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Stone of Shadows: Sample

In the glittering courts and shadowed alleys of Gereon, an invisible boy crosses paths with a haunted noble—and nothing is simple again.

This is the opening chapter of Stone of Shadows, Book 1 of Stories of Gereon—a noblebright fantasy about found family, loyalty, and love that refuses to bow.

Read on, then continue with the Special Edition hardcovers, duplex paperbacks, or special edition ebooks.

Rating: G
Estimated reading time: 7 minutes
Books in series: Stone of Shadows (book 1), Boy of Shadows (book 2), Prince of Shadows (book 3), Realm of Shadows (book 4). Series is COMPLETE.

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Read on below…

Will’s day rapidly went from bad to worse to ‘I am definitely, undoubtedly, going to die’. Hanging in the harsh grip of a dragon, the wind whooshing past his ears and watching the lands below go from small to tiny beneath them, he was certain he would not get out of this. Already, the humans below—including Tristan and his cronies—appeared more like ants than as people. Will swallowed back the meager contents of his stomach, although if he threw up, he hoped it would land on Tristan’s dumb, aristocratic head.

Bad days weren’t out of the ordinary. Every day was a bad day.

This one started as his days usually did: waking in the crowded, dingy room he shared with his mother and three younger siblings. Dry, days old bread was on the menu for breakfast, and he scraped off the mold off one side of it before downing his share in two swallows. Stomach still growling, he walked out the gates of Gereon. The guards watched him like hawks with greedy eyes, just awaiting an excuse to stop him and beat him, but this morning they made no move.

Someday, Will would walk to work with a full belly and with no angry gazes following him.

Someday.

He never blamed his ma for the lack of food in their home, nor for their meager lodgings, or even for forcing him to work instead of going to school. Ma never studied and would never learn to read. Will had at least been allowed to learn both reading, writing, and basic math before being forced to quit to provide for the family.

Work comprised working in the fields, doing whatever the manager said needed doing over the warmer half of the year, and getting paid a single bronze coin at the end of each day.

And getting tormented by Tristan and his cronies.

Tristan, the son of Overster Arrington, was tall, muscular, and had probably never gone hungry a day in his life. Fortunately, he only tagged along with his father to the fields once a week. Unfortunately, today was one of those occasions.

“Oh, look, it’s the street rat,” Tristan hissed at him as soon as his father headed off in another direction. “You know what I do with rats?”

“Yes, you’ve told me before,” Will muttered, though he was perfectly aware it was loud enough for Tristan to hear. “Don’t you remember?”

Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “Do you dare to speak back at me, you lowlife?”

Will had yet to look up at him, but now he did, squinting against the early morning sun lighting Tristan from behind. Tristan was handsome, no doubt about it, with his broad shoulders and deep brown eyes, and if it had only been a matter of staring at him, Will wouldn’t have a problem. Every time Tristan opened his mouth was another matter entirely.

“You spoke to me first,” Will said, raising his chin just a smidge, defiance running through his veins. He shouldn’t talk back at Tristan, but there was something about the boy that made Will’s blood boil.

“I could tell my father about you.” Tristan’s hands waved at the two boys flanking him, both bulkier than him, and Will tried to prepare himself for what was coming. Why didn’t he just keep his mouth shut? Why did Tristan make his insides burn? “I could have you fired for your insolence. But I think I’ll take care of you myself.”

He always did.

Or rather, he had his friends do it. Tristan would never sully his own hands with dirt like Will.

The punches started, the two boys behind Tristan taking obvious pleasure in their fists connecting with Will’s bony flesh. Each fist slamming into him made stars—unpleasant, horrible, white-hot stars—explode inside Will’s body. Would this be the time they went too far? He grunted as another fist struck him, or perhaps it was a foot? Obscenities rained down on him in time with the hits.

Will tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth.

He slackened, hoping they would cease—perhaps even get frightened—if he collapsed.

When Tristan’s voice rang out—“That’s enough, boys”—and Will tried to find his breath.

“Perhaps this time he’s learned his lesson,” grunted one of Tristan’s cronies.

Tristan’s voice was much posher than his friends’. “I doubt it. The filth from the streets will not learn so easily.”

Will believed—hoped?—that would be the end of the misfortunes of the day, that he could simply work his shift until the sun set and he was allowed to return home with his coin.

That was when the dragon made its appearance.

Huge and scaly, the tips of its wings so far apart it would have taken a while to even walk the same distance. The dragon glistened in the sunlight.

“Dragon!” one of Tristan’s boys yelled pointlessly and took off as fast as his legs could carry him, the other following suit.

Tristan stared at the dragon. At first, Will thought it was because it fascinated him—but as the dragon came closer and Tristan had yet to move, Will caught the frozen fear on the other boy’s face. Tristan stood rooted to the spot, eyes so wide they might pop out at any moment, his mouth hanging open and his breaths coming in ragged, as though he was running despite standing still.

The dragon approached rapidly, its orange eyes set on Tristan.

Will got to his feet, spitting out blood, and grabbed Tristan. “Come on! We need to go!”

But Tristan stumbled over his own feet as Will tried to pull him along. Will wanted to let go, to leave his bully behind to be eaten by the dragon, but… curse the beast, he couldn’t. He held back a scream of frustration, because he should already be at the border of the forest, hiding away. Leave Tristan to get a taste of his own medicine, becoming dragon food—

Despite himself, Will hoisted Tristan up over his shoulder.

But it was futile, because Tristan was heavy and Will was thin and bone-tired already.

They may have gotten ten steps before Will stumbled, Tristan falling to the ground and rolling away. Will’s knees slammed into the ground with pain so intense it made black dots dance in front of him.

The dragon’s talons closed around Will.

One second, Will was on the ground, the next he soared across the field, sharp dragon claws slicing into his bare arms, though Will barely noticed because his knees still felt like they had exploded into a million tiny shards.

He glimpsed Tristan still on the ground, scrambling around to look with wide, shocked eyes at Will and the dragon. Or probably just the dragon, because why would Tristan give a single care about Will when he never had before? He would probably throw a party in his family’s fancy house tonight, regaling the story of how he escaped a dragon single-handedly, while the filth from the streets was dumb enough to be captured.

But in the haze of pain and amidst the ice cold fear gripping him, the thoughts of Tristan faded. Soon enough, it wouldn’t matter.

Where would the dragon take him? Would they go to Dragondale? Was that the last place he would ever see? He had been curious about it, but he was smart enough never to go there—those who were stupid and brave enough to go there were few, and fewer yet returned.

Perhaps the dragon would have him as a mid-air snack and never take him anywhere.

The dragon rose even higher and in the distance, the mountains loomed. Even at the height of summer, the tops of the mountains were white with snow. Nothing about them was inviting.

Why did he save Tristan? He should have left the rotten jerk to die. It should have been Tristan who hung here in the dragon’s talons, getting his arms sliced up as he waited for dragon teeth to sink into his flesh…

Sixteen. Will had hoped he would live longer than sixteen. Not that people of the streets of Gereon generally grew into old age, but… seventeen hadn’t seemed impossible. It was just weeks away.

He craned his neck to catch a glimpse of his home. Gereon was already so far away, from the great wall surrounding it and the houses traveling up the slope of the mountain and ending with the royal castle, the city faded in the distance as though his life there was merely a figment of his imagination.

Will bid his life a quiet farewell.

What would happen to his ma now that he was gone? To his siblings, none of them really old enough to work in the fields? Jamie would take it upon himself to provide, quitting school and going to the fields in his place—exactly what Will had hoped to stop.

Disappearing into memories, Will lost track of time as they soared across the sky.

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