“She’s gettin’ pissy, Kyna.”
“That she is, Kennis.”
“So we better get her up and ready so we can get a move on.”
Fed up, Ghleanna nearly roared, “I don’t want to see Rhiannon! So get the f**k out of my cave!”
Kyna crouched down low so she could look Ghleanna in the eyes, one side of her snout pulling back to show row after row of deadly fangs, many having shown up as she’d aged.
“Now listen up, little girl. You can talk to your father and brothers like that if you want—but you’ll not talk to us that way. And when the queen gives you an order—”
“—you get off your ass and you follow it. Or by the gods—”
“—we’ll make you wish you had.”
Ghleanna understood now why the Cadwaladr Twins had been sent to fetch her. Although many of her siblings would put up a good fight, only her brothers Bercelak and Addolgar really had a chance at taking her, but neither would because she was their sister. The same with her father. And her mother was a peacekeeper, not a fighter. So her kin had sent the most feared Dragonwarriors in the land, the Cadwaladr Twins. Old She-dragons they might be, but that only made them more dangerous—and unstable.
“You coming, girl?”
“Yes,” Ghleanna hissed, using her front claws to push herself all the way up. It took a moment for the cavern to stop spinning and another moment for the nausea to pass. But once they did, she was ready to at least get into the lake outside and bathe.
“What does Rhiannon want with me anyway?” she asked, heading outside with the twins right behind her, debating on whether to make a run for it.
“Unlike you, brat, we don’t ask a bunch of questions.”
“Our queen asks us to do something, we do it. That’s our job.”
“That’s your job,” Kennis insisted.
“Did we not train her well enough?”
“I hope that’s not the case, Kyna. Hate to put her back through training.”
Ghleanna winced, hearing the threat in those words loud and clear. “Won’t be necessary,” she muttered.
“Good. You were always one of our favorites, Ghleanna. We’d hate to have to beat you within an inch of your life because you’ve forgotten where you come from.”
Kyna caught Ghleanna’s forearm, made her look at her. “And there’s no shame, girl. No shame in who you are, who your kin are, or who you want to be.”
“And don’t let anybody convince you different,” Kennis finished. “You are special, Ghleanna. And some blokes—they can never handle that. While others . . .”
“While others what?”
“While others were born to be the sheathe to your sword—you just need to find that one, lass. Like we did.”
“Like your Da did. But she can’t do that if she stinks of ale and misery, Kennis.”
“Not unless she wants a miserable bastard like herself, Kyna. And gods! Who’d want that?”
And Ghleanna, realizing the truth of that, headed toward the lake and prepared to meet with her queen.
Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me.
But she did. She did hug him. Right there in front of her entire court and, more importantly, in front of her consort. The most unpleasant of dragons, Bercelak the Great himself.
And Bram the Merciful, royal emissary for Queen Rhiannon of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, knew his queen did it on purpose. He knew she did it because she enjoyed torturing her mate, but she often failed to realize that she also, in the process, tortured poor Bram. Or perhaps she realized it but simply didn’t care.
“Oh, Bram! You look so wonderful. Doesn’t he look wonderful, Bercelak?”
Bram heard that growl of disapproval across the queen’s chamber.
“Bercelak thinks you look wonderful, too,” the queen lied. She patted Bram’s shoulder and stepped away. “So my dearest Bram, are you ready for your most important of trips?”
“I am, my queen. I think nothing but good can come from this and I look forward to—”
“Yes, yes.” She sat down on her throne, a bit of rock jutting from the cave wall. It never looked very comfortable to Bram, but the queen didn’t seem to mind. “But I’ve been worrying about your safety.”
“My safety? I’ll be fine, Your Majesty.”
“I’ve been hearing rumors. There are those who do not want this alliance to go through. They will try to stop you.”
“Why? It’s not Lightnings I go to see. The dragons of the Desert Lands have never been our enemies.” He was simply ensuring that they would not side with those who were.
“Always so logical, my old friend. Logical and thoughtful and smart. But still . . . nothing is ever easy in the world of dragon politics, and you of all dragons should know that.”
“Understood, my queen. And I promise you that I’ll be quite care—”
“So I’ve arranged for your protection.”
Uh-oh.
“Your Majesty, my contact in the Desert Lands is only expecting me. Not an entourage.”
“An entourage sounds so large and daunting, and it’s nothing of the sort. Just a few of my most trusted Dragonwarriors to ensure you make it safely to and from your destination.”
“Dragonwarriors?” Gods, kill him now.
Which nightmare Dragonwarriors had this female dug up from the pits of hell to send him out with? Probably Bercelak’s brothers. Or, even worse, Bercelak himself. The black dragon had never liked Bram due to Bram’s apparent affliction to “thinking too much and lusting after my sister.” And Bercelak was right, of course. About the thinking—and the lusting.
“That she is, Kennis.”
“So we better get her up and ready so we can get a move on.”
Fed up, Ghleanna nearly roared, “I don’t want to see Rhiannon! So get the f**k out of my cave!”
Kyna crouched down low so she could look Ghleanna in the eyes, one side of her snout pulling back to show row after row of deadly fangs, many having shown up as she’d aged.
“Now listen up, little girl. You can talk to your father and brothers like that if you want—but you’ll not talk to us that way. And when the queen gives you an order—”
“—you get off your ass and you follow it. Or by the gods—”
“—we’ll make you wish you had.”
Ghleanna understood now why the Cadwaladr Twins had been sent to fetch her. Although many of her siblings would put up a good fight, only her brothers Bercelak and Addolgar really had a chance at taking her, but neither would because she was their sister. The same with her father. And her mother was a peacekeeper, not a fighter. So her kin had sent the most feared Dragonwarriors in the land, the Cadwaladr Twins. Old She-dragons they might be, but that only made them more dangerous—and unstable.
“You coming, girl?”
“Yes,” Ghleanna hissed, using her front claws to push herself all the way up. It took a moment for the cavern to stop spinning and another moment for the nausea to pass. But once they did, she was ready to at least get into the lake outside and bathe.
“What does Rhiannon want with me anyway?” she asked, heading outside with the twins right behind her, debating on whether to make a run for it.
“Unlike you, brat, we don’t ask a bunch of questions.”
“Our queen asks us to do something, we do it. That’s our job.”
“That’s your job,” Kennis insisted.
“Did we not train her well enough?”
“I hope that’s not the case, Kyna. Hate to put her back through training.”
Ghleanna winced, hearing the threat in those words loud and clear. “Won’t be necessary,” she muttered.
“Good. You were always one of our favorites, Ghleanna. We’d hate to have to beat you within an inch of your life because you’ve forgotten where you come from.”
Kyna caught Ghleanna’s forearm, made her look at her. “And there’s no shame, girl. No shame in who you are, who your kin are, or who you want to be.”
“And don’t let anybody convince you different,” Kennis finished. “You are special, Ghleanna. And some blokes—they can never handle that. While others . . .”
“While others what?”
“While others were born to be the sheathe to your sword—you just need to find that one, lass. Like we did.”
“Like your Da did. But she can’t do that if she stinks of ale and misery, Kennis.”
“Not unless she wants a miserable bastard like herself, Kyna. And gods! Who’d want that?”
And Ghleanna, realizing the truth of that, headed toward the lake and prepared to meet with her queen.
Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me.
But she did. She did hug him. Right there in front of her entire court and, more importantly, in front of her consort. The most unpleasant of dragons, Bercelak the Great himself.
And Bram the Merciful, royal emissary for Queen Rhiannon of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, knew his queen did it on purpose. He knew she did it because she enjoyed torturing her mate, but she often failed to realize that she also, in the process, tortured poor Bram. Or perhaps she realized it but simply didn’t care.
“Oh, Bram! You look so wonderful. Doesn’t he look wonderful, Bercelak?”
Bram heard that growl of disapproval across the queen’s chamber.
“Bercelak thinks you look wonderful, too,” the queen lied. She patted Bram’s shoulder and stepped away. “So my dearest Bram, are you ready for your most important of trips?”
“I am, my queen. I think nothing but good can come from this and I look forward to—”
“Yes, yes.” She sat down on her throne, a bit of rock jutting from the cave wall. It never looked very comfortable to Bram, but the queen didn’t seem to mind. “But I’ve been worrying about your safety.”
“My safety? I’ll be fine, Your Majesty.”
“I’ve been hearing rumors. There are those who do not want this alliance to go through. They will try to stop you.”
“Why? It’s not Lightnings I go to see. The dragons of the Desert Lands have never been our enemies.” He was simply ensuring that they would not side with those who were.
“Always so logical, my old friend. Logical and thoughtful and smart. But still . . . nothing is ever easy in the world of dragon politics, and you of all dragons should know that.”
“Understood, my queen. And I promise you that I’ll be quite care—”
“So I’ve arranged for your protection.”
Uh-oh.
“Your Majesty, my contact in the Desert Lands is only expecting me. Not an entourage.”
“An entourage sounds so large and daunting, and it’s nothing of the sort. Just a few of my most trusted Dragonwarriors to ensure you make it safely to and from your destination.”
“Dragonwarriors?” Gods, kill him now.
Which nightmare Dragonwarriors had this female dug up from the pits of hell to send him out with? Probably Bercelak’s brothers. Or, even worse, Bercelak himself. The black dragon had never liked Bram due to Bram’s apparent affliction to “thinking too much and lusting after my sister.” And Bercelak was right, of course. About the thinking—and the lusting.
