Resurrection Of The Fallen Read online

  RESURRECTION OF THE FALLEN

  JESSAMYN KINGLEY

  Copyright © 2017 Jessamyn Kingley

  All Rights Reserved

  All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Editing: Flat Earth Editing

  Cover Design: 2017 © L.J. Anderson, Mayhem Cover Creations

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite eBook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  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 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

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  About the Author

  PART I

  DRAKELINGS

  TO DRAGONS

  Chapter 1

  1017 AD, The Emperor’s Annual Fair

  Prince Drystan Beradraconis left his father’s tent with his cheeks aflame. He had waited all his life for his mother and father to allow him to attend the fair, which was held at the Emperor’s castle every year. At seventeen, his father had finally decreed he was old enough to accompany them. Now Drystan wondered; if he’d known his father would insist on speaking with him, would he have come at all? Drystan’s father, King Aeron Beradraconis, had just educated his son about personal relations between a man and a woman. Drystan was not sure what was worse: listening to his father talk of such things or hearing about the act itself. King Beradraconis had informed him he needed to know about these matters so he would be sure not to compromise himself in any way. They were dragon shifters, and dragons waited for their mates.

  Shaking his head to try and rid it of the disturbing images, Drystan let the tent flap close behind him. Drystan’s sire believed firmly any light that could be shed on a subject made it easier to come to a decision. Up until now his son had agreed with him, but since Drystan was unlikely to even meet his other half until after he shifted—and that was over eighty years away—he reasoned his father had mostly told him those things to scare him senseless. Drystan rubbed his hand over his belly to calm it. He decided what he needed the most now was a meat pie and a tankard of ale. If that did not fail to clear his mind, he figured nothing would.

  It did not take Drystan long to ease his hunger or quench his thirst. Since his mother wasn’t anywhere to see, Drystan wiped the remnants of his meal onto his tunic with his fingertips as he pondered what to do next. Before he could come to any decision, he was unceremoniously shoved in the back and fell to his knees in the dirt. Drystan frowned fiercely and wiped the earth from his hose as he made it to his feet. Turning to figure out which fool he needed to pound on, Drystan saw a brown-haired man standing there staring at him completely slack-jawed.

  “Have you anything to say before I plant my fist into your face?” Drystan asked. He watched as the man snapped his mouth closed and firmed his full lips into a thin line.

  “It would be rather difficult to accomplish such a task with your head shoved that far up your arse,” the man practically spat at him as he stepped close to Drystan and poked him in the chest. Drystan smiled broadly as he realized the fool barely reached his chin. Pummeling him would truly be an easy feat. But before Drystan could so much as curl his fingers into a fist, the most wondrous smell reached his nose. It was like sandalwood, the rich roses of his mother’s finest bushes, and the lavender he secretly loved in his bath soap combined. Drystan slid his eyes closed and inhaled deeply. The heavenly scent surrounded him as if it were mere inches from his nose. He looked down and discovered it was the fool in front of him who smelled so astounding. Drystan gasped as his brain finally caught up with the aroma. This short, rude man was his mate.

  * * *

  Marquis Conley Kelandraconis looked up at the big oaf standing in front of him and wondered what he had done to anger Fate. He was but nineteen years of age and he could not recall anything he had done that was ghastly in nature, but surely she had it in for him. There had been many moments in his life when he had pondered what his mate would be like. He had even tried to imagine what his other half might look like, but Conley had never considered he’d be male. It was not unheard of in dragon society for those chosen to be together to have the same gender, but it was rare. He had heard of dragon kingdoms where couples of the same gender were separated, but the Emperor had made it clear this was against the ways of dragons. Fate decided with whom you shared your life. Conley came to the decision that he was not opposed to mating a male dragon. It was this buffoon standing above him with his mouth hanging open and his eyes as round as saucers he objected to.

  His other half.

  The one who should hold his heart and his soul. Fate truly hated him.

  With a profound sigh, Conley tilted his head up and to the side and considered the man in front of him. He was not unpleasant to look upon. In fact, with his long wavy black hair and eyes the color of an afternoon sky, he was quite handsome. Too bad he had the manners of a boor and apparently about as much intelligence as his horse. Conley decided he was tired of standing and waiting for this knave to begin drooling on himself. Opening his mouth with what surely would have been a scathing setdown to the giant hovering over him, Conley could only gasp as his wrist was grabbed and he was unceremoniously dragged through the crowds gathered over the Emperor’s expansive lands. Conley was left with little choice but to do his best to keep up with the demanding pace set by the other man because try as he might, he was unable to wrench his arm from the tight grip in which it was held.

  “Unhand me,” Conley yelled at his back, but the beast kept walking and either did not hear the command or chose to ignore it. Conley was betting on the latter. They weaved and darted through throngs of people milling about, and the thought occurred to him that perhaps this gigantic man was taking him somewhere private in which to dispatch him. He truly had no idea if his being male offended the lout. Surely that would be the only reason he could have cause for complaint. Many dragons waited hundreds or thousands of years to find their mates. Truly the most shocking part of their pairing was their age. It was nearly unheard of for un-shifted dragons to meet their other halves.

  Conley decided the drakeling surely had a surprise in his future if he thought he would
be easy prey for any dastardly ideas he might be entertaining. He, like his peers, had few duties as dragons gave their offspring much time in which to mature. Drakelings were not dealt any true responsibilities until they had shifted for the first time and their rank amongst their people became apparent. Conley, being a single child of what could only be described as truly elderly parents at over two thousand years old and growing up in a small dragon court that offered him few friends, had spent many hours entertaining himself in the lists practicing his swordplay. He subconsciously rubbed his hand over the hilt of the weapon he was never without and assured himself he was not against the idea of hacking away at him should he prove to have murderous intentions.

  Before Conley could get too carried away with images of the large man at his feet begging for his miserable existence, they came to an abrupt stop at the front of a tent. Conley took notice of the family crest on the outside of it beautifully embroidered in silver. Only kings could display such regalia. The arse was most likely the son of one. Conley knew from the oaf’s manner of dress he was in the upper echelons of dragon society but as the child of a duke, Conley was used to outranking many and had hoped to have at least one advantage on his side. He sighed inwardly. Truly, Fate had no kindness for him.

  After they entered the tent, Conley bent his head in a quick bow to the king and queen seated inside. They acknowledged him with a nod, and the queen at least added a smile.

  “Bored of the fair’s attractions so soon, son?” the queen asked. They did not seem all that surprised to see him tug a man into the tent after him. Perhaps it was customary for him to drag people home to meet his parents against their will.

  “No, I have met my mate,” the buffoon said. Conley thought he heard pride in the giant’s voice but surely, he had to be mistaken.

  “Truly? This is wonderful news. You should have brought her back directly so we might become acquainted. So young to have found the other half of your soul, Fate surely smiles upon you,” the queen exclaimed and jumped up to give her son a kiss on the cheek. She barely had to raise her head to do so. Was everyone in this family of giant stature?

  “Mother, I did bring him to meet you. This is my mate.” With that statement, Conley felt an enormous tug upon his wrist and could not help but stumble forward a step nearly falling into the queen who was still standing close to her son. Conley threw the other drakeling a ferocious glare and after straightening from his near spill once again tried to free himself, but the giant was still not letting go. He then looked at the queen and saw that she had come to a complete and utter stop. She even seemed to cease breathing as she stared first at her son and then her eyes came to rest upon Conley’s abused self. Conley saw movement out of the corner of his eye and noticed the king had come to his feet to stand next to the queen. He wrapped his arm around her even though she seemed still frozen in shock and looked at Conley, astonishingly enough, with a smile.

  “This is truly happy news Drystan,” the king said and he too leaned forward to kiss his son upon the cheek. King and prince were nearly a match in height. The boor, who was apparently named Drystan, had received more affection since they had entered the tent than Conley had received from his own parents in the last decade. For some reason he could not quite understand, it pleased him that Drystan came from such loving people.

  “Indeed. Quite happy news. My apologies, I was a bit startled. It has been quite some time since I have seen two dragons of the same sex paired by Fate. It is rare but happy all the same,” the queen stated and looked at her son pointedly. The king also seemed to be gazing rather judiciously at his offspring. Conley watched as the king and queen took a break from watching Drystan to look at each other with what could only be puzzlement. With a shrug from each, they resumed looking at Drystan intently. The drakeling seemed completely unaffected by all the staring, and Conley truly had no idea as to what was taking place. The queen discreetly cleared her throat. The king coughed rather loudly into his hand. Finally, the king seemed to lose his patience and stomped his foot.

  “Drystan,” the king said in a sharp tone.

  “Yes, Father?”

  “We are waiting to be introduced,” his father explained, clearly exasperated with his son.

  “Truly Drystan, where are your manners?” the queen admonished.

  “But I cannot introduce you because he has not given me his name,” Drystan replied before the beast turned to him and smiled. Conley was so taken aback by the stunning beauty of Drystan’s expression, it took him a moment before steam all but rose from his ears. Drystan made it sound like he had withheld his name on purpose. The brute had not even asked for it, he thought in disgust. He had just tugged him about as if he were a horse with a bit of rope tied about its neck. Conley opened his mouth, ready to tear into Drystan’s hide but was interrupted by the king’s paw thrust in his direction.

  “King Aeron Beradraconis and this is my mate, Helen. We are genuinely honored to welcome you to our family,” he said and shook Conley’s hand. His sentiment seemed truly heartfelt, and although Conley really wanted nothing more than to stick his tongue out at Drystan and offer him a raspberry, he had been raised with manners befitting that of a duke’s son.

  “Marquis Conley Kelandraconis. Thank you for your kind words, Your Highnesses.”

  “Conley. That’s a nice name,” Drystan remarked and gave him another one of those smiles that made Conley forget why he already disliked the man.

  “Indeed, it is. Wonderful to meet you,” Queen Helen replied and actually drew Conley into her arms for a hug. Conley was quite shocked by her affectionate nature but returned the embrace. He even offered a pat or two upon her back in appreciation.

  “He is comely, is he not?” Drystan commented to the room at large and reminded Conley just how many things he was beginning to not like about the man intended for him.

  “Women are comely,” Conley snarled. He was certainly no woman, and he was definitely not comely. He would not mind the other drakeling thinking him handsome but again, Conley could not determine just why it was something he particularly desired since he could hardly stand the man.

  “Not all women are comely. But you are very comely. I believe your eyes are very pretty,” Drystan said to him. This time he offered Conley not only his much-too-fetching smile but added a wink as well. Conley ground his teeth together. First comely. Now he was referring to him as pretty. Would he ask him to don a dress next?

  “Drystan, you are embarrassing him with your praise,” the queen chided her son gently. Apparently, she had mistaken the state of mute rage Conley found himself in for bashfulness.

  “I have more to give. Fate has smiled upon me. I will be the envy of many,” Drystan began and Conley’s anger washed away. Unfortunately, the man wasn’t yet done speaking. “But I do find him to be small of stature.”

  “I am not short. You are overly tall,” Conley snapped.

  “You are feisty. I believe I like that.”

  Conley had had enough. “King Aeron. Queen Helen. Thank you for your hospitality. I am afraid I must return to my parents’ tent.”

  “You will dine with us,” Drystan replied.

  “Your manners, Drystan,” his mother admonished.

  “I have just met Conley; of course I wish to extend our time together, Mother.”

  “Of course you do, dear, but you must ask and not demand.”

  Drystan turned to Conley. “Will you do me the honor of dining with us this eve?”

  “No.” Before anyone had time to reply, Conley bolted from the tent, straightened his tunic, and set out to find an open area to practice his swordplay. The afternoon was proof he was going to be in dire need of it.

  Chapter 2

  Blowing out a breath, Drystan rested his elbows on his knees and dropped his chin into his outstretched hands. The day before, he’d met his mate and it had been wonderful. But the man had run from his family’s tent and he’d not seen hide nor hair of him since. Drystan’s father was trying
to remedy the situation and had set out to find the Kelandraconis tent. He’d given his name as Marquis Conley, so he was the son of a duke, but Drystan had no idea how old he was.

  Obviously, he was less than a hundred years; his eyes were not yet those of a dragon. It was exciting to think they would get the chance to cross that line from human to beast while together. However, it was also chilling. Not everyone survived their shift. Drystan knew he would prevail but Conley was small, whether he wished to admit it or not. He believed that meant Conley was more prone to be hurt in such a dangerous transition from man to dragon and back.

  Comely Conley. That was how Drystan would always think of him. Like his own, Conley’s hair was long but unlike Drystan’s raven tresses, his were a rich chestnut color. But it was his eyes that first grabbed his attention. They were an odd shade, caught somewhere between orange and yellow. It was unfortunate he would lose the rare hue after his shift when they took on the color of his beast.

  Drystan knew his would be black as they were the fiercest dragons alive. The two most common colors found in dragonkind were gray and brown. Perhaps Conley would shift into a beast that was close to the pigment of his eyes. Though if truth were to be told, they would likely be much darker as the lighter dragons were the ones who struggled to survive.

  “Drystan,” his father called.

  Picking himself up out of the dirt, Drystan grabbed his father’s cloak. “Have you found Conley?”

  King Beradraconis snatched his clothing from his son’s grasp. “I located his father’s tent. Conley was not present.”

  “Was his father able to offer you his direction?”

  “Duke Kelandraconis was most reluctant to offer his assistance.”

  Drystan did not like the sound of that. “It is unlawful to come between mates.”

  “I know but it seems yours failed to mention you to his parents. I believe His Grace thought I had taken leave of my senses.”