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  Dragon’s Chosen Mate

  Storm Dragons (Book 3)

  A Winterspell Academy Novel

  Riley Storm

  Dragon’s Chosen Mate

  Copyright© 2020 Riley Storm

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic means, without written permission from the author. The sole exception is for the use of brief quotations in a book review. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real.

  All sexual activities depicted occur between consenting characters 18 years or older who are not blood-related.

  Edited by Annie Jenkinson, Just Copyeditors

  Cover Designs by Kasmit Covers

  Table of Contents

  Dragon’s Chosen Mate

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter One

  Christine

  “So when you pass, are you going to go back to Elk Pines and celebrate?”

  Christine frowned, unhappy at the distraction as she prepared to enter the Testing Room. “Why are you so insistent that I pair up with Julian?” she asked, exasperated. “And do you really think now is the right time?”

  The woman on her right shrugged. “He likes you. He’s cute. You like him.”

  “I never said I liked him,” Christine said sharply, turning her hawk-nosed gaze on her friend, long ponytail swishing behind her, like a horse’s tail, indicating she was agitated.

  “You never said you didn’t like him,” Jessie pointed out calmly.

  Christine glared, but she was distracted as the double doors in front of her shuddered with a loud metal clang and began to swing open. “Now is not the time for this.”

  “Now is the perfect time for this,” Jessie argued. “You’re going to ace the test. We both know that. What you need is to keep your mind calm, not get all stressed out like you usually do before your Tests.”

  “If I pass this, my next will be to graduate and become a Master,” Christine growled, lowering her voice as the doors yawned wide, darkness beyond beckoning her. “So, it’s kind of a big deal. Now stop trying to distract me and wish me luck.”

  “Luck,” Jessie said, wrapping her in a big hug before stepping back. “I’ll be right here, waiting for you when you’re done. We’ll fly to Elk Pines right away, get you to Julian.”

  Christine sighed, pushing her friend off her shoulder and off her mind. Julian was just a boy from the nearby town that Jessie kept trying to set her up with, despite Christine’s claims she wasn’t interested. Regardless, he would be of no help to her in the Testing Room. She would need all her mind, and all her magic, to pass whatever had been assembled for her.

  Gripping her staff tightly, she walked forward, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly as she headed toward the circle of light, the only thing she could see in the darkness. The Test could start at any time once the doors were closed.

  A red dart of energy spat at her from the darkness off to her right, but Christine was ready. The magical energy spattered and died on a green barrier three feet from her face. She didn’t bother retaliating. Whoever had cast the spell would be long gone.

  Green and blue balls of energy zipped in at her, but they too shattered against her shield. Christine was well prepared. In her twenty-first year of study at Winterspell, it would take more than that to faze her.

  Something scuffed the floor behind her. Christine spun, but she had only halfway completed her turn when something hard slammed into her pivot leg, taking it out from under her and dropping her to the floor.

  Immediately billowing flame shot toward her face from somewhere in the darkness. But Christine’s shield was already back in place. She grinned to herself, peeling a thin rod of wood perhaps ten inches long and half an inch wide out of a groove on the staff.

  Her attack had made a mistake. The flames were bright, and they showed Christine much. Including the location of the caster.

  Green light shot forth from the tip of her wand, like a ribbon. It whipped through the air and wrapped up her intended target like she was in a spider’s web, immobilizing the witch, and stopping the flames.

  Christine started to smile to herself at the first victory, but it died halfway in place as the floor shook so hard she was spilled to her rear.

  “What the heck is that?” she asked. This was new to her. In her seven and a half years as an Apprentice, she’d never experienced anything like that in the Testing Room.

  The floor shook again. Maintaining her shield, Christine walked toward what she thought was the source of the rumbling and shaking. As she moved, nobody attacked her, and light appeared. She was walking down a tunnel.

  The walls and floor shook, nearly spilling her to the ground yet again, but Christine steadied herself and pushed on, wondering what the Masters had dreamed up for her this year.

  “Well that’s terrifying,” she whispered as the tunnel spit her out…into a replica of Winterspell’s exterior. Christine found herself on a balcony high up on one building, looking out at the walls.

  An army of nightmarish creatures was assaulting the walls, led by a massive troll nearly fifteen feet high. The giant creature held a metal club, and as she watched, he swung it down, crashing hard against the thick stone walls of Winterspell.

  This was her test then, she realized. Not against other witches. No, she was to save Winterspell. Magical constructs of witches rushed to and fro, battling against the creatures, but they weren’t doing well. They were disorganized, and lacking any heavy hitters.

  “Very well,” she said, summoning her courage and stepping off the edge of the balcony.

  Christine plummeted to the ground below, slowing rapidly as her magic cushioned the fall.

  “You!” she shouted at a group of witches that appeared to be wandering around aimlessly, unsure what to do, terrified of what they were seeing. “With me. Round up anyone else you can find. You are my personal guard.”

  The witches responded to her voice, forming up behind her. Christine barked orders as she went, and the defenders of Winterspell slowly stiffened as she injected some spine into them.

  Leaping onto the wall, she prepared to do battle with the troll. The creatures were notoriously resistant to magic, and this one was bigger than any she’d ever seen, straight out of legend. Around it,
a horde of orcs, ogres and goblins waited at the base of the walls. They were trying to erect ladders and breach the walls.

  “Sweep them clear,” Christine cried to her guard. “I’ll deal with the big guy.”

  Relieved witch-constructs leapt to do her bidding, grateful to have a task they were confident they could handle.

  Now, if only I could feel the same.

  Christine raised her staff and prepared to cast her strongest fire spell. It was the only magic that affected trolls.

  Before she could cast the spell, however, the entire simulation froze. Witches, creatures from the Abyss. It all just went still.

  “Um,” Christine said out loud, knowing she was being watched. “What did I do wrong?”

  A head shrouded in the depths of a hood appeared in front of her with an abruptness that sent her skidding back a step.

  “All witches not on patrol must report to the main auditorium immediately. All classes, testing and other projects are hereby suspended.”

  Christine watched the image of Circe, the head of Winterspell as it repeated the message a second time.

  “What’s going on?” she asked, looking around, not sure if this was part of the Test or not.

  Someone spoke a word, and suddenly she was standing in the middle of an empty room. Several Masters stood around her, including one where the troll had been.

  “I’m not sure,” the nearest, Master Pinton, said quietly.

  “I repeat,” Circe’s head said. “All witches must report to the main auditorium.”

  There was a pause.

  “Lord Berith has returned.”

  Christine leaned heavily on her staff as the other Masters gasped in a mixture of surprise and horror.

  Everyone knew the name. Lord Berith, demon lord from the Abyss. One of the worst enemies the witches had ever faced in their history.

  And he was back.

  Chapter Two

  Altair

  “Thank you all for coming.”

  Altair sat back in his seat as Circe appeared on stage, her voice effortlessly amplified to carry to all corners of the auditorium. Even sitting in the very back with all the other dragons, he had no issues making out every word the head witch was saying.

  “And thank you to our new friends for also coming.” Circe extended a hand up to the back of the sloped auditorium.

  Heads turned, many of the witches realizing for the first time that the dragons were in attendance as well. Though they hadn’t technically been invited, Altair knew that Circe wasn’t likely to turn down their presence either.

  Whoever this Lord Berith was, they were powerful enough to warrant immediate and full attention from the assembled might of all of Winterspell. That told Altair all he needed to know about the situation.

  Most of the looks directed up at the dragons were ones of surprise or curiosity, but every so often, he noticed a face that was closed off or full of dark glares. He ignored those, as did his fellows. The dragons were becoming a fixture at Winterspell now, and their numbers had swelled to over fifty in the last two weeks.

  The head of the anti-dragon contingent was gone now, and he hoped that would mean things would settle down soon. Altair needed to find his purpose, and he couldn’t do that if he was constantly fending off angry attempts by the witches to rid Winterspell of the dragons.

  “As I mentioned,” Circe said, drawing everyone’s attention—including the dragon’s—back to her. “Lord Berith has returned to earth. For those of you not aware, Lord Berith is one of the ten Demon Lords of the Abyss.”

  Altair nodded slowly. He had heard of the Abyss. All his kind were aware of it now, a sort of alternate world or plane of existence that existed on Earth. It was home to all sorts of foul creatures, including this Lord Berith, it seemed.

  And if there are only ten of his kind there…

  “It has been nearly three hundred years since he last walked out of the Abyss,” Circe said softly. “The last time he was on Earth, he killed hundreds of thousands. If you aren’t up to date on your history, then I urge you to read up on the horrors that accompanied him. He was finally stopped in Lisbon, Portugal, in 1755.” Circe looked over the crowd.

  “Humans believe it to be an earthquake that struck the city, killing nearly 70,000 innocent civilians. Flooding as far away as Morocco killed many more. We never found out the exact total, but estimates say it was close to a quarter of a million souls that perished from our fight with Lord Berith.”

  Altair licked his lips. Whoever the demon lord was, he sounded like a worthy foe.

  “As you are aware,” Circe said, speaking solemnly. “It was only with the supreme sacrifice of Master Ada Erlinger that he was finally stopped.”

  Altair’s spine stiffened, his attention grabbed by this last bit of information from Circe. Someone had sacrificed their life to save that of others? Was that the way it must be done then, to defeat this demon? Could it be?

  “For now, our counterparts out of Hexe Institute are tracking Lord Berith, while he is still in Europe. They will attempt to dispatch him back to the Abyss, however due to his strength, it was deemed prudent to inform everyone at Winterspell. As a result of his return, however, I will be forming a response team.”

  Before he knew what he was doing, Altair rose to his feet. Heads nearby turned at the sound.

  “I will go on behalf of the dragons, to fight this foe,” he said calmly, his voice carrying across the rows of witches to the front of the auditorium, where the Circe turned to face him.

  A hush fell over the room. Altair knew he had spoken out of line, that the dragons weren’t even invited to the meeting. To then assume that they would be allowed to join the team, to fight this demon lord, that was taking things to another level.

  Circe was trapped, he knew. Altair had volunteered in front of hundreds of witches. If she was to turn him down now, it would not only be rude, but also indicative of a lack of trust in the dragons. A trust that Circe herself had begun championing as necessary if the two groups were to get along. She couldn’t very well go back on her word now.

  Which meant Altair knew he was going to get exactly what he wanted. A place on the team, and a chance to ensure nobody else died who did not have to.

  “That is a most generous offer,” Circe said slowly. “I had not expected such assistance, but with the power that Lord Berith represents, I find myself hard pressed to say no.”

  Altair stayed standing, knowing that he was being rebuked for speaking up, even while his offer was being accepted. Circe was not happy, and he didn’t bother looking to his side, knowing that Rokh and the other leaders would also be furious with him.

  “You are welcomed as a representative of the dragons…” Circe trailed off, her tone making it clear what she wanted.

  “Altair, of the storm dragons,” he said.

  “Thank you, Altair. Your assistance is most welcomed and appreciated.” Circe dipped her head in his direction to acknowledge him, before returning to the rest of the auditorium.

  “If you wish to volunteer for the response team, please speak to Master Pinton, who will be overseeing its creation and training, to begin immediately. In the meantime, please do not be alarmed. Within the walls of Winterspell, you are safe. It is the humans that must worry, and that we must be ready to protect.”

  With our lives, if we must, Altair added, knowing Circe was thinking the same.

  “What are you doing?” a voice hissed at him from down the aisle.

  Altair slowly turned his head. Rokh was glaring at him, his eyes practically aflame with red. The fire dragon was the leader of the dragons, true, but he wasn’t going to stop Altair. Not this time.

  “I have made my decision,” he said calmly.

  Rokh trembled with barely restrained fury.

  There was nothing the fire dragon could do now though. Everyone in the auditorium knew that Altair was to be the dragon representative on the response team. If Rokh tried to pull Altair out, others would wonder w
hy—and if whoever was assigned in his place was as dedicated to the cause.

  No dragon was as dedicated as Altair. None of them needed salvation like he did. A way to erase the mistakes they had made.

  If a death was what it took to stop this demon before he could hurt others, then Altair was going to ensure it was his.

  Chapter Three

  Christine

  There was a momentary pause as Circe closed out the meeting, as if nobody was quite sure what to do or what to say. Heads turned left and right, and a handful of people stood but for the most part, the entire auditorium was silent, unmoving.

  As if a pre-agreed time limit had expired, everyone started talking at once, turning the silent room into a madhouse of activity, mild panic and shocked reactions.

  Christine was up and moving almost instantly, making a beeline for the doors. Her attention wasn’t on Circe, or the witches talking about what had just been said, or their memories of studying Lord Berith from history class. Her mind was elsewhere.

  “Excuse me,” she said, sliding sideways as best her thick figure would allow to fit between two groups of her peers. “Pardon me.”

  The groups moved aside, giving her a curious expression but quickly returning their focus to the hushed talks of the momentous announcement. Everyone, it seemed, had something to say. Christine ignored it, knowing that such topics were gossip fodder for most of the witches, who would have little to nothing to do with the situation.

  Reaching the edge of the auditorium, she pivoted and went up the steps as fast as she could, eager to catch her quarry before they left. Just why she felt the urgent need to speak to them was beyond her, but she knew she needed to. To understand their decision.

  “Which one of you volunteered to join the response team?” she asked, coming to a halt in front of the dragons, hands on her waist, looking at the thirty-plus adult dragons milling around, seeming unsure what to do.

  There were looks between them, some of which weren’t overly happy. One of them stepped forward.

  “He’s left already.”

  Christine blinked. “He left?”