Through A Dragon's Eyes_A Reverse Harem Fantasy Read online

  Through a Dragon’s Eyes: Book 1

  Chronicles of the Four

  Marissa Farrar

  Contents

  Map of Xantearos

  Characters

  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

  Cast of Characters

  Afterword

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by the Author

  License Notes

  Publisher’s Note

  Characters

  For a cast of characters, and the different races and their homelands, you can click on the link found in Table of Content’s

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Dela

  Dela Stonebridge couldn’t take any more of her mother’s tears. Maybe she could have handled it if either of them had gotten any rest, but morning had taken forever to arrive.

  No one slept the night before The Choosing.

  Her fingers automatically went to the ring held on a string of leather at her throat, and she bit down on her irritation. She understood her mother’s sorrow. She’d already lost her son—Dela’s older brother, Ridley—three years ago, and now every six months, on the day of The Choosing, she was terrified she’d lose her remaining daughter, too.

  It was highly unlikely Dela’s name would be called to go on the journey. The population of the capital city of Anthoinia was several thousand, and though those of a higher class were not entered, that still left plenty of others. Her mother or father was as likely to end up traveling through the Southern Pass as she was. Besides, for the most part, people came back safe and well. It had only been bad luck that meant they’d lost Ridley.

  The thought of her older brother caused her heart to tighten with grief. She tried not to think about him—how he’d shared her coloring, with their strawberry blonde hair and golden brown eyes—knowing it would only bring her pain. They had been three years apart in age, but people always commented on how they could have been twins, had they been closer together. He would be twenty-three, had he lived, and she was now the same age he’d been when he’d been killed on the journey.

  Dela slipped out of bed and quickly pulled her short tunic over her head, covering the vest she’d slept in. Most women wore their tunics longer, but Dela found it wasn’t practical, especially when she was trying to work. She pulled on her soft leather pants, tugging the belt tight around her waist, and shoved her feet into her boots. Finally, she tied her long hair into a knot at her nape.

  Her mother and father’s bed was across the room from her own. The house wasn’t big enough for separate bedrooms. They had one living area, where they lived and slept, and a bathroom out back. It was barely a house, really, more of a shack, but even the presence of a bathroom was considered luxury to some.

  Most young women her age would have left home by now, but she hadn’t wanted to leave her parents alone. It was hard enough getting by in this city, especially during the time approaching The Choosing when food was stored up to exchange with the population on the Western coast. They needed her income to get by, and she wasn’t about to just up and leave them. Besides, since losing Ridley, she’d known her mother, Johanna, had needed her in more than just a practical way. The hole he’d left in all their hearts was an impossible one to fill, but that didn’t stop Dela from trying.

  She went to her mother’s bedside and crouched next to where she lay. Her mother’s eyes opened as she sensed Dela approach, and Dela covered her hand with her own. The back was crepe-papery with age, though her mother was only in her forties. But a hard life had caused her to age fast.

  “It’ll be okay, Mama. Just like it has been for the last five Choosings.”

  Johanna sniffed and sat up in bed. Beside her, Dela’s father, Godfrey, grunted and rolled over.

  “You don’t know that, Dela, darling. And I know you’re trying to be kind, but until this day is over and I can be sure you’re not one of the people going, I’m going to stay upset, okay?”

  Her mother once had the same strawberry blonde hair as Dela, but now the tresses were streaked with white. She wore it long, like Dela, but Johanna’s was caught up in a thick braid which fell down her back.

  “I know, but it doesn’t stop me from wanting to make you feel better.”

  “You’re a good girl.”

  Dela leaned in and kissed her mother’s cheek. “The Choosing isn’t for a few hours yet, anyway. I’m going to go out and fetch us some breakfast.”

  “Okay. Be careful.”

  “I will.”

  Dela crossed back to her side of the room and bent to slide her hand beneath the thin mattress. Her fingertips met with cool steel, and she pulled the dagger out from where she’d hidden it, its weight solid in her palm. There were times when her job came in useful, and getting her hands on this dagger of Elvish steel for a fraction of what it was worth was one of those times. She pushed the blade into her belt, and then pulled the bottom of her tunic over the hilt, hiding the weapon from prying eyes. If someone tried to steal the blade, they’d find themselves sorry. It might not be a full-sized sword, but Dela was skilled with the dagger.

  She didn’t have work today. Normally, she assisted the blacksmith, forging various tools, household goods, and weapons, but today was a special day, and unless you were one of the market stall holders, or one of the taverners, hoping to make some extra money, it wasn’t worth working over.

  Dela opened the front door and stepped out onto the street. Already, the city was busy, people rushing about, getting ready for The Choosing. She walked the narrow winding streets, stepping over puddles and dodging small children playing chasing games. The little ones didn’t really understand the importance of the day. Anyone under the age of sixteen wasn’t eligible, and only when children approached their teenage years did they consider this to be something that would affect them. Parents sometimes went away, but for the most part, they came back. Pregnant or nursing mothers were also exempt from The Choosing, and often families had many children in order to prevent the mother of the family ever being entered. Unfortunately for her own mother, nature hadn’t been kind, and Johanna had been unable to have a big family. And when their family’s name had come up in The Choosing, it had been the youngest male of the family who’d gone and never returned.

  As Dela approached the market square, she sensed the atmosphere building. There was understandable tension in the air, but also excitement. There were some who wanted to be part of the Chosen, who looked forward to an opportunity to escape the confines of the city and prove themselves.

  Food stalls were already crowded with people, and the scent of spices filled the air. Small buns filled with fried vegetable patties, crispy pastry containing raisins and spices, flatbreads stuffed with spiced potatoes and chickpeas. Prices had begun to rise as the City Guards started to s
tore grains for the Passover. Once the Chosen had returned from their mission, however, they would have several months of opulence before things started to get expensive again in time for the next Choosing.

  Located behind the market square, the intimidating fortress of the castle rose into the sky. Its splendor was a contrast to the poor slums of the rest of the city. There were a few areas where wealthier folk lived, but most of Anthoinia were like her family, or even poorer. Officially, King and Queen Crowmere ruled over the whole of the lands of Xantearos, but each of the races had their own region, which the humans stayed well away from. During the forging of the Treaty, one hundred and fifty years ago, Xantearos was divided up so each of the races no longer needed to mix. The only time they did was during the Passover, when commodities were exchanged to ensure each race was able to survive comfortably, and even then, it was only for a short while.

  Knowing her mother loved the raisin pastries, Dela headed over to that stall.

  Suddenly, hands grabbed at her waist from behind, and her stomach lurched. Dela reached for her dagger and spun around at the same time.

  When she saw who had grabbed her, she exhaled a sigh. “By the Gods, Layla, I almost stabbed you!”

  Her friend took a couple of dancing steps back, her dark hair flying around her face. “Only if you were fast enough.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t tempt me!”

  Layla Buckley laughed. “I’ve always been quicker than you. Even when we were at school together.”

  “Things can change, you know.”

  Layla grinned, not taking her threats seriously. “You getting something for Johanna?”

  “Yeah, she’s worrying herself sick again. Just like every Choosing. I thought a decent breakfast would make her feel better.”

  Her friend appraised her. “And how are you feeling?”

  She shrugged. “Okay. Same as every Choosing. How about you?”

  “I’m fine, but I’m not the one who lost my big brother through this process. You’re allowed to be a bit freaked out by it all, Dela. I know you want to stay strong for your mother, but this affects you, too.”

  “Like I said, I’m fine. In a few hours, this will all be over, and we can get back to our normal lives.”

  “For the next six months, at least,” Layla pointed out.

  “True.”

  She’d reached the front of the line, and so ordered three of the pastries. “Do you want one?” she offered her friend as she was ordering.

  “Nah, I’m fine. I ate already. Save them for your family. We can all barely afford to feed ourselves, never mind other people’s families.”

  “Your family is a lot bigger than mine,” she said. “And anyway, you’re practically family, Layla. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers.”

  Layla nudged her in the side. “We certainly fight like sisters!”

  It was true, but they looked after each other like sisters, too.

  The stall holder handed Dela a paper bag containing the warm pastries, and she paid him the money in return, not getting anything like the sort of change she had for exactly the same thing only a matter of weeks ago.

  Dela nodded to the castle overlooking them. “I bet they don’t have to pay double for everything this close to The Choosing.”

  Layla snorted. “Even if they did, it’s not as though they couldn’t afford it. They’re probably sitting on more money than either of us will see in our lives. Queen Crowmere probably wipes her backside with bills.”

  “Layla, hush!”

  She glanced around, making sure none of the City Guards were around. They could get in trouble for talking about the queen in such a way. The City Guards would be especially vigilant this morning when emotions were running high, expecting fights to break out, or even lootings and runaways.

  “I should get back,” Dela said. “It’s only another hour until The Choosing, and I don’t want my mother to get worried.”

  “Of course.”

  Already people were gathering near the platform at the base of the castle’s walls where the names would be called. The number of people called would be twenty or more, and everyone would want to hear each and every name, just in case either they or someone they loved—or even hated—was called upon. People jostled shoulders to get the best spots near the front, not wanting to miss anything.

  Dela leaned in and gave her friend a quick hug. “Good luck.”

  “You, too,” Layla said before turning and running off in the opposite direction, quickly engulfed by the crowds.

  Clutching the warm pastries to her chest, Dela headed home.

  Her father was standing outside the front door, frowning at her as she approached. “Where have you been? Your mother is worried sick.”

  “To get breakfast, Pops.” She lifted the paper bag containing the treats. “And I’m not a child anymore. I turned into adulthood four years ago, when I was sixteen. I’m only still living here because of—”

  Dela cut herself off, realizing she was about to say it was only because of them. She didn’t want to say anything hurtful, not now. They were good parents, all in all. Her mother worried too much, and her father could be a little gruff, but considering the hand life had dealt them, she didn’t have much to complain about. She knew other girls who’d been put out to work in the brothels as soon as they’d turned sixteen—or sometimes even younger when the parents lied about their ages—and the money earned was given back to the household. At least she’d been allowed to learn a trade that didn’t involve her lying on her back or being on her knees.

  Her mother appeared, dressed in a long version of Dela’s tunic, which brushed the older woman’s ankles. “There you are. I was worried.”

  “I know, Mama. I’m sorry. But I brought your favorites.”

  She pushed the paper bag into her mother’s hands. Johanna opened the bag and burst into tears.

  Alarmed, Dela asked, “Don’t you like them anymore?”

  She swiped away at her tears. “Yes, I do. I love them. I’m just so frightened that tomorrow you’ll be gone.”

  “I’ll be fine, Mama. Just eat now. We have to leave soon.”

  “You need to eat, too.” Johanna reached into the bag and pulled out one of the pastries and handed it back to Dela. “It’s important you stay strong, just in case …”

  “Everything is going to be fine, Mama. Wait and see.”

  Dela took the pastry her mother offered her and brought it to her mouth, only to discover her appetite had vanished and a cold worm of worry had replaced it.

  Chapter 2

  Warsgra

  He lifted his axe and brought it down directly over the neck of the boar. The animal didn’t even have time to squeal before it collapsed to the ground, and hot blood spurted from the cut. The dying animal kicked its legs a couple of times, jerking in its death throes.

  Warsgra sent a prayer for the boar’s spirit up to the mountain Gods as the final breath left the animal’s body, and it fell still for good.

  Not wanting to let anything go to waste, Warsgra dipped his hand to the wound of the dying beast and allowed his palm to fill with the hot fluid. It warmed his skin, and, before it got the chance to cool, he brought the blood to his mouth and drank deeply.

  He gave a grunt of pleasure. That was good. The blood would fortify him, and he needed fresh meat for the journey ahead.

  Warsgra straightened, and with one fist—the one not holding the axe—he pulled his long, wavy brown hair away from his face. Though he was standing at the base of the Great Dividing Range, the mountain range that ran almost all the way through the middle of Xantearos, he wore only shoulder protectors, a loincloth, and thick, animal skin boots. He’d grown up in this environment his whole life and didn’t feel the cold.

  The thought made him growl in irritation. He was going to have to travel with other folks soon. Their puny bodies and need for multiple layers made this trek even more of a chore. He’d have preferred to take only a few m
ore of his own kind, the Norcs, or even go it alone, but this was how peace had remained among the other folk living on the Western coast, and he didn’t want another war breaking out. While he might have the brute strength so lacking in the other races, he appreciated that they had their skills. The Elvish could be cunning, and some of them even had magical abilities, though they were no longer allowed to use them, and the Moerians were dangerous fighters, skilled on horseback and with a weapon of any kind.

  No, it was better that he swallow his pride twice a year so they all worked together. The crops weren’t enough on this side of the mountain range to keep everyone fed, and while he was happy hunting and eating meat for every meal, the women and children of his clan were not.

  Even worse than traveling with the other races who lived on this side of the coast was meeting with the humans a little beyond the midway point of the Southern Pass. As much as he disliked the Elvish and Moerians, he despised the humans. They needed to send multiple amounts of their number just to make it halfway through the pass, and by the time they met with him and his clan, they were exhausted and terrified. They were a pitiful sight to behold, and he still didn’t understand how they’d managed to keep hold of most of the Eastern coast all these years. Yes, their numbers were great, and their ability to build and design far surpassed his kind, but every time he came face to face with one, all he could think was how he’d be able to crush them with a single blow from his fist. He was grateful that his interaction with them only ever needed to be limited to exchanging goods. If he was forced to travel with them for any amount of time, he imagined he would struggle to hold back his natural instincts to crush them.