Dragon’s Guardian by Ava Richardson (Alveria Dragon Akademy Part 3: Reign of Chaos Book 1)
English | 2020 | Fantasy | ePUB | 3.1 MB
Only a fearless hero can bond with a dragon…
After three unsuccessful terms at Alveria’s Dragon Akademy, seventeen-year-old tamer trainee, Mari Asadottier, has one last chance to bond with a dragon. If she fails, her dream of joining the Dragon Guard will be over for good.
Normal life is impossible for Prince Kai Afkarr-Younger who has been stuck in his dragon form for two years. Unable to shift, he fears he will lose control of his magic as his draconian instincts grow more powerful.
When a sickness is spreads through the land and new monsters terrorize Alveria, Mari and Kai might be the only people who can stop it. But Mari’s hiding a secret connection to the beasts, and it may already be too late. Can they form a bond and stop Alveria from falling into chaos?
Mari Asadottir was running out of time.
She paused at the edge of the dining hall, out of the thick of the crowd, to draw a deep breath and force her clenched fists to relax. Working herself into a panic wasn’t going to help anything. She just had to find Master Farrah. Master Farrah knew better than anyone how hard Mari had worked these past three years, how determined she’d been to forge a dragon bond. If anyone could be persuaded to give Mari a little longer at the Akademy, just a little longer, it would be her.
She pushed herself up on her tiptoes, peering over the milling guests for a glimpse of her mentor. Mari was tall, and so was Farrah; ordinarily, her silver hair and regal bearing would have made her easy to spot, especially in a master’s white robes. But this evening the dining hall was packed with distinguished company, a sea of scholars and politicians and nobility, and the masters had been swallowed up among them.
Mari took another deep breath and plunged into the crowd, dodging around knots of conversation with a deferential smile, searching, searching. Her black trainee uniform drew a few curious glances. This wasn’t one of the events students had been invited to, much less the uninitiated. Between her height and her coppery hair, she didn’t exactly blend in, and she was risking a reprimand, turning up here. That wouldn’t help her case. But after today—as of nightfall, specifically; she’d checked and double-checked the rules—any trainee still unpaired with a dragon would be marked a failure and cast out. She wasn’t about to curl up meekly and let that deadline slide past. This was her last chance. Her hands curled into fists again around the edges of her sleeves.
She threaded her way between voluminous skirts, dodged extravagant feathers trimming hats, stepped around trailing cloaks. Around her, excited voices laughed and debated and speculated over arcane details of history and politics and translation and linguistic theory. A new prophecy—the first prophecy—had to have huge import for all of Alveria. It would be unveiled to everyone tomorrow, or at least the piece they’d been able to recover. But this reception was for the academics in particular, who had seized the prospect of new material with the enthusiasm of sharp-toothed sawfish presented with fresh meat. Even after this week’s celebrations, the Akademy would be hosting a list of receptions and lectures and symposia that extended well into next year.