Light My Fire
Page 104
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Still, try telling this lot all that. Such concern. Such claw wringing.
Perhaps Brigida had stayed away too long. Or would her presence not have changed any of this? She really didn’t know. All she did know was that she needed a “champion,” and so far she saw none who would live up to that title.
Although she needed no champion for herself. The day she couldn’t protect herself was the day she needed to light the funeral pyre and climb up on it.
No, Brigida needed a champion to help her with this end game, as she liked to call it. Darkness had settled over the world, but no one could see it. They tried to deal with one problem at a time, as it arose. Never thinking about the true nightmare coming their way.
But looking at this sorry lot of fishwives, Brigida saw no one who could possibly—
“We can see you.”
Slowly, Brigida looked over and down. Way down, to the five golden-headed girls staring up at her.
“You hide,” the tallest, and most likely eldest, one said, “but we can see you clear as day.”
“You’re old,” said one of the others. “Really, really old.”
“You better be here for nice reasons,” the tallest warned. “Or we won’t like it.”
Brigida was about to respond to that when the girls all looked toward the doors at the front of the hall.
“She’s back,” one said.
“And she’s still in a bad mood,” said another.
“Run!”
And they all did, scattering and disappearing into the walls of the castle.
Brigida looked to see who had them so concerned. At first, all she saw was a very young-looking Bercelak. Gods, how did he manage not to age at all? But then Brigida realized that this was the oldest of Bercelak’s hatchlings. The future Dragon King, Fearghus. And walking behind him was his human mate. The mother of the first Abominations.
As she walked into the hall, everyone stopped talking, and stared at her.
She stared back for a good minute before announcing, “I’m not apologizing!”
“Of course you’re not.”
“You shouldn’t have grabbed me, Briec!”
“I was trying to prevent you from doing something stupid. And now look at me!”
“Oh, stop your whining,” said the golden-haired one. Brigida easily guessed who that one was. The infamous Gwenvael the Slag. Even tucked away in the Outerplains, she’d heard all about his exploits. “Look what Celyn did to my beautiful, beautiful nose! Broke it, he did!”
“You deserved it after what you said to him,” snarled a hearty female who looked much like Ghleanna.
“What did he say to Celyn?” Ghleanna demanded. “What did you say, you spoiled brat?”
That’s when Gwenvael the Slag burst into tears and sobbed, “Why are you yelling at me, Auntie Ghleanna? I’ve always been your favorite!”
Good gods, what has happened to my people?
While a few in the room tried to stop the crying and most of the others just rolled their eyes at it, the human queen attempted to slip away. But another human with pieces of glass on her plain face barked out, “Hold it!” When that got her a glare, she gave a forced smile and added, “My queen.”
That got her a snarl that Brigida found off-putting . . . and intriguing.
The plain-faced human stood and gestured to her chair. “Sit,” she ordered.
“I’m in no mood to—”
“Sit!”
The human queen sat down, and the plain-faced one said, “I know you are angry. And I completely understand why. But you cannot go around digging out the eyes of whoever you want, whenever you want.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re trying to create alliances, Annwyl. Not start new wars. Do you not understand that?”
“And do you not understand that I sent Elina back to her people as my emissary? How can I ignore what they did to her?”
“It wasn’t they. It was her. Her mother. A relationship forged since the womb. We cannot and will not involve ourselves with that.”
“But—”
“You’ve come so far, Annwyl. Don’t ruin all this by returning to old habits.”
The queen suddenly stood, her chair scraping against the stone floor. Everyone who was standing moved back except the future Dragon King and the plain-faced human.
Dragons moved back from her. Dragons.
Without saying a word, the queen stalked away from the group and went to the stairs. Brigida followed by cutting through the stone walls.
By the time the human queen entered her royal bedchamber, Brigida was already waiting for her. She watched from the shadows as Annwyl the Bloody walked across the room. She began to take off her weapons. She’d dropped most of them onto a large table, but then she abruptly stopped, stared. And, out of nowhere, exploded.
The weapons went flying as the table was lifted and thrown across the room in a burst of pure rage the likes of which Brigida had never seen before.
The queen pushed open one of the windows as far as it would go, and took big gulps of air, doing her best to calm herself down.
That’s when Brigida moved the shadows so that she could be seen and, instantly, the queen was aware she was no longer alone. She spun around and glowered at Brigida.
“Where the battle-fuck did you come from?” she snarled.
Brigida smiled. “Well, girl, it really depends on who you ask.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elina lifted her bow, aimed. But when she let the arrow loose, it was inches off. A difference between a clean, quick kill and just pissing her prey off—something that she preferred not to do.
Perhaps Brigida had stayed away too long. Or would her presence not have changed any of this? She really didn’t know. All she did know was that she needed a “champion,” and so far she saw none who would live up to that title.
Although she needed no champion for herself. The day she couldn’t protect herself was the day she needed to light the funeral pyre and climb up on it.
No, Brigida needed a champion to help her with this end game, as she liked to call it. Darkness had settled over the world, but no one could see it. They tried to deal with one problem at a time, as it arose. Never thinking about the true nightmare coming their way.
But looking at this sorry lot of fishwives, Brigida saw no one who could possibly—
“We can see you.”
Slowly, Brigida looked over and down. Way down, to the five golden-headed girls staring up at her.
“You hide,” the tallest, and most likely eldest, one said, “but we can see you clear as day.”
“You’re old,” said one of the others. “Really, really old.”
“You better be here for nice reasons,” the tallest warned. “Or we won’t like it.”
Brigida was about to respond to that when the girls all looked toward the doors at the front of the hall.
“She’s back,” one said.
“And she’s still in a bad mood,” said another.
“Run!”
And they all did, scattering and disappearing into the walls of the castle.
Brigida looked to see who had them so concerned. At first, all she saw was a very young-looking Bercelak. Gods, how did he manage not to age at all? But then Brigida realized that this was the oldest of Bercelak’s hatchlings. The future Dragon King, Fearghus. And walking behind him was his human mate. The mother of the first Abominations.
As she walked into the hall, everyone stopped talking, and stared at her.
She stared back for a good minute before announcing, “I’m not apologizing!”
“Of course you’re not.”
“You shouldn’t have grabbed me, Briec!”
“I was trying to prevent you from doing something stupid. And now look at me!”
“Oh, stop your whining,” said the golden-haired one. Brigida easily guessed who that one was. The infamous Gwenvael the Slag. Even tucked away in the Outerplains, she’d heard all about his exploits. “Look what Celyn did to my beautiful, beautiful nose! Broke it, he did!”
“You deserved it after what you said to him,” snarled a hearty female who looked much like Ghleanna.
“What did he say to Celyn?” Ghleanna demanded. “What did you say, you spoiled brat?”
That’s when Gwenvael the Slag burst into tears and sobbed, “Why are you yelling at me, Auntie Ghleanna? I’ve always been your favorite!”
Good gods, what has happened to my people?
While a few in the room tried to stop the crying and most of the others just rolled their eyes at it, the human queen attempted to slip away. But another human with pieces of glass on her plain face barked out, “Hold it!” When that got her a glare, she gave a forced smile and added, “My queen.”
That got her a snarl that Brigida found off-putting . . . and intriguing.
The plain-faced human stood and gestured to her chair. “Sit,” she ordered.
“I’m in no mood to—”
“Sit!”
The human queen sat down, and the plain-faced one said, “I know you are angry. And I completely understand why. But you cannot go around digging out the eyes of whoever you want, whenever you want.”
“Why not?”
“Because we’re trying to create alliances, Annwyl. Not start new wars. Do you not understand that?”
“And do you not understand that I sent Elina back to her people as my emissary? How can I ignore what they did to her?”
“It wasn’t they. It was her. Her mother. A relationship forged since the womb. We cannot and will not involve ourselves with that.”
“But—”
“You’ve come so far, Annwyl. Don’t ruin all this by returning to old habits.”
The queen suddenly stood, her chair scraping against the stone floor. Everyone who was standing moved back except the future Dragon King and the plain-faced human.
Dragons moved back from her. Dragons.
Without saying a word, the queen stalked away from the group and went to the stairs. Brigida followed by cutting through the stone walls.
By the time the human queen entered her royal bedchamber, Brigida was already waiting for her. She watched from the shadows as Annwyl the Bloody walked across the room. She began to take off her weapons. She’d dropped most of them onto a large table, but then she abruptly stopped, stared. And, out of nowhere, exploded.
The weapons went flying as the table was lifted and thrown across the room in a burst of pure rage the likes of which Brigida had never seen before.
The queen pushed open one of the windows as far as it would go, and took big gulps of air, doing her best to calm herself down.
That’s when Brigida moved the shadows so that she could be seen and, instantly, the queen was aware she was no longer alone. She spun around and glowered at Brigida.
“Where the battle-fuck did you come from?” she snarled.
Brigida smiled. “Well, girl, it really depends on who you ask.”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Elina lifted her bow, aimed. But when she let the arrow loose, it was inches off. A difference between a clean, quick kill and just pissing her prey off—something that she preferred not to do.
