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  Daggerless

  Book Five of The Common Kingdoms Series

  Drae Box

  First published in Great Britain in 2019 by Rodaki Entertainment.

  Copyright 2019 by Drae Box.

  All rights reserved.

  All characters, events and locations in this publication are fictional. Any resemblance to living or dead people, real places or events, is purely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed upon the subsequent buyer.

  Contents

  Also by Drae Box

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  What’s Next?

  Please review this book!

  Become a Beta-Reader!

  About the Author

  Also by Drae Box

  The Common Kingdoms Series

  The Royal Gift

  Threat

  Shotput of Power

  Broken Crown

  Daggerless

  Become an beta-reader and get some of Drae’s future releases for free (when ready).

  Releases expected in 2020 include:

  Forged in Magic

  Scarab’s Ink (working title)

  Dax the Dragon Master

  To become a beta-reader, head to draebox.com/tckreaders

  Chapter One

  Raneth

  There was only one person that could be knocking at his bedroom door. Acting Regent Raneth Bayre refocused from the papers on his bed and looked to the door. They were the only two in the palace, other than a cat. Had been for the past two weeks. She knocked again, a little louder this time.

  “Just a sec,” he said, grabbing at the reports he’d been reviewing. He dumped them in an unordered pile at the bottom of his bed before he slipped free of the covers and padded to the door. He opened it.

  “I can’t do this anymore,” said Aldora Leoma as she looked up at him.

  He swallowed. Her eyes glistened in the corridor gaslights, the brown of her eyes almost entirely swallowed by her pupils. He glanced at her lips. Smooth, plump lips that shone in the lights.

  “I just can’t,” she added, squeezing past him and into his room. The heat from her shoulder soaked into Raneth’s chest as she brushed against him.

  He swallowed again, turned, and shut the door with his foot. “Do what?”

  She stopped at the corner of his bed, a hand sliding through the chilled air of his room to toy with one of the report pages. She turned. “Keep giving you space. I’m your girlfriend. You said you understood why I did what I did.”

  Raneth turned to the chest of drawers by the door and grabbed a pair of brown civilian trousers. He shoved a foot into it.

  “Don’t. Don’t do that,” she said.

  He froze and turned his gaze to Aldora. “Do what?”

  “Cover up around me. I don’t care that you’re only wearing boxers.”

  “I care,” he said, yanking the trousers into place. The carpet whispered as she strode towards him whilst he buttoned up his flies. “And I do understand, Aldora.” Her hand touched his chest which thrummed under her palm. His heart sung for her, and his body yearned to betray his self-control and rest his calloused hands gently upon her. He didn’t. “I told you, when Cray and my father get here in the morning, they might decide we can’t be together, because of what happened. I want to be with you, I swear, but there are expectations for me.”

  She smiled slightly with a dulled glint to her usually bright eyes. “Screw your family’s dumb rules. You’ve never been one to follow them anyway. You should be allowed to be happy. Not just do what everyone expects of you. You’re a person, not just a Bayre or a soldier. You have feelings and wants too. We’ll just…” She frowned, then shrugged. “We’ll just have a very long engagement, until they change their minds.” She stepped backwards, towards the bed in the centre of his room, and pulled off her top.

  Raneth could barely suck in a breath as Aldora shivered, her top crashing onto the carpet. “Please,” he begged, his voice cracking. He swallowed again, feeling his body’s desire screaming at him to go to her, to run his hands against that smooth skin, to press his lips against the nape of her neck. He wanted her. He wanted her so badly. “Please, stop.”

  Don’t give her hope. Don’t sleep with her. Don’t even kiss her. Better she gets used to not having me, not convincing me with just a kiss, than later when she has to watch me marry someone they think is better suited to me.

  “Come to me, soldier,” she whispered, slipping free of her trousers and climbing onto the bed. She grinned at him. “Come and conquer me.”

  Clearly she had no intention of backing down tonight. And she was winning. His whole body was tense — every one of his muscles strained against him, wanting to join her. “No. It’s not fair on you.”

  “I choose you, Raneth. Just like you chose me.” She tilted her head, her brown hair swishing free, brushing against the paperwork on his bed. “Don’t fight us.”

  “I—”

  She stalked off the bed and prowled back to him, her dainty hands slipping to take hold of his shoulders.

  A twinge of guilt flooded his chest at the cold press of her touch. He had always liked his bedroom cold, but Aldora craved warmth at night. She chose to come in here, he reminded himself.

  “Please, it’s not right,” he managed to utter.

  She inched her lips closer, closer, until the warmth of her tongue scraped against the black bristles along his jaw. She pressed a kiss to his neck and followed his collarbone. Her thumbs drew circles against his skin and made his body sing. His left knee trembled as Aldora stepped even closer and arched her back to press her lips to his mouth. She groaned against his lips and Raneth couldn’t ignore what he wanted any longer. What they wanted.

  He slipped his strong hands around her waist and dipped his head, letting her reach him more easily, and tasted her against his mouth. His body trembled as he restrained himself, as he forced himself to go slow. He felt her smile against his mouth. “What?” he grunted, slipping his mouth to the soft skin behind her ear. Her warm breath tickled his neck as he pressed kiss after kiss against her. “It’s been a while.” He slipped an arm to cup her backside and hoisted her up as he stepped back. He pressed his back against the door, surprised the wood didn’t hiss at the heat radiating from him, heat that was answering Aldora’s desire for him.

  She drew away from his lips and pressed a hand to his cheek, smiling. “I know.”

  He groaned at her look. He hadn’t seen her look at him like that since Newer, si
nce the first time they’d—

  “The bed, Raneth,” she said, her breath ripping free, harsh and fast. “I want you comfortable.”

  He laughed. “Isn’t that supposed to be my concern?” He carried her to the bed and gently lowered her against it. He shoved the paperwork under the bed and climbed onto it as Aldora moved over, finding a spot she liked.

  “I’m the one with more experience,” she said, eyes glistening with her promise for the night, for them. “I can’t help it.”

  He straddled her hips. “Consider me comfortable,” he said, and lowered his chest to hers as she pressed her back to the covers, her hands slipping to his scarred sides. He rested his upper weight against his forearms as he claimed her mouth, her tongue greeting his—

  They froze as the room rumbled and the metal chandelier above the bed chattered as everything trembled. A loud bang crashed in the night’s sky through the open window. Raneth drew back and Aldora lifted her torso up, both looking towards the window. “What in—”

  Raneth stiffened.

  No.

  “Raneth, what is it? What’s wrong?”

  “The Bayre talismans.” He reached for the dragon-shaped talisman at his neck, caught against the longer chain of his royal official identification tags. He squeezed the silver dragon between his forefinger and thumb. “The tug, it’s… It’s fading.” He looked towards the door but he didn’t see it. Didn’t recognise the palace was blocking his view as he frowned. “Dad’s. Dad’s close but he’s.”

  Dying.

  He didn’t want to say it. He’d never wanted to say it. “I have to, I have to help him.”

  He was dimly aware that Aldora was bathed in a steady soft red glow coming from the talisman’s diamond. He grabbed his boots from under the bed and slipped them on, tying the laces on instinct. He felt nothing but the tug; the constant tug that had followed him every day of his life from the Bayre talismans working in unison to let him and Dragon Bayre roughly know where the other was at all times. “He’s close.”

  “Your talisman’s glowing. Are we—”

  “Blinks for me,” said Raneth as he grabbed his weapon belt. A plain sword and six throwing daggers hung on it. That would do. He fastened it around his waist and checked the positioning of each weapon. “Stays constant for Dad. It’s for him. He’s… He’s hurt.” He grabbed his royal official jacket off the chest of drawers by the door and shrugged it on over his bare torso.

  “Do you want—”

  “No time.” It was so weak. He’d never felt the tug weaken so quickly, so deeply. “I’ll come back once I’ve…”

  Aldora nodded, nipping at the inside of her left cheek. “It’s OK. Go.”

  He ran out the room.

  His feet worked without instruction, taking him downstairs, through the kitchen door and to the royal stables behind the palace. He barely registered the way his fingers strapped the saddlery onto his horse, the way he rubbed its neck before he led it outside and mounted the saddle. The Bayre talisman at his neck was still working, the red glow still stable, and the tug still weakening. He could barely catch his breath as he guided the horse into a full gallop, his chest tight and his throat seizing at the thought of his father on the other end of the old magic’s tug. Even now it directed him towards his father. With the lessening strength, Raneth wasn’t sure how far his father was from him. Normally he could sense it fairly accurately, but that was when his father wasn’t badly hurt. When he wasn’t…

  Stop, he begged his mind. Stop thinking that.

  He closed his eyes briefly, the repetitive rock of his horse helping to ground his mind back to his training; he listened to Giften around him. The kingdom was quiet. Silent. It was night. So late it was almost dawn. It made sense everything was quiet — the creatures local to the area were likely asleep.

  Please let me get to him in time.

  His gut churned as he opened his eyes, the thud, thud, thud of his horse’s hooves against Giften’s sweet grass the only noise he could hear as he started to smell…

  What is that?

  He drew his horse to a stop near the edge of Little Wood. The air tasted salty, and a smog of both white and brown slaughtered his view. The sharp jagged edges of something jutted into the night air within the localised smog, and the waft of urine invaded Raneth’s nostrils. His horse shied back, ears flattening against its skull as its nostrils flared.

  Blood.

  Over the waft of pee and salty taste, the royal official could taste copper in the air. His mind tumbled into a black husk as he urged his horse a step forwards and peered into the patchy smog. Realising why he could smell what he did; three carriages. Large carriages, but they weren’t intact anymore. Two of the carriages were upturned, and the one nearest Raneth was shattered. The six horses that had pulled it were in a tangled dead heap with wooden shrapnel protruding from their bodies.

  No. Please no.

  Raneth urged his horse forward another step, frowning, as he tried to get a clearer look. His horse shimmied under him, snorting and rearing its head up and down. It didn’t want to go closer. Raneth urged it again, gently but firmly, his blue eyes upon the middle carriage. The carriage that would, that would—

  At his collarbones, the silver dragon-shaped talisman felt heavy, long enough to drag Raneth’s attention back to it, back to its pull, its familiar presence and the diamond clamped in its jaws.

  It was blinking.

  Raneth swept his blue eyes around him and his horse, taking in the greys of Giften at night, and listened. He was in danger. The talisman didn’t want him to get hurt too. It was trying to warn him. Whatever had happened here... Whatever had happened to the carriages he was catching glimpses of, it meant danger for him too.

  All thoughts tumbled from Raneth’s mind as something smashed into him, wrenching him sideways in the saddle as his horse jerked under him, shrieking, and fell back. Raneth cried out, a hot burst of pain erupting under his shoulder as his back crashed onto the grass with his horse atop his right leg. He sucked in a breath and coughed.

  What?

  His thoughts were jumbled. Disorganised. He couldn’t think straight. The royal official sucked in another breath.

  Breathe. Assess. Protect.

  He clenched his teeth as a burning pain beat with his heart, and Raneth looked. He was bleeding, and the blood was already soaking most of the left of his jacket’s torso. His horse was breathing sharply, and tried to rock itself up onto its hooves, but it whinnied and gave up. It rested its head on the grass and huffed out a pained breath.

  What was that?

  He was hurt, and so was the horse. Worse, the Bayre talisman at his neck was still blinking, still warning him that he was in danger.

  Protect.

  Raneth lifted his torso. His hands reached for his horse as he slipped his left foot free of the stirrup. He shoved against the horse, trying to free his trapped leg, holding back a scream of pain, but the horse was too heavy. He grunted and shoved again, but the horse still wouldn’t move.

  The royal official paused, frowning. He could hear… something. Metal sliding against metal, and it was drawing closer. He lifted his gaze away from the horse, looking towards Little Wood. Two men were strolling closer but were barely visible against the treeline. In their hands were long guns. Rifles or shotguns. Raneth wasn’t sure — he wasn’t too familiar with guns. But they were reloading — both had metal rods shoved down the nose of their guns, packing the gunpowder down, again and again, their eyes focused on Raneth rather than their task.

  They’re going to kill me. That’s what the bang was. They shot me.

  He shoved against the horse again. It complained but Raneth ignored its protest. He looked at the two men again. At least, they looked like they were men — in the dark it was hard to make out their gender for sure, but the grey garb of Eastern Barbaric assassins were easy to identify. They would make killshots when they were finished loading. He was lucky they hadn’t got a clean shot the first time.


  I can’t die. Not now.

  One assassin slipped the metal rod free and lifted the nose of his gun to point at Raneth’s face.

  No. Not like this. I won’t die like this!

  Raneth held his hands palms out towards the assassins. He wasn’t aware he was screaming no. That his body was shaking with rage as white mist erupted from his palms. The mist rushed at the two assassins, and Raneth imagined two sharp icicles slicing into their necks. He felt more than saw as his Common Gift of Ice did as asked and hit its mark on both.

  One of the guns fired as its assassin fell and Raneth hissed, a second burning pain blossoming on his left arm. Grimacing, he pressed a hand to it, watching the fallen assassins, and waited. If they got up...

  I’ll just have to shoot them again.

  He scowled at them, then his shot horse, and shoved against it. His horse’s body was warm, but it wasn’t breathing anymore. Using his free foot, he shoved against its back, feeling the scratch of tears in his eyes as he finally slipped his leg free.

  They were waiting for me. They knew about the Bayre talismans. Knew I’d come.

  His focus still on the two assassins, Raneth slowly climbed to his feet, testing his right leg. It twinged but it didn’t give or seem damaged beyond an oncoming bruise.