Stoking The Embers: The Dragon Duels, #1

By Laura Greenwood

A deadly game, an unsuspecting competitor, and fire-breathing dragons.

 

Two hundred and fifty people go into the Dragon Duels. One in fifteen come out.

 

When Raine finds herself part of the quarterly Dragon Duels, she has to do everything she can to survive without losing herself in the process. Teaming up with a volunteer from the White Towers is the last thing she thought she'd do, but Cobalt has the information she needs to live to win, and she isn't about to let that slip through her fingers.

 

Escaping from the dragons is only half the battle - does she have what it takes to win the rest?

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Stoking the Embers is book one in the Dragon Duels series, an urban fantasy adventure with a dystopian flare and a slow burn m/f romantic subplot.

 

If you like deadly competitions, low-key magic, dystopian settings, dragons, and slow-burn romantic subplots, start the Dragon Duels series today with Stoking The Embers.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Drowlgon Press
• Release date: Feb 4, 2021
• ISBN: 9781393867593

Laura Greenwood

Laura is a USA Today Bestselling Author of paranormal romance, urban fantasy, and fantasy romance. When she's not writing, she drinks a lot of tea, tries to resist French macarons, and works towards a diploma in Egyptology. She lives in the UK, where most of her books are set. Laura specialises in quick reads, with healthy relationships and consent positive moments regardless of if she's writing light-hearted romance, mythology-heavy urban fantasy, or anything in between. You can find a full book list and more information on her website, or in The Paranormal Council Facebook Group. Happy Reading!

Book preview

Chapter One

Ash rains down from the sky. Somewhere, a fire is blazing and someone is losing another attack. I stare out of the window, searching for the silhouette I know will be there.

Even from this distance, I can see the creature is huge. Large wings flap against the clouds. It gives out a roar and fire spurts from the dragon's mouth, turning the grey sky a burnt orange. I should feel shock, or outrage. Instead, all I have is resignation. This is the way the world works now. We're slaves to the dragons, kept in line by all the things they do.

And there's only one way to escape it. I glance longingly over at the White Towers in the distance. The dragon will be heading back there in a moment, but not to destroy it. It will nest in the mountains on either side.

You're never going to get there, Raine, my sister says, knowing what I'm thinking before I even say it out loud.

I turn to face her. The beautiful blonde hair falls down her back and frames her perfectly formed face. She's everything I'm not. She could get to the White Towers via the Marriage Market, though I know she refuses to go there. Me on the other hand, it's not something that's open to me. I'm not pretty enough, nor am I timid or obedient. Both of those are an issue for the market, and reduce my value too much for it to be worth it. It's a stupid system.

There's nothing for me there anyway. No one ever comes back from the White Towers, and I have too much to live for here. I don't want to leave Mila on her own. If the wrong person catches her, then she could end up at the Marriage Market through no choice of her own. No one checks whether the woman is a willing participant. They don't care.

You're not still thinking about volunteering for the Dragon Duels again, are you? She sighs with exasperation.

No. It's partly a lie. If she wasn't here, then I probably would try and join the mysterious competition. I've heard that winners get the option to join the Dragon Defenders, the guard who help defend the city. They're not very good at it, but something is better than nothing when it comes to the dragons.

But it's not something I'm seriously considering. The chances of me dying are higher than I'm comfortable with, especially when I don't personally know anyone who has come back from the Duels alive to ask about it. No way can I put Mila through that.

Good, they're dangerous.

I know, Mila, I assure her. It was only an idle thought I had years ago. Can we drop it? I'm not sure why she brings it up so much when I've constantly said I'm not going to go through with the plan. As tough as our life is, I enjoy having it.

I try not to let relief show on my face when she nods. I don't want to argue with her.

What do you want for dinner? she asks.

I shrug. What have we got?

Some old rice and maybe some dehydrated chicken.

I wince. That's hardly enough to feed us both and still be healthy at the end of it. Give me a couple of hours, I'll go get some bread.

We can't afford bread, she points out.

Then I'll make a trade with the baker. I'm sure there's something I can do for him.

You're not supposed to use the Arts, she hisses. It's illegal.

I roll my eyes. Everyone does it.

I don't.

I bite my tongue, not wanting to point out that the only reason she doesn't use her Arts is because she doesn't have access to the same powers as I do. Anyone who can use the magic given to us by the Arts uses them. We'd be idiots not to when it's such an in-demand quality.

She shakes her head, but doesn't say anything else. I can understand that. It must be frustrating to live with someone like me. But when the choice is eat or not break the law, I know which one I choose.

I grab my jacket from the table and zip it up, and I'm out the door before she can truly stop me. She'll eat the bread when I get back too. And thank me. This isn't a world where standing by your morals always pays off.

Rather, it never does.

The ash lands on me, dusting my jacket with the stuff. I roll my eyes at it, and push a stray lock of pale blue hair behind my ear. The streets are teeming with people, but that's to be expected. Everyone who lives around here is used to the ash. We may hate it, but there's nothing unusual about it.

Something is always burning, the ash always falls.

I dip into a back alley and along the paths that'll lead to the closest bakery I know of where the baker will deal with the Arts in exchange for bread. Everyone learns who is willing to make a trade and who is more likely to hand someone over to the enforcers, never to be seen again. People change their minds all the time, but it's a risk I'm willing to take. Especially if it means feeding my sister tonight.

My knock echoes loudly on the bakery's back door. It swings open, revealing the portly baker with his ruddy red cheeks.

Raine, he says as a way of greeting.

Smythe, I return. Need anything? There's no point beating around the bush. Even without saying the words, he knows what I mean. Anyone living in the city knows how to talk about illegal things without saying it.

No. And you shouldn't be asking, there are enforcers around tonight. He slams the door in my face.

Great. There are other places I can try, but it's going to get risky if I have to ask more people.

I set back off into the darkening evening. The ash has that effect, making it difficult to make out what's happening in the gloom.

Main street is lined with boarded-up shops. No one wants to own them here, not when there are enforcers walking up and down at all times of day.

I scan the street for them. Smythe says they're out in force, but I can't see any more than usual. There's two over by the old boarded-up tavern, but they're hardly paying any attention to the people on the street.

Hardly out in droves.

A scowl crosses over my face. If Smythe has found someone who does a better deal, then I'm surprised. A loaf or two of bread in exchange for using the Arts is nothing.

I push those thoughts to the side. What does it matter if Smythe has changed his mind about the Arts? The reason behind it isn't important to me, and it shouldn't be.

The most important tip to staying alive in the city, is to keep my attention on my own problems, and my own interests. No one else's.

I turn down the next street, wrinkling my nose at the size of the ash pile which has made itself known outside the miller's house. I don't know him very well, but I've heard he's willing to trade when the occasion calls for it. Given the size of the pile, it does.

I take a deep breath to steady my nerves and rap on the front door