Ronan: Night Wolves Read online

  Table of Contents

  Ronan-Night Wolves

  Annora’s Dragon

  Bree’s Dragon

  Kerensa’s Dragon

  Noely’s Dragon

  Preview of Taja’s Dragon

  Anya’s Freedom

  Seon’s Freedom

  Rescued by Ryland

  Guardians of Lunar Wasteland 7 Book Collection

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  Table of Contents

  Ronan-Night Wolves

  Bonus Books Section

  Annora’s Dragon

  Bree’s Dragon

  Kerensa’s Dragon

  Noely’s Dragon

  Preview of Taja’s Dragon

  Anya’s Freedom

  Seon’s Freedom

  Rescued by Ryland

  Guardians of Lunar Wasteland 7 Book Collection

  Night Wolves-Ronan

  Night Wolves – Book 2

  By Lisa Daniels

  Chapter One

  Bethany was convinced her sister wouldn’t last a week. Whatever had possessed Mother and Father to cart off Kiara to a foreign city to marry? Kiara wasn’t built for it. Bethany knew it to be a mistake. How could they sabotage their chance of an alliance by throwing her younger, erratic sister to the wolves?

  Kiara didn’t know half the things she should. She never paid attention in lessons long enough to learn anything, and she just wanted to ride around in the Forest of Light and irritate the groundkeepers and hunters all the time.

  And then they selected Kiara over Bethany. Bethany, the one actually trained to handle such situations, left behind. Expected instead to marry some common merchant, just because he might have deep pockets.

  The carriage rattled around Bethany. She took out a small, glowing hand mirror and inspected her features for any imperfections, looking for a chance to distract herself by doing her own makeup or trimming her nails. She didn’t need a servant for that. Eyeshadow smudged? No. Her blue eyes critically examined her long, dark hair, with sapphire studded hairpins clipping it down. Rosy cheeks? She pinched her left one a few times, just to make sure. Her glow necklace swirled with light, brighter than the mirror, and she pulled off one of her white gloves to check her nails.

  All good. No more modifications needed. She placed the glove back on, buttoned up her fur jacket tighter. Now, just to kill some time while she waited to arrive in Kanthus.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, still seeing her parents’ astonished expressions in her mind, and smiling.

  “But you can’t!” Mother had said, aghast. “We sent Kiara precisely so that you didn’t have to go! You’re too important to waste in a place like Kanthus.”

  “You’d be miserable,” her father had pleaded. “We did this for you.”

  “No,” Bethany had replied. “You did this to rid yourselves of a troublesome daughter. Not because you love me. What were you thinking, sabotaging the alliance we’re trying to forge before we even started it?”

  “Kiara isn’t that bad,” mother had said, but Bethany saw the doubt in her luminous blue eyes. The same eyes Bethany had inherited. Father had murky green—something Kiara took more after.

  Violet, her oldest sister, the proper sister, the one everyone in Fjordan seemed to love, simply glanced at their parents before saying, tentatively, “Bethany does have a point, darling Mother. Kiara is inadequately trained. It won’t be long until we’re invaded. If we don’t have powerful allies, we’re opening our borders to skirmishes.”

  Bethany had stared at her older sister, who nervously brushed down her fluffy, dark hair with a slender hand. Bethany had honestly expected Violet to side with their parents, because she’d always been so obedient. So perfect. Like a little doll you took out to display to everyone else, dressed up in expensive clothes, before placing it back in the cabinet.

  “Bah!” Her father waved a hand. “You underestimate your sister. Besides, she needs to learn how to manage the court at some point. And she wasn’t going to do it by gallivanting up trees.”

  “Send a messenger to Kanthus. Tell them I’m coming. Because unlike you, Father, I intend to save Fjordan. And my sister. I’m going. And I’ll secure an alliance. And that’s final. You won’t be marrying me off to Portman. Yes, I’ve seen you eyeing him up because of his business in selling purebred horses…”

  “But you can’t!”

  But Bethany did.

  The message had been sent. And, with her parents’ protests still ringing in her ears, and Violet’s wrinkled expression of concern, Bethany had hopped up into a carriage, opting not to take any servants—poor things would be traumatized, moving to a city like Kanthus—and now Bethany had ample time to decide whether she was doing the right thing, or committing the worst mistake of her young life. Admittedly not that young. Twenty-three and unmarried. If she’d gone another two years, the tradition would have been to throw a bag of flour over the unwed. A shaming ritual designed to encourage women to find a partner before they grew too old to have children.

  Well, not everyone could get married as fast as they wanted. Bethany looked forward to it, certainly—just not that forward. Just seemed a little depressing to her. Not that she ever admitted it to anyone, but the whole notion of just being born, raised to marriage, having children, and then doing the same thing to them had a kind of dreadful finality to it. She wanted something just a little bit more. More than the shimmering Forest of Light, the mountains around Fjordan, and the endless dark skies above.

  Certain tales arrested her as a child. Especially the ones about the sun. The big, glowing orb in the sky. Enough to illuminate everything, bathing it in light, turning the sky a light, crystalline blue. Some stories described it as a blue and white tapestry of smudged colors, others wrote poetry about how beautiful it was and how terribly depressing it became to lose such a thing.

  Most people were fine with the lightweavings providing everything for them. After all, wasn’t their new world beautiful, in a way? Glowing forests and lakes, every building dancing with woven light, every crop fed by heat-enhanced manipulations.

  The one time Bethany shared a fantasy of looking into bringing the sun back, she remembered her mother condescendingly patting her on the head.

  “Sounds lovely, but I think you should focus on more practical things than chasing impossible dreams, my dear. The sun is gone. And you won’t see it coming back.”

  Bethany wasn’t so sure. When she looked up to the sky when it became the least dark—when that tiny corona of red sometimes sliced the dark curtains above—she wondered if it might be the sun trying desperately to return, but it just didn’t know how.

  Foolish notion, of course. She didn’t know about how the sun worked, how many things worked, despite her interest. But she still clung onto that dream nonetheless, years later. Like so many others did before her, and generations likely after her as well.

  “Milady,” one of her escorts said, voice muffled from outside the carriage, “it’s about a week’s ride to Kanthus. We passed the Great Bridge. We’re over halfway.”

  “Excellent.” Though inwardly, Bethany groaned. So much travel time! She peered out of her window after rolling
it down and saw a rather sickly green light mixing up with the trees and bushes. The so-called Quaking Bog, right? An area of land so treacherous that whole carriages could be sucked into the ground.

  Fjordan loved spreading tales like that. About the monsters Kanthus worshipped, the horrible-smelling swamps that surrounded everything, and how the only reason Kanthus managed to repel anything at all was because the enemy kept getting sucked into the bogs.

  Well, if it worked…

  She contented herself with the travel. When she arrived, she would be admitted instantly into the palace. Given nice rooms. She’d meet her sister, who no doubt would be a blubbering wreck, with their alliance on the verge of collapsing altogether. Or maybe she would have found some backbone, and endured her new marriage with some kind of dignity.

  Maybe she did underestimate Kiara’s skills. Bethany sighed, watching as her lightweaving trickled along her arm like a wreath.

  She told herself that she did this for Kiara. She was coming to save Kiara. But really, she came to save herself. Kiara just happened to be the convenient excuse.

  So what did it make Bethany on the inside? A fraud? A runaway escaping to a new place? A person all smiles on the outside, all propriety and noble upbringing, but a wretch on the inside?

  Hopefully Kiara would never find out, and continue looking at Bethany with that shining worship in her eyes, that admiration that Bethany somehow managed to do everything wonderfully.

  Truthfully… Bethany felt envious of Kiara. She managed to keep her spirit, even after years of tutors and royal life trying to grind it down. And Bethany, not knowing any better, thought she needed to do everything her parents wanted.

  Not realizing until too late that they just wanted a neat, living doll to marry off somewhere, and to produce more perfect doll children.

  Bethany’s knuckles tightened in her gloves. She didn’t choose this life. No one really did. It was foisted upon them. And if they adapted and took it on, then good for them. Violet did. Kiara didn’t even try. And Bethany tried.

  And somewhere, she believed she had failed.

  The carriage trundled along. She rubbed her tired eyes, leaning back against the velvet walls. Time to grab a little sleep. Time to prepare herself for her new future. Her heart thudded faster, thinking along those lines. Wondering just what exactly awaited her in Kanthus. Whether the rumors about the monsters were true, or just silly Fjordan gossip, designed to aggravate tensions between them and the aloof kingdom of Kanthus.

  And then she heard the shouts.

  The carriage drew to an abrupt halt, pitching Bethany forward. Her hands slammed into the opposite seat, and she winced from accidentally biting her tongue.

  What in nights? More screams. The sound of steel clashing. Something whooshing. Bethany froze.

  “Milady!” It was the escort, Jason. “We’re being attacked! Come out! Hop onto my horse! We must get you to safety.”

  Bethany snapped out of her frozen state, now pulsing with fear, and she clambered out of the carriage, scrambling onto Jason’s horse. An arrow thudded, inches from the horse’s flank, and whilst Bethany clung to Jason’s waist, he kicked the horse into action.

  No sooner had they traveled about twenty meters before a well-aimed arrow struck the horse, making it suddenly stumble, and they heard the awful crack of bone as the poor beast’s back leg broke. Jason and Bethany tumbled off the horse as it screamed.

  Jason, to his credit, tried hauling Kiara up. Doing everything to get her to safety, except, where exactly was safety? Kanthus was over a night’s ride away. Nothing but bog around them, and the threat of the night hordes if they stepped off the well-woven path.

  One arrow to Jason’s back stopped his attempts at helping her forever.

  She heard people whooping in delight and looked over to see some pulling clothes out of the items cart—intended to be gifts to Kanthus. Expensive clothes, some with gems embedded in them or gold threads embroidered along the seams. Necklaces, rings. Not everyone on the escort team had been killed. Some were being herded up. Four of the ten people who had been responsible for taking Bethany and her goods along to Kanthus.

  The man who had fired an arrow now pointed his next one at her as he approached, his glow necklace lighting his face up in a sinister way.

  “Well, well, well,” he said, brown eyes greedy. “Look wot we got here.” He leered. “You ain’t gonna fight back, are yeh?”

  Bethany shook her head mutely.

  “Good bitch. Right, you get up. Up with the others.” He examined her clothes as she struggled up, and then checked her gem-studded hairpins.

  On second thought, maybe carrying so much wealth wasn’t so good after all. The money she’d taken for spending—gone.

  Everything she owned—gone.

  The man prodded her in the back, forcing her to stumble along to the other captives. She heard jeers, laughs, and saw crying people.

  She wanted to cry herself, to howl, and she was so terrified, her legs could barely make her move forward. She’d just seen someone die. Other bodies lay on the ground.

  “We struck gold this time, boys!” A man with a black hat waved Bethany’s coin bag, grinning triumphantly.

  “Boss—bet it all belonged to the rich bitch here.”

  “Ah…” The leader stared at her, along with the predatory eyes of the others. “A noble-lady, huh?” He bounced towards her. “Looks Fjordan. Wot’s a Fjordan doing all the way out here?”

  “Wot d’you think, boss?” the man with the arrow said in a condescending tone. “Probably getting married to one of the beasts in Kanthus. Supposed to be some kinda alliance between Fjordan and Kanthus now, right?”

  “Right. So we just looted a tribute carriage. Oh well. More for us. Let’s put her with the others. Bet we can sell her for a high price. No touching!” the leader hissed, when a man started to ask something. The man fell silent, looking rather sullen.

  “Virgin tributes sell for a lot,” he said, cuffing the sullen bandit around the ear. “And the people we trade with, they know how to check if you’re a virgin or not.”

  The leader strolled up to Bethany, and she gave a visible tremble, her insides jumping in fright. She didn’t dare speak, in case nothing came out of her mouth except a kind of strangled moan.

  “So, wot are yeh, then?” The leader drew out his sword, still encrusted with red at the tip. The light weaved around it, making Bethany gulp. The leader’s dark, beady eyes focused on her.

  “I–If you take me to Kanthus, your thievery will be forgiven.”

  The leader and his cronies laughed.

  “That it? Really?”

  Bethany tried again. She had been trained to deal with situations like this. She couldn’t let her fear get the better of her, though all she wanted to do was shrink into herself and hunch up her shoulders. “I’m in an arranged marriage with one of the Kanthian gods in the Dome of Delights. I’m Princess Bethany Noble of Fjordan. If I’m discovered missing, the wrath of Fjordan and Kanthus will fall upon you. And it won’t be pretty.”

  The leader’s eyes flickered at her words for a moment, before his face spread into a smile. Not the reaction she expected. Or wanted. “A princess, huh? Well, missy, here’s how it is. We don’t care about yeh fancy schmancy arrangements, and we ain’t scared of no gods. And by the time yeh people realize yeh missing and send people to look, you’ll be long sold. But thanks for saying what ye are. Should fetch a pretty price, right boys? A princess?”

  Answering cheers made Bethany’s heart sink further. Still, she kept up her bravado. Even as the image of Jason’s fallen body slunk into her mind. Even as the fear threatened to take over everything. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “She’s a gobby one, boss,” the bow and arrow man said. “Shall I crack her one?”

  The leader cackled again. “No. Leave her.” He beckoned to his men. One stalked over, carrying an iron collar with a looped chain around his wrist.

  A moment later
, Bethany was wearing the collar. Her hairpins had been pulled out, along with tufts of her hair. And she stumbled behind the other former escorts, whilst the bandits jabbered and laughed around her.

  Ripping her from everything she had planned. Denying her chance to make a new life in Kanthus.

  Chapter Two

  The bandits took a strange path through the swamps. Obviously one they knew well, for it kept them safe from sinking. And when they arrived at the “camp” which resembled an impoverished, ramshackle selection of log buildings, they put Bethany into a wooden cage, with a mangy linen sheet for her to sleep on, and a roof to keep out the rain if it fell, but nothing else. She wrapped the sheet around her to protect herself from the stares as the bandits of the camp came to look at her. They took her glow necklace, leaving her in darkness.

  Some of them jeered and talked about wanting to push her legs apart and take the virgin price for themselves, others just came to look without saying anything. Looking into a sea of hostile faces, knowing that none of them thought her worth a damn, made her lonely, angry, and scared.

  And now she had choices. Shrink away from them? Say nothing, pretend she didn’t see them? Or… make things slightly worse? “You took away my life, angered my people,” she spat, opting to make things worse. Terror and anger saturated her insides. “I’m not helping you any more than I possibly can.”

  In response, some of them threw mud into her cage, until the leader, whose name she caught as Lars, screamed at them to stop. “Yeh want her to catch swamp gout? You meddling idiots.”

  He ordered her sheets changed, and she was forced to change out of her wealthy clothes to tattered, musty-smelling furs. She was allowed a bathroom break and food and drink before returning to the cage, with Lars threatening to gut anyone who dared look at their cash cow the wrong way.

  Filthy, half-collapsed buildings dotted the spongy landscape. The huts which did have light sources had them hanging on the outside as good luck charms against the night hordes. For the bandits lived off the path, out of the cities and towns, camping under the breath of the monsters that lived in the endless dark.