage is getting me away, and I have no idea what it will be like. I can only wish you good luck.”
Sascha blinked at her, shock robbing him of words.
“Lady Triana.” The stern voice had them both looking toward the man of business. “It’s time for you to go.”
Triana nodded regally, but she turned back to Sascha instead of moving toward her waiting carriage. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. “My father’s man of business is horrible, but the housekeeper and the maids and kitchen staff are all kind and helpful. Take care of yourself.”
He took the hand she held out to him, let her squeeze his nerveless fingers. “Thank you. You take care of yourself as well.”
With a brisk nod to him, she moved away, sailing past the glowering man of business—Sascha had been told his name, hadn’t he?—to the carriage where a footman assisted her inside. The driver got the horses moving immediately, and Triana was on her way to an uncertain future…but one she’d rather confront than the past she’d left here. What was Sascha walking into?
“You need to go inside.” The man’s clipped tone drew Sascha’s attention once more. “You don’t want to keep Lord Jannik waiting.”
Sascha raised his chin a fraction in an effort to appear calm and dignified. “Of course.”
Heart beating wildly, he concentrated on his breathing, on taking measured, graceful steps across the stones and through the open door. His heels clacked loudly on the marble floor, the sound echoing in the large entry hall. He almost flinched at the noise, but servants still hurried around in the wake of his arrival and the departure of the daughter of the house and the stern-faced man had followed him inside—Sascha refused to show such weakness in front of them.
His resolve didn’t stop him from jumping when a voice bellowed from deeper in the castle. It didn’t stop his hands from trembling when he realized the owner of the bellowing voice was coming closer. And that, from the reaction of the staff, the bellower had to be Lord Jannik. No one had taken Sascha’s cloak, so he clenched his gloved hands together beneath it and strove to regain his tattered self-possession as he was left alone in the center of the hall, the servants scattering, the man of business halting several feet away from him.
Sascha’s first sight of Jannik did not inspire calm—nor did it inspire feelings like desire or infatuation or even interest, and so he let go of any dream of such things he might’ve had. No, the man who strode into the hall inspired nothing but fear. Physically, he wasn’t imposing. His build was average, and he was older than Sascha’s father. Gray streaked his thick blond hair. But an aura of menace surrounded him. His eyes were hard and cold, his lips set in a mean twist. His movements were sharp and authoritative. This man was in complete control of his household, of his affairs, of all he considered his—and his control would not be kind or fair.
Sascha understood Triana’s warning now.
His breathing had sped up and he focused once more on slowing it.
Had his parents known what they were sending—selling—Sascha into? They couldn’t have. No matter how attractive the contact and connection to a prominent family, they wouldn’t have gone through with it if they’d had any idea of the man they were giving him to. Sascha knew well his role in the family—like that of his sisters—was to make the most advantageous match possible, whether as spouse or concubine, and he’d accepted it long ago. But did the match have to be this one?
Lord Jannik stopped in front of Sascha and scrutinized him head to toe from his position a half a head taller. Sascha had never been so glad for the enveloping cover of his cloak as that gaze slithered over him.
“Well,” Lord Jannik said finally, “your face is as exquisite as they told me. Let’s hope the rest of you is as well.”
Sascha’s lips parted, but his mind was blank. He could think of nothing to say in response to that greeting.
Lord Jannik didn’t seem to expect a reply. He turned to his man of business. “Hannes, I need to see you in my study for a few moments.” He directed his next words and his hard gaze back to Sascha. “While I’m in my meeting, you will go upstairs and bathe. No need to dress after. I want a good look at you, and as long as you please me, more than that.”
Sascha still couldn’t seem to conjure a reply, but he gasped when Lord Jannik reached out and gripped his chin firmly.
“Don’t think to keep me waiting, little Sascha. You’re mine now to do with as I will, and you won’t like the consequences if you disobey.” He pressed a hard kiss to Sascha’s closed lips, then released him as abruptly as he’d grabbed him. “A maid will show you up.”
He turned and strode away. Hannes followed on his heels, not sparing a look for Sascha.
Sascha stood for a moment and trembled, his cheeks burning fiery hot. Waves of alternating fear and dread and embarrassment crashed through him, leaving him hot then cold in succession. He was just supposed to go upstairs and… And Lord Jannik had seen fit to order him to his bed in front of his man of business and several servants, and now all of them knew…
And Sascha was just supposed to go whether he wanted to or not, and let Lord Jannik do as he pleased with him. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. A concubine was supposed to be treated with respect, and the legal standing they deserved. He wasn’t supposed to be ordered about and threatened. He wasn’t supposed to be a possession.
Apparently, none of that mattered in Lord Jannik’s domain.
Inside his head, he was screaming, wailing questions about what his parents knew. Surely they would’ve looked into anyone making an offer for one of them? Surely they would’ve cared? What could they have gotten out of this arrangement that was important enough to put Sascha through this? It couldn’t have only been the money, could it? What did Lord Jannik have to offer that was so important?
“Sir?”
The quiet voice startled Sascha so much he jumped again, but he didn’t have the capacity for more embarrassment. His vision refused to focus, spinning and twisting and blurring, but, as best he could, he brought his attention to the young maid in front of him.
She bobbed a quick curtsy when she had his attention. “Your things are being brought to your bedchamber. I can show you upstairs if you’re ready, sir?”
Unspoken was that he’d better be, and her eyes were filled with so much sympathy Sascha wanted to weep.
“Yes, thank you.” He didn’t manage a smile for her—couldn’t—but he refused to be anything but polite to the staff, especially when they were being kind to him.
She turned and made for the sweeping stone staircase at the other end of the room, and Sascha forced himself to move, to follow. He fisted his hands in the folds of his cloak to stop their shaking and willed himself to steadiness as he slowly climbed the stairs behind her. Something pushed him to move faster, cold dread of what could happen if he wasn’t exactly where Lord Jannik wanted him when he arrived, but if he moved any faster in his state, he’d tumble down the stairs.
He needed to pull himself together. He was stronger than this.
Wasn’t he?
As he took the last step to the landing halfway up, he stopped abruptly and frowned. “Do you hear that?”
“Sir?” The maid stopped and turned back to face him. Worry and impatience lurked in her eyes, but instead of saying anything, she frowned too.
It was wings. The sound of many large wings beating at the air, flying closer. Landing, from the sounds in the courtyard outside. Then shouting.
The doors to the entry hall burst open, and the room was flooded by soldiers wearing the uniform of the king. Someone was shouting orders, more than one someone. Sascha froze for an instant, then grabbed the maid and dragged her down with him. He huddled on the floor with the teary-eyed girl, scared and confused and unable to even speculate as to what was happening now.