House of Dragons: Royal Houses Book One

in as their own. She fought here, she made friends here, and despite her past business with Dozan, he protected her within this bed of sin.
“Do you have my winnings?” Kerrigan asked.
“I do indeed.”
Dozan slid his hand into the inside of his tailored black suit. The cut accentuated his muscular build. He wore the white shirt with a black vest and jacket, complete with a Wastes red cravat at his neck. His hand was nimble, producing a red velvet bag heavy with gold marks, just like the ruthless pickpocket who had taken over the underground.
“Here you are.” He set the bag in her hand. It held way more than what she should have earned. His almost-golden eyes glittered with defiance, as if waiting for her to suggest that it was too much money.
She did no such thing. She pocketed the bag and ignored the way he ran a hand back through burnished hair that showed more red than brown in the light. Not at all like hers. Not that she would ever admit to paying attention.
“You should consider working bigger fights,” Dozan said. “Use more than one element.”
Using only one element in the Dragon Ring kept her safe. She did it to keep a target off her back. Half-Fae and humans were notoriously low with magic use, but not her. She had access to all four elements. And the last thing she wanted was anyone else to know about her elemental prowess.
“I appreciate the offer, but no.”
“I could make it worth your while,” he said silkily. His gold eyes practically glowed in the light.
She swallowed against his infuriating charm.
“I believe that you would,” Kerrigan said dryly. “But no.”
He stepped toward her. Close enough that they shared breath. She held her ground, tilting her chin in that defiance he so desired. Dozan only did this to unnerve her, and she refused to play his games. She wasn’t the same young girl who had landed at his feet five years ago. She’d never be that girl again.
“You know we could practice with… your other power,” he all but whispered against her lips.
Kerrigan narrowed her eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Haven’t had a dream recently, princess?”
Her body quivered with barely controlled restraint. Her split knuckles ached to ram into his smug face. “I am not a princess.”
“Come on, Ker,” he breathed softly around the edges of her name. “I find your powers fascinating.”
“Just because you saved my life five years ago, doesn’t mean that I owe you a thing,” she hissed.
Dozan’s eyes dragged across her face, as if he were waiting for her to change her mind. But she would never change her mind. Twice in the last five years, she’d had dreams… visions of the future. She had never heard of anyone in all of Alandria ever possessing such a gift. She would know; she had thoroughly perused the library to be sure. Only children’s books spoke of such a gift, and in every one, the poor fairy tale child had been hunted down and slain for their sight. She wasn’t stupid enough to think she would be an exception in reality.
But Dozan had been there that unfortunate night and had never let her forget it.
“Fine.” Dozan shrugged once, returning to his overly cocky state of being. “What will you do with your winnings?”
“Same as usual.”
“Give it all back to me in drinks?”
“Not the worst way to spend the night.”
“Not the best,” he said, twirling a lock of her bright red hair around his fingers with a lascivious smile before disappearing up the stairs.

2
The Wastes
Dozan was… a problem.
He was definitely becoming a problem.
He didn’t like it when his things didn’t do as they were told. And she refused to be his thing or do as she was told. A conundrum that he rarely faced.
Five years ago, he’d saved her life and learned all about her magic and visions. She’d been young and in love. That had been before he had taken over the Wastes… before everything. Then a year ago, she’d had another vision and ended up right back here. He’d gotten her into the fights to give her an outlet. She would thank him if their relationship hadn’t gotten even more complicated. If he didn’t think that he owned her now.
Kerrigan sighed heavily, pocketed the winnings, and went to her corner. She dropped to her haunches and opened up her bag, pulling out clean clothes. She hastily stripped out of her fighting gear and into a pair of loose pants and a crossbody jerkin that cinched tight at the waist.
Despite what Dozan had said, she tugged her headband back down over her ears and rebraided her hair. She had gotten too used to hiding her slightly rounded, telltale, half-Fae ears. She looked at her wan reflection in the faded glass mirror. She pinched her pale cheeks in an attempt to bring some color back into her skin, but it did little. Her freckles stood out in sharp relief against her complexion. The gash at her eyebrow had stopped bleeding, but… she couldn’t hide the fact that she’d been in a fight.
Oh, well. Nothing to be done.
She left the ring and hastened up the stairs. The Wastes had been built in a deep pit. The Dragon Ring resided on the bottom floor, and as she traveled up to the surface, she passed the spectator seating for the fighting ring, the floor full of addicts high on loch, through the haze of heavily perfumed brothels, and to the gambling levels.
Her bright green eyes scanned the smoke-filled room replete with table after table of card and dice games. Patrons desperate to make it rich threw away their last coins on a lark. The Wastes gambling hall was typically packed, but tonight, Kerrigan could barely move through the press of people. With one hand on her winnings, she finally meandered far enough in that she found her target, stopping before a packed card table playing a crowd favorite, Dragons Up.
The dealer