The King’s Dragon | W.M. Fawkes & Sam Burns
Fire and Valor #1
Release Date: September 26, 2019
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Cover Artist: Natasha Snow
Lord Tristram Radcliffe has a secret—he is the only dragon at the king’s court in Llangard. It’s a secret he’s kept from the knights he’s fought beside, from the ladies who bat their lashes at him, and from his closest companion, Prince Reynold. If it were to get out, he’d be banished to the Mawrcraig Mountains along with the rest of his kind, but the kingdom of men is the only one he’s ever known, and his heart lives in the stone halls of those who’d count him an enemy.
When the old king dies and Prince Reynold takes the throne, two visitors from the north throw Tristram into the middle of the ancient conflict between dragons and men. They put him on a collision course with the king’s shadow, Bet Kyston, a dangerous assassin who may want him dead or may want more of Tristram that he’d ever thought to give.
With the eyes of dragons upon him and a threat from the north creeping toward the home he loves, Tristram must weigh his allegiances before his dual legacies tear him apart.
“Could you get me some wine, Alf?” His squire’s eyes went wide, and with good reason. Tris never drank wine before or during tourneys. He stuck to watered ale that didn’t dull his senses. At the moment, though, the important thing was calming his nerves.
The best of squires, Alf nodded and ran off instead of asking questions. It was obvious enough why Tris was asking for the stuff. He just had to toe the line of calming himself without getting intoxicated.
He caught motion from the corner of his eye, and his head snapped up to make sure he wasn’t in danger. When he took in the motion’s source, danger remained to be seen. His Majesty’s shadow, Bennet Kyston—known to everyone as simply Bet.
There wasn’t a person alive who invoked more turbulence in Tris. He was dangerous, obviously. Tris didn’t know what he did for Rey—for the king—but no one spoke of it in polite company, which included himself. He seemed perpetually angry, and seemed to particularly dislike Tris.
On the other side, the man was beautiful beyond all, and no one seemed to notice it. Those shining dark curls and intense black eyes, the way his lips curled up in a combination of smile and sneer when he felt . . . emotions of whatever kind it was he felt.
But not right then. Bet’s expression was blank as he marched right up to Tris, grabbed his chin and tipped it to the side so that he could inspect his face, specifically the side that Jorun had nearly removed. “The eye?” he asked tersely.
Tris blinked for a moment before he realized he was supposed to answer. “Fine. It’s fine. Are you—” How could he ask if the man was concerned about him without seeming ridiculous? “Is something wrong?”
Bet wore an unfamiliar scowl, with no hint of that smile to tame the curl of his upper lip. Tris didn’t think he’d been at fault, but Bet’s sneer could make a man apologize for being born. It was all he could do to keep his mouth shut.
After a long, silent moment, Bet nodded sharply and turned to march off.
When Alf came back with the wine, Tris downed the goblet, sobriety be damned.
About The Authors
W.M. Fawkes is an author of LGBTQ+ urban fantasy and paranormal romance. She lives with her partner in a house owned by three Halloween-hued felines that dabble regularly in shadow walking.
Sam Burns lives in the Midwest with husband and cat, which is even less exciting than it sounds, so she’s not sure why you’re still reading this.
She specializes in LGBTQIA+ fiction, usually with a romantic element. There’s sometimes intrigue and violence, usually a little sex, and almost always some swearing in her work. Her writing is light and happy, though, so if you’re looking for a dark gritty reality, you’ve come to the wrong author.
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