1. Chapter

Zade

The dragon smoke was suffocating, but I had learned long ago how to breathe in it. Leaning against the marble railing of the balcony, I watched the crowd swirling below and felt the urge to burn the whole place to the ground. The smell of cheap perfume and sweat drifted up to me, mixed with the sour stench of fear.

"Choose already, Zade."

Noctis's voice did not sound in my ears but thundered in the deepest part of my skull. It was like two boulders grinding against each other in darkness.

"I am hungry. I feel their terror but it is not enough. I want blood. I want steel."

I clenched my jaw. Noctis, my black dragon, rested in the caves beneath the castle, yet I felt the tremor of every scale on his body. Our bond was tighter than usual today. His hunting instinct pulsed through my veins.

"Shut up, Noctis," I shot back in thought. "You know I do not need a servant. They are nothing but trouble. Either they try to kill me in my sleep or they throw themselves at my feet hoping to carry the empire's heir. Disgusting."

"This one will be different," the dragon murmured, sending a wave of hot satisfaction through my mind. "Your father wants blood. I want blood too."

My father, King Toric, stepped beside me. The spikes of his red gold crown rose toward the sky like dragon fangs. When he spoke his voice filled the air, and the crowd below fell silent at once.

"People of Blackwood. The Ironbloods led by Malakor have crossed the border. Today you will not choose servants, my sons."

He turned toward us and his gaze rested on me for a moment.

"You will choose weapons. Ones who can stand beside your dragons in fire. Go and choose."

I pushed myself away from the railing. Lucius and Caspian were already heading down, surrounded by their guards. I followed them slowly. When I stepped into the square the crowd parted before me like the sea. People lowered their eyes to the ground. No one dared look at me. They knew my reputation. They knew the scar on my face and they knew that Noctis showed no mercy.

Suddenly a sharp crack and an angry shout reached my ears. I stopped. At the edge of the square three large thugs had surrounded someone in the mud.

"Hand over the bag, you little pale whore!" one of them shouted.

In the center of the circle stood a girl. Her torn gray canvas dress barely covered her body, but her posture was not that of a beggar. Her hair fell down her back like a blinding white waterfall, a sharp contrast against the dirt and mud.

One of the men lunged forward. The girl did not scream. She did not step back. She struck like a lynx trapped in a corner. With one precise movement she grabbed the man's wrist and used his own weight to slam him into the ground. Before the others could react she kicked one behind the knee and smashed her elbow into the face of the third with pure force.

Her movements were rough but deadly. She had not learned to fight. She had learned to survive.

"Look."

By now Noctis was almost raging inside my head. I felt his desire spreading through my body.

"Look at her face, Zade. That is her."

I stepped closer. When the men noticed me approaching they ran away like cowards. The girl remained alone in the middle of the circle, breathing hard. When she turned toward me the sunlight struck her face.

My breath caught.

Her eyes were wild emerald green, filled with pure hatred. But what stopped my heart was the scar. Under her right eye, exactly on the cheekbone, a thin cut ran across her skin almost in the same place where my own scar marked my face.

"Who are you?" I asked. My voice was deeper than usual.

She looked over my black coat and my weapons, then met my eyes directly. She did not bow. She simply spat in front of my boots.

"No one who has anything to do with you, little prince," she said coldly.

I stepped closer, invading her personal space. I felt the heat of her body, the smell of sweat and the street, but above it all something else. The fire of Noctis. I grabbed her wrist. She stiffened immediately. The anger in her eyes was replaced by a flash of deep fear. She struggled wildly like an animal caught in a trap.

"Let go of me," she hissed, her voice trembling in her throat. "Do not dare touch me."

"Do not dare?"

I leaned closer to her ear, feeling the scent of her skin.

"You do not understand. Today I am your god. I decide whether you rot in the mud or learn to kill in my palace."

"I choose the mud," she snapped, although her body trembled in my grip.

I did not answer. I simply lifted her hand and turned toward the crowd so everyone could hear.

"I take her."

The girl looked straight into my eyes. Every curse she could imagine burned in her green gaze. In my mind Noctis purred with satisfaction.

"We found her, Zade. Black and white. Let the game begin."

I tightened my grip on her wrist and started walking toward the palace with her beside me. I knew this girl would either be my doom or my salvation. But one thing was certain. Under no circumstances would I ever let her go.