“Thank you, Elina of the Impossibly Long Name.”
“Your father managed to remember my impossibly long name with no trouble. As did that boy.”
“They’re clearly smarter than me.”
“My horse is smarter than you.” She slipped a clean arrow into her quiver and picked up another. “And you are welcome. I . . . I am sorry about your friend.” She glanced at him. “What happened to him was cruel.”
“It was. But I know he’s happy now. Annwyl told me.”
Elina stopped what she was doing and looked over at the dragon. “What do you mean, Annwyl told you?”
“She died once. Ended up in the afterworld among the dragons. She said it was really nice there.”
Lowering the arrow she held to her lap, Elina sighed. “Annwyl has seen death, embraced it, and has returned to speak of it. Does she fear nothing?”
“Mice.”
“Mice?”
“She’s not a fan. She saw a mouse in the Great Hall once and she screamed like someone was stabbing her children. She didn’t calm down until Morfyd made everyone go outside. So she could bring in some cats. But Dagmar’s dogs fought with the cats. The cats fought with the dogs. And Gwenvael kept eating the cats. Eventually—”
“Why,” Elina cut in, “must you ruin everything?”
“I didn’t know I had.”
“I was imagining the wonder of a strong queen fighting her way back from the embrace of death and you give me stories of mice and cats and Gwenvael.”
“You asked a question. I merely answered it.”
“Then do not. Do not answer any more questions. Just sit and look pretty. It seems that is what you are best at.” Elina glanced off, then back at Celyn before ending with, “Dolt.”
The cold winter breeze suddenly turned into a blustery wind that bowed the trees and raised the dirt, until the ground shook as many claws landed hard against it.
The dolt’s mouth pulled back in that unnerving dragon’s smile, revealing row after row of shiny white fangs.
“Uncle Addolgar!” Celyn called out.
“Nephew!” The silver-scaled dragon looked at the carnage he’d landed in. “Looks like we’re too late for any fun.”
“Actually . . . no, Uncle. You’re just in time.”
Addolgar looked down at what was left of the human bodies. He didn’t know what his sister had been so worried about. Celyn appeared to be able to handle himself just fine. A message he sent her quickly and then cut off so he didn’t have to hear her screaming in his head, Are you sure? Are you sure he’s all right? Do I need to be there? Are you sure?
It was rare, but when his sister became hysterical, all he wanted to do was hit her in the head with the blunt part of his axe to calm her down. She hated when he did that, but it was quite effective.
And it was true that Addolgar’s nephew could be a little chatty for a dragon. The boy did like to talk. Even more annoying, ask questions. But nothing that couldn’t be stopped with a, “Shut it, Celyn.” Yet, Ghleanna had insisted on babying the dragon as if he were as weak as her Fal. Also one of Addolgar’s nephews, but one he liked to pretend wasn’t.
Addolgar moved closer as Celyn got to his claws and gestured at the human female beside him. “Uncle Addolgar, this is Elina of the Impossibly Long Name.”
“That is not my name, Dolt,” the female shot back.
“And Dolt is not mine.”
“And yet you continue to act like one!”
“I am Addolgar the Cheerful,” Addolgar stepped in before the bickering could start again. “And what is your name?”
“I am Elina Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains.”
Gods! That was a long name. No wonder Celyn refused to use it. He probably couldn’t remember it.
“But,” the woman went on, “you can call me Elina Shestakova.”
“Nice to meet you, Elina Shestakova.” Addolgar glanced around. “So what happened here?”
“Costentyn is dead, Uncle. Murdered.”
“Old Costentyn? Murdered? By these bastards?” he asked, gesturing around him.
“Baron Roscommon ordered it.”
“Did he now?” Addolgar sneered.
“He did,” Celyn said. “And I think he should be dealt with quickly and by us.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Addolgar studied the woman for a bit as she cleaned and sharpened her arrows. Or, at least, what remained of them. Based on the bloody cloth she was using, she’d been helpful while Celyn faced all those men. He liked that. Nothing bothered Addolgar more these days than weak females. He hadn’t always felt that way. At one time he’d just liked them pretty and eager, but things change, don’t they?
Addolgar glanced back at the battle unit that had traveled with him, focusing on the young blue-haired She-dragon. “My bag, Elara.”
“Here, Daddy,” she said when she tossed the bag to him, nearly knocking him off his claws from the power of her throw. He remembered when she couldn’t even take him to the ground during training. Now, like the rest of her sisters, she’d grown into a powerful dragoness. Just like her mum, too, favoring the hammer and all. She’d gotten damn good at it.
Addolgar dug into his travel bag and pulled out the cloth-covered stash of arrows that he used in his human-sized bows. He handed them to the human female. “Take these, Elina Shestakova. You look low.”
“Your father managed to remember my impossibly long name with no trouble. As did that boy.”
“They’re clearly smarter than me.”
“My horse is smarter than you.” She slipped a clean arrow into her quiver and picked up another. “And you are welcome. I . . . I am sorry about your friend.” She glanced at him. “What happened to him was cruel.”
“It was. But I know he’s happy now. Annwyl told me.”
Elina stopped what she was doing and looked over at the dragon. “What do you mean, Annwyl told you?”
“She died once. Ended up in the afterworld among the dragons. She said it was really nice there.”
Lowering the arrow she held to her lap, Elina sighed. “Annwyl has seen death, embraced it, and has returned to speak of it. Does she fear nothing?”
“Mice.”
“Mice?”
“She’s not a fan. She saw a mouse in the Great Hall once and she screamed like someone was stabbing her children. She didn’t calm down until Morfyd made everyone go outside. So she could bring in some cats. But Dagmar’s dogs fought with the cats. The cats fought with the dogs. And Gwenvael kept eating the cats. Eventually—”
“Why,” Elina cut in, “must you ruin everything?”
“I didn’t know I had.”
“I was imagining the wonder of a strong queen fighting her way back from the embrace of death and you give me stories of mice and cats and Gwenvael.”
“You asked a question. I merely answered it.”
“Then do not. Do not answer any more questions. Just sit and look pretty. It seems that is what you are best at.” Elina glanced off, then back at Celyn before ending with, “Dolt.”
The cold winter breeze suddenly turned into a blustery wind that bowed the trees and raised the dirt, until the ground shook as many claws landed hard against it.
The dolt’s mouth pulled back in that unnerving dragon’s smile, revealing row after row of shiny white fangs.
“Uncle Addolgar!” Celyn called out.
“Nephew!” The silver-scaled dragon looked at the carnage he’d landed in. “Looks like we’re too late for any fun.”
“Actually . . . no, Uncle. You’re just in time.”
Addolgar looked down at what was left of the human bodies. He didn’t know what his sister had been so worried about. Celyn appeared to be able to handle himself just fine. A message he sent her quickly and then cut off so he didn’t have to hear her screaming in his head, Are you sure? Are you sure he’s all right? Do I need to be there? Are you sure?
It was rare, but when his sister became hysterical, all he wanted to do was hit her in the head with the blunt part of his axe to calm her down. She hated when he did that, but it was quite effective.
And it was true that Addolgar’s nephew could be a little chatty for a dragon. The boy did like to talk. Even more annoying, ask questions. But nothing that couldn’t be stopped with a, “Shut it, Celyn.” Yet, Ghleanna had insisted on babying the dragon as if he were as weak as her Fal. Also one of Addolgar’s nephews, but one he liked to pretend wasn’t.
Addolgar moved closer as Celyn got to his claws and gestured at the human female beside him. “Uncle Addolgar, this is Elina of the Impossibly Long Name.”
“That is not my name, Dolt,” the female shot back.
“And Dolt is not mine.”
“And yet you continue to act like one!”
“I am Addolgar the Cheerful,” Addolgar stepped in before the bickering could start again. “And what is your name?”
“I am Elina Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains.”
Gods! That was a long name. No wonder Celyn refused to use it. He probably couldn’t remember it.
“But,” the woman went on, “you can call me Elina Shestakova.”
“Nice to meet you, Elina Shestakova.” Addolgar glanced around. “So what happened here?”
“Costentyn is dead, Uncle. Murdered.”
“Old Costentyn? Murdered? By these bastards?” he asked, gesturing around him.
“Baron Roscommon ordered it.”
“Did he now?” Addolgar sneered.
“He did,” Celyn said. “And I think he should be dealt with quickly and by us.”
“Probably a good idea.”
Addolgar studied the woman for a bit as she cleaned and sharpened her arrows. Or, at least, what remained of them. Based on the bloody cloth she was using, she’d been helpful while Celyn faced all those men. He liked that. Nothing bothered Addolgar more these days than weak females. He hadn’t always felt that way. At one time he’d just liked them pretty and eager, but things change, don’t they?
Addolgar glanced back at the battle unit that had traveled with him, focusing on the young blue-haired She-dragon. “My bag, Elara.”
“Here, Daddy,” she said when she tossed the bag to him, nearly knocking him off his claws from the power of her throw. He remembered when she couldn’t even take him to the ground during training. Now, like the rest of her sisters, she’d grown into a powerful dragoness. Just like her mum, too, favoring the hammer and all. She’d gotten damn good at it.
Addolgar dug into his travel bag and pulled out the cloth-covered stash of arrows that he used in his human-sized bows. He handed them to the human female. “Take these, Elina Shestakova. You look low.”
