Sabine thought being sold as a magical slave was the worst thing that could happenâuntil a fearsome dragon chose her.
Claimed by Prince Cole, the ruthless War Dragon and heir to the throne, Sabine braces for cruelty. But behind the brutal exterior lies a man at odds with the future forced upon him and a dragon with plans of his own.
As dangerous magic stirs in the east and royal pressure builds, Sabine and Cole are drawn together in a bond neither expected that could change everything.
Perfect for fans of slow-burn romantic fantasy, reluctant royalty, and dragons with secrets.
Sabine thought being sold as a magical slave was the worst thing that could happenâuntil a fearsome dragon chose her.
Claimed by Prince Cole, the ruthless War Dragon and heir to the throne, Sabine braces for cruelty. But behind the brutal exterior lies a man at odds with the future forced upon him and a dragon with plans of his own.
As dangerous magic stirs in the east and royal pressure builds, Sabine and Cole are drawn together in a bond neither expected that could change everything.
Perfect for fans of slow-burn romantic fantasy, reluctant royalty, and dragons with secrets.
The streets of Vagra flooded with dancers and performers dressed in glittering, colorful costumes, and masks. Musicians pounded drums and shook rattles, and fireworks illuminated the sky. Thundering explosions echoed overhead, shaking the cobblestone streets as red, blue, green, purple and gold sparks danced between the stars.
âKeep your head down and walk.â
The thick end of a club struck the back of my head. I stumbled forward, caught myself amidst the clinking chains, and kept shuffling. My ankles bound with shackles, so each step was slow and lumbering with the line of slaves chained before and after me.
The rest of the country enjoyed a wondrous celebration with dancing, feasts, and merriment. For us slaves, celebration was a distant memory, and this festival included an auction. According to my master, I was the main event.
Royal guards patrolled the underground hallways lined with iron barred cells packed full of filthy, broken spirits. The guards and masters would present us to nobles looking for a new pair of hands to order around, and those left unpurchased became fighters in the next gladiator games.
âWait, not her.â My master stopped the guard as he shoved me into the cell with the others. âI want her in a private cell. A magical slave is worth a lot, and I donât want her bruised. Injuries bring down the price.â
The guard nodded. He unchained me from the others and pulled me along the corridor to an empty cell. The door clanged closed, and the guard smirked through the bars.
âI bet sheâs a real beauty under that grime. A noble will pay a high sum for whatâs between her legs. If you want to make extra money, Iâll give you three hundred gold for a moment alone with her before the auction.â
I cringed and turned away from the guardâs gap-toothed grin, staring at the moldy, damp wall of the cell. The guardâs keys jangled and creaked as he unlocked the door.
âNot a chance! Sheâs more valuable for her magic and not to be touched, got it?â
The guard scoffed. âSheâs worn out, anyway.â
My shoulders relaxed and I let out a long breath. The capital was a new world, and I didnât know the rules. My master came to the bars and beckoned me. He reached through and grabbed the collar around my neck. A clunky, iron ring imbued with magic to keep me from running away and from casting spells, unless my master allowed it.
âDo anything to embarrass me again, and Iâll sell you to a brothel where the royal guards like it rough.â
âI wonât.â
âDamn right, you wonât. We wouldnât want a repeat of your greatest mistakes, right?â He ran the butt of his whip along the cell bars.
I nodded and bowed my head, not wanting to look at his fat, round, greasy face anymore. He loomed over me for more than ten years, but unlike other masters, he preserved my body for the sake of my magic and allowed me to study spells benefiting his agenda.
One spell went wrong, and I lost his favor.
Wincing, I looped my arms around my ribs, still bruised from the beating he gave me, but he didnât touch my arms or face, or anything visible with clothes.
The arena above echoed with roars and cheers of the crowd mixed with awful animal snarls and growls combined with clanging steel. Gladiator games to purge unwanted slaves and prisoners.
âAlright, you scum, time to get into the ring and pray to The Dragon the nobles are feeling generous with their purses. Otherwise, itâll be you in the fighting rings next.â The disgusting guard tapped his spear against the cell bars as he walked by, clanging the metal and shaking the entire dungeon with concussive force.
The guards herded the other slaves onto a raised platform.
One guard held me back. âYouâre going up on your own.â He smirked and waggled thick, black eyebrows.
The platform trembled and large ropes fed through pulleys lifted it off the floor. The ceiling opened as the platform rose into the large amphitheater. Dirt sprinkled from the ceiling, plunking against the guardâs armor and clinging to my hair.
With a shaky descent, the platform returned empty, and the guard pushed me onto it. As soon as the platform surfaced, another guard grabbed my arm and hauled me to a post in the center of the ring. He fastened the shackles around the pole, pulling my arms behind my back. The other slaves stood in rows on either side, and the slave masters walked the rows, poking and prodding at their merchandise. None of the slaves moved or uttered a sound.
Commoners who liked to watch filled the amphitheater stands. They couldnât afford a salve but enjoyed the spectacle. Straight ahead of me cabanas shaded the nobles where they had the best view of the auction. At the center of the noble section a large, golden cabana marked the Agyion royal family.
The auction began and, one by one, the slave masters described their merchandise, talking up their abilities. Nobles sent emissaries with their bids and slave after slave went back to the dungeon for their new masters.
With every sale, my masterâs eyes glowed. He was hungry for a big pay out, and he would get creative in his saleâs pitch to start a bidding war. The capital was full of free mages, if gossip was to be believed, but a magical slave was different. Someone who had to do whatever their master asked, whatever spells or magic. Free mages could deny services and requests, and work on their own time.
As grotesque as I found my masterâs plan to use my magic as a selling point, magic saved me from a worse fate.
When I was nine, a low-level thug approached my mother for spells to further his ambitions, and she refused. When they left, she told me it was dangerous for women to have special gifts because men would want to exploit them. I thought that was the end, but the thug returned with his underlings, and they overpowered her.
They ransacked the house and found me. I defended myself with magic, and the leader spared me, slapping a negating collar on and I was his property since.
As a mage he gave me priority over other slaves, sold my abilities as a service and used them for his goals. It spared me from ending up in a brothel or becoming a hard labor slave.In the end, what saved me condemned me. My master forced me to make a love potion for him.
The auction was my punishment for failing.
When he made a fool of himself with his intended, no pleading about tricky spells could change his mind. My usefulness had run its course.
âI have a special treat for you today.â My masterâs voice filled the amphitheater as he circled around the post. âHere, I have a rare bloom. A magical slave, one bound to servitude and who must do whatever you wish. I let her study magic, and she is indeed powerful.â
The nobles rippled with gasps and inaudible murmurs as coin purses jingled.
âImagine a mage at your beck and call, to always fulfill your needs, no matter what they are.â He pressed a riding crop to the front of my torn, filthy attire and smirked as he wiggled the leather tip against my bosom down to my stomach.
I clenched my fists behind the post and held my breath. Any unwanted display of emotion and my ribs wouldnât be the last bruises he gave me.
âAn accomplished mage you can use her as a defense shield, to spice up your home menus, or to grow your profits. She can do it all.â
Coins jangled louder and the noise in the stands rose as nobles talked over each other. The bidding war my master wanted would erupt any moment.
Closing my eyes, I wished it would end soon. Wherever I ended up after this, it didnât matter. My life didnât belong to me.
âIf you care for a demonstration of her power...â
Hushed gasps rippled through the audience, and a few yelps echoed in my ears as a dark shadow descended on me, and heavy wing beats drowned out the crowd.
My heart galloped and I opened one eye to find a massive, scaly beast drop into the ring.
The slave masters jumped out of the way and people in the stands tripped over themselves and each other. The dragon landed before me and folded his wings, his clubbed tail whipped back and forth near the royalsâ cabana. Deep crimson scales flickered with the light of exploding fireworks.
My bones trembled and I struggled against the shackles, but the chains refused to budge. The metal dug into my skin, slicing the outer layers until blood oozed around rusted bindings.
The dragon lowered his head, fixing me with a yellow eye rimmed in spiked scales. This was Talon, the crimson dragon bound and devoted to the War Dragon, crowned prince of Telasia. Talon licked his lips and leaned in, parting his massive jaws. Warm breath blasted me like a fierce wind, my hair whipping around me. Sharp teeth as long as my body obscured my field of vision, his gaping maw and forked tongue blocked out everything else.
I stopped struggling and looked straight into the endless dark gullet ready to swallow me. Being devoured by the massive beast was more appealing than a new master.
Cheers around the amphitheater drowned out the tearing and ripping of lion teeth through cloth and flesh. Trembling slaves and half-starved prisoners who couldnât grip a weapon were no match for hungry beasts, but the stands erupted with applause and shouts with each round of slaughter.
The sun moved agonizingly slow toward the far horizon.
When the games ended, a slave auction followed, an event as boring as the so called gladiator sports, and the night would end with a feast. Only then would I have an opportunity to make my escape.
Escape where? Talon asked.
To the front lines. That should please you. I leaned back in my seat and hooked my hands behind my head.
I like it here.
Since when?
Talon didnât reply.
His silence and cryptic thoughts werenât unusual, dragons didnât think like humans. Ever since I tamed him when he hatched, he kept me guessing. But I trusted his instincts. In my youth, my fatherâs golden dragon, Amonette, laid a crimson egg, and as everyone in my family for the past five hundred years, I was expected to tame the dragon hatchling or die trying. At five, I was the youngest to succeed.
âDo you want to stay much longer?â Dulcey asked. She leaned her breasts against my arm and batted thick eyelashes.
For the celebration, she painted her lips bright crimson, matching Talonâs scales, and wore a tight dress cinched around the waist, making her breasts pop.
I let my gaze linger on the round globes of her cleavage for a long moment. âUntil the feast.â I turned my attention to the slave auction.
âIâm bored,â she said jutting out her lower lip and huffing.
âYouâre not obligated to be here.â
Dulcey pulled away and tapped long, painted fingernails on the chair arm. A repetitive click filled the cabana.
âIs that necessary?â Rosalie shot Dulcey a sharp look. âI know youâre my brotherâs current flavor, but you are still a guest in our cabana, and Iâd prefer if you didnât make that sound.â
Dulcey stopped tapping, and crossed her arms and legs, bouncing a leg on her knee. Her eyes darted to me repeatedly.
Ignoring her was preferable. Unless I had her sprawled on a bed beneath me, she hardly existed but the king watched me at these events, so I brought an arm ornament to settle his mind.
She leaned on my arm again and kissed my neck with warm, wet, pillowy lips. Lithe fingers danced along my thigh in slow strokes.
When I didnât respond, she huffed. âWhy arenât you any fun today?â
âIâve been traveling for weeks and want to relax.â
âExactly.â She licked her lips and squeezed my thigh tighter. âYouâre insatiable when you come home. Iâm going to go. Do you want to come?â Dulcey tilted her head in my direction and bit her lower lip.
âThe auction isnât over yet.â
âAre you kidding?â
I shook my head.
Dulcey scoffed and stomped out of the cabana. Sheâd find me again later, like she always did.
The number of slaves in the ring diminished. Despite the legality of slavery in Telasia, we didnât keep them in the palace. Half-starved, filthy shells shuffling around with no minds of their own made for sloppy workers. The palace needed servants who could think and make decisions.
They arenât mindless and submissive, Talon said. He added a memory from my teen years, watching a slave boy fight against nobles picking on the commoners in the capital streets.
I didnât forget.
âCole, if you insist on treating your concubines like they donât exist, youâll never find a wife,â King Talis said. He leaned across his seat until our eyes were level.
âI would never marry a concubine.â I slouched in my seat.
âYouâve got to marry someone. A crowned prince needs heirs.â My father stroked his white-bearded chin.
âAll in good time.â
The hilt of a sword rested against his seat with a silver pommel, and a golden dragon replicant of Amonette coiled around it. The dragons in my family deserved respect but Amonetteâs special magic came at a high cost to the rest of us.
They called him Dragon of the Heart. Anyone who tamed a dragon received the honorary title of âDragonâ in a name describing their dragonâs abilities.
âThe throne and family will be in your hands one day. Are you ready for the responsibility?â He asked.
âYouâre only in your seventies, Sire. Why rush to abdicate? Amonette gives you many more years.â Which meant he had decades left to pester me.
âHmm. I donât understand why youâre waiting.â
âTalon and I are traveling to and from the battlefields every week. Thereâs no time to find a wife.â
He pursed his lips. âYouâre crowned prince of Telasia, you wonât have to look hard. By the time I was your age, I had two sons.â
âBoth of whom failed to tame a dragon and ended up in an early grave.â
The king straightened and returned his attention to the auction. King Talis finished having children before Rosalie, Alistair, and I were born. Unfortunately, his eldest children either didnât tame dragons or died in Telasiaâs army, and his first wife dead in childbed left him few options. He took a second wife and started a new family, fathering five more children, three of whom survived the dragon taming.
âIf youâre opposed to finding a wife, you can still produce heirs. Continuing the family line is imperative.â
I rested my elbow on the chair armrest and pressed my cheek to my fist. As if I didnât understand the importance of an heir. It was an Agyion family tradition to have large broods because of the dragons. Survival rate in dragon taming was low and the king and heir needed large enough families for at least one child to reach adulthood and continue the line. My father thought the earlier I got started, the more likely Iâd have a successful heir.
You have no desire to obey him, Talon said.
No, I donât, given how long he has left.
âI have a special treat for you today,â a slave master boomed from the amphitheater ring.
Every slave was sold except one, a girl chained to a post while her master strutted around, flaunting her abilities, tempting nobles with a demonstration.
If sheâs the last, we can return to the palace, I said to Talon.
Wait. This is important.
A streak of crimson bolted through the orange-blue twilight sky.
âDammit, Talon!â I jumped to my feet and raced to the edge of the cabana.
âCole, what is your dragon doing!?â King Talis rose, sword in hand, the decorative golden dragon glinted with firework explosions.
Talon descended into the ring in front of the slave girl. Claim her as yours. Talon said.
I have no use for a slave girl, Talon.
Claim her. I want her!
âCole, get that beast of yours under control. Heâs causing panic in the crowd,â my father said thrusting his arm to the side.
Now he wanted me to control Talon? He never asked me to on the battlefield.
Commoners and nobles clamored around the stands rushing to the nearest exits. They tripped over each other, food and drinks tossed to the ground. A cabana slouched and fell into the ring.
Talon, youâre making a scene. I left the cabana and headed to the amphitheater. What did this girl have to catch Talonâs interest? His intrigue and curiosity nagged me. Closing my eyes, I connected with him to see the girl through his dragon gaze, but she was a filthy, half-starved slave, nothing more.
Claim her as yours, and Iâll leave.
What is special about her?
She is special, itâs in her eyes.
Thatâs vaguer than usual.
âLower your weapons and back away, slowly,â I said when I got to the ring.
The guards cowered; trembling spear tips held toward Talon. At my order they backed away. One dropped his spear and ran at full speed. Telasiaâs royal guard couldnât handle the sight of a dragon. I blew a puff of air out of the corner of my mouth.
Alright, let me see her.
The girl was unkempt, her smock tattered and ragged, hanging off her shoulders and hips. She was bony and pale, hair color obscured by filth and grease. Nobles were tempted by magical slaves, but the palace had free mages for my use. She stared into Talonâs open mouth, eyes steady, body still.
Alright, Iâll make the arrangements. If your curiosity is satisfied, return to the palace. I clapped a hand on Talonâs leg.
He grunted and launched into the air.
What use would this tattered person be in a palace filled with powerful mages, and servants dressed in fine silks?
Here's a quick snapshot of why I think you should read Serpent's Chains:
- The world its set in is intriguing: A brutal, dragon-ruled empire built on conquest, where slave auctions are as popular as festival fireworks
- Sharp blend of court intrigue, morally grey choices about power, freedom, and trust (Think court formality with dark humor and longing)
- Slow burn (I am talking charged glances, guarded confessions, and forced proximity intimacy)
- Broody war Dragon prince
-Endearing dragon who is wise, stubborn, and cryptic
-Heroine whose greatest weapon is her refusal to lose herself
-Lush and chilling world-building
I love everything this author is doing, but the description dump so early on in the novel is a hard pill to swallow- especially before the plot really starts kicking in (some readers may abandon ship). For the experienced fantasy girlies, the âslave girl & princeâ trope and bath scene can be a bit clichĂ©. Talonâs cryptic motives and Sabineâs moral stance can add some drama, but the broad arc is not that unique.
Sabine, as a character, may frustrate some in the initial stages as she is so monotone. Maybe including some of her inner thoughts/monologue may help readers understand her. Some segments felt repetitive- broken spirit- show her spark etc etc (we get it girl- we do).
This book would appeal to fans of Grace Draven and Danielle Jenson who enjoy morally tangled fantasy about power, slavery, and reluctant love.
Here are some of my favorite quotes from the books:
âCouldnât? Donât you mean wouldnât? Odd behavior for a slave.â
âClaim her. I want her.â
Thank you to Reedsy Discovery and the author for providing me with an Advanced Reader Copy (ARC) in exchange for my honest review. To see more of my reviews, feel free to drop me a line on Instagram @jessicareadsit.