#13 The Dragon King and the Werewolf Princess

Chapter 2 Calix

“What is it, Mag?” I sighed heavily from behind my desk.

“The Guardians found something interesting in the Snow Cap Mountains.” Magnor, my brother and High Captain, said,

“Define interesting,” I grumbled.

“A woman who doesn’t have a mark. She has no identification whatsoever on her body and she won’t give the Guardians her name. She managed to escape twice, once in the back of the snowmobile in handcuffs and once while restrained inside the cell.” Mag informed me.

I looked up from my desk, c*****g an eyebrow at him. I’ll admit, I was slightly impressed.

“And now?” I asked.

“They put her in the heavy chains and that finally seemed to subdue her.” Mag said,

“Fine. Let her stew for a few days, then maybe she’ll be more inclined to tell us her name. Deny her food and water.” I said, waving my hand dismissively as I looked back down at my paperwork.

“You got it.” Mag nodded once before leaving the room.

I sighed and dropped the pen I was holding, staring straight ahead at the now closed door Mag walked through. How could she not have a mark? Everyone inside the dragon realm has a mark, it’s given to them at birth and then again when they come of age. On the day a baby is born, they are branded with the mark of their House.

I pulled up the sleeve of my shirt and examined my own House tattoo, the House of Dragonblood. It’s the image of a dragon eating its own tail with a Crown hovering over top. Underneath that was the ink black image of a bigger dragon, a single dragon, indicating my classification as a Dragon Shifter; a tattoo I was given when I first spoke to my dragon at age five.

Everyone has a mark. Every member of the realm is registered with the Crown. There isn’t an option, there isn’t a choice. No one gets away with being invisible within the realm. It just wasn’t possible.

And, yet, there was a woman in the tower jailhouse right now who had no mark, who was not registered, and who was, in fact, the impossible.

A knock on my office door pulled me from my thoughts. I sighed again and sat up straighter, wiping any emotions from my face.

“Come in.” I grunted.

A woman with long raven colored hair tied back in a series of braids, and ice blue eyes came strolling into my office. She grinned at me and perched on the corner of my desk.

“Did you hear about the crazy lady in the Tower?” She sang.

“Are you referring to the unmarked woman who keeps escaping?” I asked.

“Yeah, the crazy lady. I like her. No one else can break out of our custody, let alone do it twice.”

“Vix, try to sound less impressed.” I grumbled.

“Why? I am impressed. Aren’t you?” She shrugged.

“More annoyed.” I said,

“Are you going to see her?” Vix asked.

“In a few days. She needs to stew for a while first.” I replied, going back to my paperwork to try and get Vix to leave me alone.

“How can you wait that long? Isn’t the curiosity just killing you!” Vix complained.

“Don’t you have other things to be worrying about right now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

Vix grumbled loudly under her breath and jumped off my desk.

“Fine, grumpy pants.” She snapped.

“I am the King, you know?” I glared at her.

“Yes, and I’m your baby sister.” She winked at me from over her shoulder.

“Which is the only reason you are still alive.” I said in a threatening voice.

Vix didn’t so much as bat an eye at me as she danced out of the room.

Over the course of my two-hundred years of life, I’ve had many siblings; younger and older. That’s the way the royal family worked inside the dragon realm, the oldest wasn’t necessarily made the King. My father had a sense about me when I was born and he watched me grow into a young man that he deemed fit to be King. When I shifted into the black dragon, my fate was sealed.

Of my nearly 30 siblings, some have died, others have chosen a life of solitude or joined the ranks of our military, and a few have even joined the likes of the common folks. Two have stayed around and have become my closest advisors.

Magnor and Vix, an older brother and a younger sister. Mag is my High Captain, my second in command, while Vix is my Captain, my second advisor. Mag accompanies me to every meeting, every event, every diplomatic discussion. And, when I can’t be around, Mag takes the reins.

Vix, on the other hand, handles the people, the training, and the military. She has a much different deeminer than Mag and I do, given the fact that she is younger and takes on less of the political responsibilities. They were both Shifters, like every member of the Royal family.

Then there’s Grier, my best friend since childhood. He’s quiet, stoic, and serious; almost never jokes or cracks a smile. I used to be so much different than him, but life happened and now we're more alike than ever. He’s the Queen’s Guardian, or at least he would be, if I had a Queen. For now, he’s another one of my advisors.

Grier was classified as a Guardian, the protectors of dragons, and a Trainor. As a Guardian, he was called to protect the dragons, gifted with enhanced speed, strength, and senses along with heightened reflexes. As a Trainer, he's able to communicate with dragons in their pure form, something unique to only those classified as Trainers.

There were six classes of people within the dragon realm: Trainers, Shifters, Benders, Guardians, Enhanced, and the Dragonhearted. All of our people are known as the Dragonhearted, a name for our species as a whole, and given increased speed, strength, reflexes, and senses; the name comes from our unique heartbeats.

Enhanced are exactly that, Dragonhearted with even more impressive fighting skills, power, and intelligence. Shifters are men and women who turn into dragons; they have a dragon soul within them. Man and dragon coexist, living together in harmony and communicating through emotions and instincts. One day, after the man has lived his or her full life, the dragon will become their permanent form.

Guardians and Trainers work closely with the dragons and each other. Guardians are skilled fighters and protect our species at all cost. Typically, after a dragon commits to its form completely, they also imprint on a specific Guardian and the two are teammates for life; similar to the matebond. They become an ultimate fighting duo. Trainors are exactly that, they train dragons from the time of their first shift. They are the only classification who can speak with dragons in their true form. They train our species to fight, but, more importantly, to show restraint.

Benders are the final group. They are men and women who can manipulate the element of fire. They have upgraded skills like that of the Dragonhearted or Enhanced, but with the added benefit of being able to manifest and control fire, a helpful skill when working alongside fire breathing dragons.

And in the history of our people, no one has ever mated outside of their classification, besides Benders and Enhanced who have been known to mix. Trainers mate with Trainers, Guardians with Guardians, and Shifters with Shifters; it keeps the bloodlines strong and pure. It was a choice made clear to us by our Goddess, Tiamat.

Then, there was the concept of mates, something dragons felt very strongly about. So strongly, in fact, that dragons, unlike other species, never take chosen mates. It’s either their Goddess given mate or no one. Considering our realm was closed off to the rest of the world and could be traveled, from one end to the other, in two days' time, it wasn’t very common to go without finding your mate. Unless, of course, they were dead. Which was problematic since dragons couldn’t produce children with anyone other than their Goddess given mate.

It’s been over a thousand years since the dragon realm had been closed off, since our people had last seen any other species. I, myself, have never known a world other than this realm. Neither has my father. My grandfather was a young soldier during the Viking wars that led to the realm’s isolation.

Now, I’ve been King for more than a hundred years. One hundred years of wearing the Crown without a Queen. It was hell, torture even.

But, as all men do, I endure.

It was dinner time and I didn't dare be late for fear of facing my mother’s rage. I shoved open the heavy double doors to the dining room with a bang, strolling across the room to take my seat at the head of the table. It was a heavy wooden table made from a strong oak tree my grandfather cut down when the realm was first sealed off.

He and my great-grandfather built the castle the royal family calls home by hand, right down to stacking the river stone for each fireplace, milling the wood for all the hardwood floors that spread throughout the mansion, designing and painting the intricate artwork on the ceilings, and furnishing the home with handcrafted pieces.

“Good evening, son.” Former Queen Thora sat her teacup down on the table and smiled up at me.

“Mother.” I replied, kissing the top of her head before taking my seat, “Father.” I nodded towards former King Steffan.

“What is this business about an unidentified female in the Tower?” Father asked, glancing at me from over the edge of his newspaper.

“It’s as you said. The Guardians’ found a woman wandering alone in the Mountain region. She has no markings and won’t give us her name.” I said, accepting a cup of coffee from the wait staff.

“What are your plans?” Steffan asked.

“I’m going to let her sit for a few days and see if the accommodations loosen her tongue at all.” I replied with a shrug.

“You know how I feel about the indirect approach,” Steffan frowned but, after earning a glare from his mate, he continued, “But, you’re the King.”

Vix snorted from across the table and Mag nudged her with his elbow, encouraging her to shut up. Before the conversation could turn ugly, the wait staff filled the room with gorgeous silver trays piled high with food.

And, believe me, dragons could eat.

Boar legs, goat meat, fatty pieces of bacon, mashed sweet potatoes, plump vegetables straight from the royal gardens, fluffy fresh made bread, smooth butter churned just this morning, jelly made from raspberries and blueberries plucked, smashed, and canned by the pound each harvest season, and steaming apple, peach, pear, and pecan pies made by the excellent bakers each day using fruits from trees planted just outside the front door.

All of it consumed by the hour's end only to have more whipped up and ready to go by morning. Our gardners and kitchen staff were truly world class, I don’t care how small our world was.