How to Drive a Dragon Crazy
Page 82

Aidan leaned in and whispered low into Éibhear’s ear, “I’d initially found her large shoulders a tad off-putting. But I must say that at this moment . . . completely understand the attraction.”
Éibhear didn’t answer him, but instead watched the troops go back to their work. Izzy swiped up her dagger, tucked it back into the holster attached to her sword belt, and marched over to Éibhear’s side. She motioned him down with a wave of her hand. He lowered himself a bit. “Aye?”
“Why does everyone hate you? Other than the obvious reasons, of course.”
Smart-ass. “Because we’re Mì-runach.”
“You’d think they’d appreciate what you do for your queen.”
“You’d think.”
She looked so annoyed by how the others had treated him and his comrades. Whether she realized she was upset for him, Éibhear didn’t know, but he was enjoying it. Enjoying her. He wouldn’t mention that, though. He knew it would only piss her off.
“I’m not discussing it!” Brannie roared as she came stomping around a corner, her idiot brother Fal following behind her.
“You can’t just bring bloody Mì-runach here, Branwen! Not without permission of—”
Brannie spun around and faced her brother, her sharpened tail pointing in his face, dangerously close to his eye. “The Mì-runach are part of this army, you idiot. They need no one’s permission to go anywhere on Her Majesty’s territory. And Éibhear is your cousin. He’s kin. A Cadwaladr by blood. Never forget that, Fal the Tepid.”
Éibhear leaned down a bit more and whispered, “That name will stick.”
“Aye. I’m afraid you may be right.” Izzy cringed a bit, but added, “Tragic really, but from what I understand . . . deserved.”
“You two going to start braiding each other’s hair next?” Uther grumbled. And, when they all turned to look at him: “I’m hungry!”
“We’d best get him fed,” Aidan warned. “You know how he gets.”
Éibhear glanced around. “There’s got to be something to eat around here until we can get a proper meal.” He pointed across the cavern. “There. Cow’s legs.”
Izzy looked over. “Good gods, those are cow’s legs. They just have cow’s legs lying around? Like treats?”
“What would you expect a dragon to eat?” Éibhear asked her. “Chicken legs?”
“I guess you have a point, but . . .”
Uther now stood in front of them with a cow’s leg, using his fangs to rip meat off the bone. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he sighed loudly. “That’s good.”
Izzy gazed up at Éibhear. “Eww.”
Izzy put her hand to her mouth to hide her laugh and keep food from flying out. When it was decided that the Mì-runach were staying—dealing with Izzy was one thing for these dragons, but dealing with Captain Branwen the Awful was definitely another—a small feast was thrown together in one of the caverns with a long dining table, plates, and utensils. And, in honor of Iseabail, everyone came as human. At least they said it was in honor of Iseabail. Izzy really thought it was more about getting a chance to hang around the human prostitutes in their less intimidating forms.
“Stop, Brannie,” Izzy got out around the food she still hadn’t swallowed.
“Look at him. All puffed up. I can’t believe that’s my brother.”
They both looked over at Fal. The brown dragon was keeping human prostitutes enthralled with tales of wartime heroism that managed to leave out how many times Brannie and Celyn had been forced to save his rather useless ass.
“What’s really tragic is he’s not even smart enough to help Daddy with all his peacemaking, politics, and book . . . stuff. He’s bloody stupid!”
“Would you stop?” Izzy begged, her voice barely a whisper, her attempts to stop her laughter getting weaker by the second.
“And look at ’em,” she coaxed Izzy, gesturing to the women. “Look at ’em all. ‘Ohhh, Fal,’” she mimicked in a high-pitched voice. “‘You’re so handsome and brave.’”
Izzy pushed her nearly empty plate away. It was rare for her not to finish a meal but what could she do? Brannie would have her choke to death!
“But,” Izzy whispered, “they are prostitutes, yes?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Then is romance really required?”
“It is when you’re cheap.”
“Ahhh. I see.”
Brannie leaned in closer, her voice dropping even more. “Now you see why me mum sent him here. He’s hopeless.”
“But he seems quite happy.”
“Because there’s no safer or more boring an assignment then the salt mines.”
“It’s a very important job, though, Bran. Guarding salt.” Izzy cringed, unable to imagine spending her life guarding a seasoning for meat. “Look, as long as he’s happy . . .”
“As long as there’s fresh pu**y and ale within flying distance, my brother will always be happy.” Brannie sneered in disgust, dismissed it all with a wave of her hand, and asked, “So, you getting nervous about meeting your grandmum?”
“First off, that woman is not my grandmum. Rhiannon is my grandmum. That other bitch is just the body that carried my mum.”