House of Dragons (Royal Houses #1) - K.A. Linde Page 0,4
debilitating pain had wreaked havoc on her body. The disability had made Kerrigan see the smoking in a whole new light.
With the first puff, everything about Clover loosened. “So, how’d it go? You look like shite.”
“Thank you very much,” Kerrigan said sarcastically. She palmed the pouch Dozan had given her.
“Holy scales,” Clover said, snatching the bag out of Kerrigan’s hand. She pushed up the sleeve of her red button-up and weighed the bag in her hand. “Who’d you swipe this from?”
“Dozan came to see me.”
Clover rolled her eyes as she headed toward the bar on the other side of the room. “Of course he did. He has it so bad for you. You should just give in.”
Kerrigan rolled her eyes. “No, thank you. Dozan likes to own things, and I won’t be owned.”
“I’d let him own me,” Clover said. She dropped her smoke in a passing drink. Already, she looked so much better. Her skin more vibrant and her eyes somehow even wider. As if the smoke had breathed life back into her.
“He already does. You work as a dealer in his gambling ring.”
“Well, I meant, my body, Kerrigan.”
“Red,” she muttered. No one here was supposed to know who Kerrigan was. “If you please.”
“Right, Red. Sorry. But back to Dozan…”
“Let’s not.”
“You’re no fun.”
“You tell me constantly.”
Clover rolled her eyes. “Anyway, what are you going to do with your earnings?”
Kerrigan shrugged. “Get you drunk?”
“Get drunk with me,” Clover said, raising her eyebrows.
“You know I have to go back to the mountain. The tournament starts tomorrow.”
Clover sighed heavily and pulled out another smoke. “Fine.”
Kerrigan pulled out a few marks from the purse and dropped them on the bar for Clover. “Meet me tomorrow. I’ll get you a seat to watch.”
“Dragons up,” Clover said with a wink.
Kerrigan left her at the bar with her loch and watered-down ale. She headed up another level and out the back way onto the streets of Kinkadia. She breathed in the clean air from the valley and turned her head skyward to take in the twinkling night stars overhead. A dragon passed across the moon, briefly shadowing it. She missed flying. Gods, she seriously missed flying.
She trudged across the cobblestones through the Dregs of the city of Kinkadia. The old familiar walkways were notoriously the worst part of the city. Primarily humans and half-Fae lived in squalor on the north side of the valley where the city was located, bracketed on three sides by an impressively large mountain range and a winding river running diagonally along the southern border.
She should have headed straight for her home in Draco Mountain, but her heart wasn’t in it tonight. The mountain had been her home the last twelve years, after she’d been left at the base of the mountain with no note or any belongings. And while she remembered enough from her time before the mountain had swallowed her up, she hated nights like tonight where it all came to the surface.
Like her horrid father who had left her behind so that he didn’t have to be responsible for raising a half-Fae.
Her father—Lord Kivrin Argon, the High Fae royal party boy, who had equally destroyed and saved her life.
And she hated him for all of it.
Her heart thundered in her chest as she picked up her pace through her dark, dank streets, accessing her favorite shortcut. A noise sounded behind her and she stopped in her tracks. Something was wrong.
Then, a rock whizzed toward her face. Kerrigan dodged the blow with a gasp. Adrenaline flooded her sore muscles and revitalized her dwindling magic.
Scales, what was going on?
A figure stepped into the center of the alley—Bruiser.
“Hello, Red.”
“You again,” she grumbled. “Didn’t have enough fun the first time?”
Bruiser had cleaned up. He wore a bright white button-up and a fancy black jacket with gold thread. She never would have guessed he could afford that. Not when he was fighting in the Dragon Ring.
But now that her senses were awake, she saw him for the distraction he was. This was an ambush. Three more men slunk out of the shadows.
“You couldn’t beat me in the ring, Bruiser, so you brought friends?” Kerrigan placed her hand over her heart. “I’m flattered.”
“Shut up, leatha,” Bruiser spat.
Kerrigan stilled at that word. She didn’t flinch. She would never let someone see her flinch away from that word again. But anger—deep-rooted fury—settled into her veins and brought forth a fount of magic from the depths of her stores.
“How original,” she said, but her voice had lost its humor.