If you had told me a year ago that I’d be utterly losing my mind over horde kings, dragon riders, or horned blood-drinking aliens, I would have suggested your crystal ball needed polishing. But then I read my first Zoey Draven novel, and everything changed. As we breathlessly await her next offering—the second book in her Hordes of the Elthika series—I am so excited to share with you a little sneak peek. If you love angst, grovelling, and your hero . . . ahem . . . pierced in more places than one, mark your calendars!
Excerpt
The thud of someone landing on hard earth made my pointed ears twitch. The red Elthika’s wing raised…
And there was its rider.
Vorakkar.
That was my first thought, which whispered through my mind like a certain thing.
A horde king, like one of the ancient kings who’d roamed our wildlands, a fearsome leader, a merciless warrior.
Though he was no horde king. How could he be?
He was a Karag, who rode on the back of a terrifying Elthika, who had come from across the sea. And I wondered who was insane enough to try to claim an Elthika such as this one.
Its rider stepped forward, his wide palm pressed against the scales of his dragon. I wondered if they felt like pyroki scales, like unyielding metal.
The hush that drenched the crowd was almost too intense. The silence was only broken up by the thud of wings of the patrolling Elthika still flying overhead…and by the booted footsteps of the rider as he approached.
His hair was silver, though his age seemed at odds with the color. The top half of the silky strands was pulled back from his angular face, and the rest fell past his wide shoulders. His jaw was a hardened line, cut so sharply as though with a whistling sweep of a sword, and a long scar ran down his face, curving to his neck.
The scar, however, did nothing to diminish his otherworldly beauty. It only made him more menacing, and I had to fight the urge to flinch when I saw his gaze sweep over us all.
It was disrespectful to look a horde king in the eye unless you were a friend, a blood member of his family, or a mate. And so, briefly, I lowered it on impulse. I’d never met a horde king in my life, had only ever lived in Dothik, but the stories had been imprinted on me from birth.
When I remembered that this was no horde king but a Karag rider, I lifted my chin and looked up. His gaze had moved on, but I saw they were a bright blue…crystalline and icy.
The rider went to the line of travelers going to Sarroth first. He was at least a head taller than all of them, I noticed. I’d thought, foolishly, that riders might have a more sinewy bulk, might be smaller in size. Only to realize I’d been very, very wrong.
He inspected the travelers, walking in a slow line, meeting each and every eye he came across. Remaining utterly silent. And I thought one or two of the Dakkari might wet themselves where they stood, the way they trembled under his inspection.
I didn’t know what he was looking for…but then he gestured back at one of his riders, who came forward and ushered the Sarrothian group toward two of the Elthika with the larger transport saddles on their backs. I didn’t watch them climb up the mighty wings, each unsure of how to ascend, because then he came to us.
The four of us, held apart, going to Grym.
I was at the very end of the line, and he did the same thing as he did to the Sarroth travelers. He inspected the two guardsmen first, his face impassive.
Then he came to the farmer, whose tail flicked again, striking my legs, whose sweaty palm I could feel quake in my nearly numb grip.
Then I heard the soft thud of his boots come closer, crunching earth and gravel, though my eyes were still trained on his Elthika.
When his shadow fell over me, I remembered he was not a horde king…and so I lifted my eyes to his.
Up close, his eyes were even more piercing, even more haunting than I could have imagined. Craning my head back, I held them steadily, determined to show no fear. If he was trying to intimidate us, or to size us up, I wanted to give him no reason to find me lacking.
Something strange happened.
Our gazes held for impossibly long, time slowing. The rider frowned, a subtle and slight downturn of his full lips, as he peered at me more closely, his observation sharpening.
Then in a desperate panic, my heart lurched. I felt the pull of my heartstone magic wiggling in my chest, as if summoned by an unseen force. I nearly gasped as shock withered my veins.
Not here, not here, I thought.
Then where? a mocking voice replied. Not mine. A male’s voice.
His?
Impossible.
Don’t tell me what’s possible, little Dakkari, he replied, his voice a seductive whisper, threading through my mind and body like we were one. Shall I turn your mind inside out and see all your secrets spill?
I felt a surge of magic inside me—my own—and I envisioned a blade.
The connection broke, and I felt it like a cord pulled tight, severed. Relief came.
Suddenly I could breathe again. I bundled my magic up tight, shoving it back, locking it away as I struggled to calm my racing heart. Praying that no one had seen, hoping my eyes hadn’t been glowing.
The rider stared down at me, though I couldn’t read his expression. Behind him, his Elthika’s gaze sharpened on me.
Finally, the rider stepped back, and I almost went limp, as though I was a puppet controlled with strings. My hard swallow felt loud. I realized the farmer boy was trying to shake off my hand because I was holding him too tight, and I let go, feeling cool air rush against my sweating palm.
He was inside my mind, I thought in disbelief.
“I am Alaryk Arn’dyne,” the rider said. His voice sounded as it had in my mind. A rough velvet that made goose bumps spread over my arms. Calm yet cutting. “Rider of Samryn.”
He gestured back to his Elthika, who stomped its legs at the sound of its title, making the earth boom and my bones rattle.
Alaryk Arn’dyne’s gaze cut back to me when he said, “I am the Karath of Grym.”
Shock made me freeze.
Karath.
So this was the king of Grym…
Copyright © 2025 by Zoey Draven.
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Hordes of the Elthika - Recommended Reading Order
(standalone stories with interconnected characters)
