Annabelle Jay - The Sun Dragon

Published by

H ARMONY I NK P RESS

5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

publisher@harmonyinkpress.com harmonyinkpress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

The Sun Dragon

2016 Annabelle Jay.

Cover Art

2016 Stef Masciandaro.

http://www.stefmasc.com/

Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Harmony Ink Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or publisher@harmonyinkpress.com.

ISBN: 978-1-63476-339-4

Digital ISBN: 978-1-63476-341-7

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015912451

First Edition January 2016

Printed in the United States of America

This paper meets the requirements of

ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

For Kristen

F OR YEARS dragons roamed the skies, as common as our modern-day airplanes but much more beautiful in their gliding, soaring thermal choreography. Their land-married earthmates, the humans, watched their sky dances with a mixture of envy and apprehension, always wondering when the powerful dragons might strike. For the most part, the dragons, occupying the mountain land where they fed on goats and formed dragon clans in peace, lived independently of humans.

In the end it was humans, not dragons, who tipped the delicate balance of the mountain and forest dwellers. An army, led by King Ardghail, ventured up the mountains to steal the gold that had waited there since the collision of the continents so many years beforethe gold that composed the dragon lairs where the clans fed, slept, and most importantly, laid their eggs.

When the dragons realized that the humans had come to destroy them, they fought back, claw tearing at sword and fire blazing at shield. They might have vanquished their gold-greedy foes, if not for King Ardghails youngest and least favored son, Prince Roland, who entered the heart of the mountain alone and emerged only after he had killed every single dragon that stood in his way. Prince Roland, later King Roland, became a heroic legend, and tales told around fires and in the beds of children extolled his swordsmanship and bravery. Their leader had brought wealth to his kingdom, and had selflessly saved the lives of thousands of men in exchange for the lives of a hundred dragons.

Or so they thought.

I WAS only two steps down the hallway when the homeroom bell rang, marking the start of the school day and another tardy on my record. My mom kept getting on my case about my grades, especially in math and science, but I couldnt even manage to get into the building without stopping to investigate footprints in the grass or a butterfly with blue and white spots, let alone pass an algebra exam. I couldnt help it; my mind wandered like an astronaut in space, floating uninterrupted until a teacher or one of my friends snapped me out of my trance.

Allanah, what are you doing? a voice asked behind me, and I shook my head as I realized I was at it again, watching a track athlete run laps around the football field through the dirt-dusted window instead of walking through the door. Thank goodness it was my best friend Victoria, who always covered for me when I forgot to answer a question in class or lost my homework on the walk to school.

Spacing out. This is going to be my third homeroom tardy this year, and its only October.

Victoria seemed to think as she ran a hand through her pin-straight black hair, and I watched her fingers jealously. My own haira frizzy mess of red curlswas always stubbornly tangled.

If you get a third tardy, theyll send a note home to your mom.

Shes going to kill me. I hung my head as I pictured my mom coming home from a long day at her law firm only to find a note from Mrs. Henderson about how I cant even get from the bus to room 103 without a guide.

Ive got it. Victoria handed me her hall pass and took my tote bag off of my shoulder.

What are you doing?

You pretend you went to the bathroom, and Ill tell Mrs. Henderson Im late. Just sit in my seatshe takes attendance by calling out our names, not what order we sit in.

But then youll get in trouble!

Victoria rolled her eyes. Im the class president, and I have a perfect 4.0. One tardys not going to make a difference.

Point taken. Thanks. I relinquished my bag, and Victoria hoisted it onto her own shoulder.

Whats in here? Bricks?

Books.

Dont tell me youre back on your fantasy binge again.

Was never off it. But its not just fantasy; its sci-fi, fantasy, paranormal romance

Victoria blew off the rest of my explanation with a wave of her perfectly painted fingernails, which were always purple, just like the rest of her clothes. When I asked her once why she only wore one color, she explained that this way she knew all of her clothes matched and dressing in the morning required only opening each drawer and selecting the item on top. Another one of Victorias logical yet completely ridiculous conclusions.

Dont explain any further. You know, if you focused all of your interest on your classwork instead of useless fiction novels, you might not have a D in three subjects.

Two, I objected. History is a C-.

Whatever. Either way, if you get grounded this summer you wont be able to come to my parents beach house. And you know who else has a beach house at the Jersey Shore. She nudged my shoulder.

Ive told you a million times, I dont have a crush on Jason. I could feel the blush starting in my cheeks and moving to my neck. We were close to homeroom, where all of the high school freshmen with names from J to P sat under Mrs. Hendersons watchful eye from 7:30 to 8:00 a.m., and that included Jason Pierce.

Oh please. And my mom doesnt have a crush on Channing Tatum.

Victorias mom was obsessed with Channing Tatum. She was the only adult I knew who had seen Step Up , and every time I slept over at Victorias house, her mom would try to persuade us to watch one of his movies. The daughter of two scientists, Victoria was actually the least nerdy member of her family, and when she wasnt talking about Channing, her mother normally spent car rides talking about the lab and whatever experiment she and Victorias father were working on. I liked sleeping over at Vics house though; even if her parents were weird, at least they talked to us like adults and to each other like everything out of either of their mouths was the most brilliant comment ever made. I felt like their second daughter, and for Christmas last year they gave Victoria and me the same present: a matching gold locket with a picture of the other person inside.