How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

by G. A. Aiken

  “Good.” He headed toward the door. “I will.”

  “Just like my mother stopped me. Izzy is evidence of how successful that was.”

  Briec stopped with his hand on the doorknob, his entire body tense.

  “Do you really want to be called ‘grandfather’ by some byproduct of Lord Pombray’s bloodline?”

  Her mate shuddered at the thought and Talaith bit the inside of her mouth to stop from laughing. When he didn’t move, she walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist. She rested her cheek against his back and said, “The Pombrays won’t be here for long. Let her do this. Just one day, then they’ll secretly flirt until he leaves.”

  “And Brastias will—”

  “Keep a very close eye on them. I promise.”

  “And if you’re wrong about all this?”

  “You’ll be able to lord it over me from now until our ancestors take us home.”

  He nodded. “As long as you understand that last bit.”

  Izzy pulled her horse to a stop beside Éibhear’s and, like him, gazed down into the town below. Past that town she could see Annwyl’s castle, where the sight of dragons circling the tall spires of the building always told her that she was home again.

  “You all right?” she asked.

  “Aye. Just thinking about how long it’s been since I’ve been back here.”

  “Sure you don’t want to see your mum first? I know for a fact she’s missed you greatly.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because she said, ‘I miss my son greatly.’”

  He snorted a little, but the smile was there. “You don’t really go for general euphemisms, do you, Izzy?”

  “I don’t even know what that means, so I’ll go with no. I don’t.” She adjusted the reins in her hand. “I can take your horse for you, if you want to head to Devenallt.” Devenallt Mountain was the seat of power of the ruling Southland dragons and where the Dragon Queen, Éibhear’s mum and Izzy’s grandmum-by-mating, lived in safety.

  “And be forced to see my father at the same time?” He shook his head. “No. I think I’d rather deal with my brothers first.”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” she teased. “I’m sure they didn’t even notice you were gone.”

  “Thank you. That’s very nice.”

  “Just getting you ready for the rest of the family. Isn’t that what nieces are for?”

  Éibhear rolled his eyes. “We’re not back here again, are we?”

  “Oh, dear old uncle.” She patted his cheek ever so gently. “You dear old thing. You know you’re my favorite old uncle.”

  “Vicious cow,” Éibhear muttered under his breath. “Heartless, vicious cow,” he amended.

  Laughing, Izzy spurred her horse on and headed toward home and whatever waited there for her.

  Éibhear watched Izzy ride down the trail toward home. Brannie pulled up next to him, giving him a quick once-over. “Going to Garbhán Isle looking like that, are you?”

  “What’s wrong with how I look?”

  His cousin sighed, shook her head, and followed after Izzy.

  He watched them for a bit before he snarled, “And where do you lot think you’re going?”

  “To the pub,” Aidan answered for them all.

  “You’re not coming with me?”

  “I know your brothers, which should answer that question. And Cas and Uther have heard your tales over the years, sooooo . . . no. We’re going to the pub. Get drunk. Get some pussy. Maybe gamble a bit. Good luck to ya.”

  His comrades continued on down a path that led to the closest pub, leaving Éibhear alone. It wasn’t until now that he’d bothered to think much on how difficult this could possibly be. His kin, both the royal side and the Cadwaladrs, didn’t think much of the Mì-runach. The royals avoided them and the Cadwaladrs thought of them as crazed dogs to be unleashed in battle when you didn’t care what the outcome might be. Éibhear had once thought the same thing . . . until he’d become one. Until he realized how important the Mì-runach were to the survival of their kind. But he knew better than to try to convince his kin of any of that. Dragons rarely changed their minds unless forced to, and Éibhear was no longer as tolerant as he once had been.

  Still . . . it had been ten years. He was no longer the hatchling they’d adored, nor the unhappy adolescent they’d had little patience for. Instead, he was Éibhear the Contemptible, Squad Leader of the Mì-runach; Hated Southlander of the Ice Land Dragons; and Destroyer of Sixteen Ice Land Dragon Tribes—a number that outranked all other Mì-runach.

  When he realized none of that would matter to his siblings, he briefly debated following his mates to the pub. But Éibhear knew he couldn’t avoid this forever. Avoid them forever.

  So he tapped the sides of his horse with his heels and the animal moved forward, taking Éibhear home—and to whatever awaited him there.

  Dagmar went out of her way not to react when she heard Briec the Mighty imperiously inform his daughter that he was “allowing” her to spend an afternoon with Lord Pombray’s son. Instead she kept her head down and her smile to herself.

  Although she greatly doubted the relationship between the boy and Rhi would go beyond some innocent flirtation, she knew it was important for Rhi to get away from her overprotective father, uncles, and cousins for a bit. Dagmar didn’t want the same life for Briec’s daughter that she’d had. Having to lie, connive, and quietly make things happen in the background while the men took all the credit was no life for any female. And now that Dagmar had gone years being trusted with the security of these lands and the politics of the Southlanders, she couldn’t imagine going back to the life she’d lived in the north.

  This was especially true when she saw her brother’s son wander into the Great Hall. Poor, confused idiot. He’d been here for several days and yet he seemed baffled by everything. People talked to him and he stared at them mindlessly. She even noticed that Frederik’s brothers and cousins paid little attention to the boy. Clearly the men of her family had already given up on him. They weren’t comfortable with men as smart as Dagmar—and yes, she knew she was smart . . . definitely smarter than any male in her family—but they had no use for males too stupid for basic conversation who were also completely unable to handle a sword or mace or any other weapon. And the boy couldn’t handle any weapon. He was as bad as Dagmar, and that said much.

  Which was why she knew that her nephews would ask her to keep Frederik for a while. Reason forbid the big bastards should try to deal with the tragic idiot themselves. Instead they’d try to pawn him off on someone else. Well, Dagmar had no intention of letting that happen this time. She refused to play these ridiculous games with her family. Still, for now, she’d have to tolerate the boy. It was the least she could do for him.

  Biting back a sigh, Dagmar motioned him over, but he only frowned. So, she snapped, “Frederik.”

  He made his way over to her, but slammed his leg into the table before he sat down in the chair next to her. She was convinced the boy must be covered in bruises from all the things he walked into during the day.

  “Morning, Auntie Dagmar.”

  “Morning, Frederik. Do you like your room?” she asked, falling back on the boring patter she used with most royals.

  “Yes, yes. It’s very nice.”

  “Good.”

  When she couldn’t think of anything else to say to the boy, she went back to reading her missives from several of the ports Annwyl’s troops controlled and trying to block out Rhi’s excited babble. Shame Keita wasn’t around. She’d love all this discussion over gowns and what one girl should wear to walk into town and go shopping with one boy.

  “Nothing revealing,” her father warned.

  “Daddy,” Rhi chastised.

  “Do you want the boy to live to see the birth of his children with some other boring human female, or do you want to be crying at his funeral pyre? Your choice.”

  “Daddy!”

  Dagmar was shaki
ng her head and quietly chuckling when she sensed them nearby.

  She lifted her head and found Talan sitting on her right, eating the buttered bread she’d had on a plate beside all her papers. Talwyn sat cattycorner from Frederik—who still hadn’t noticed anything—her feet on the worn wood, her bright green eyes watching Rhi and Briec at the other end of the table.

  “Mornin’, Aunt Dagmar,” Talan murmured around her food. Only eighteen and his voice was no more than a low rumble of sound. It had been that way since he was twelve. Something that still disturbed her a bit.

  “Talan.”

  “Anything interesting in there?” he asked, trying to see the documents she was reviewing.

  Dagmar placed her arm over the parchment, stared her nephew directly in those black eyes. “Nothing for you to see, I assure you.”

  His grin was disturbingly wicked for someone so young. A smile that his sister only had when weapons were involved.

  “What’s all this about?” Talwyn asked, motioning down the table with her apple.

  “Rhi is going to be spending the day with young Albrecht.”

  “What?” Talwyn looked at Rhi. “Oy!”

  Rhi let out a breath and Dagmar knew the girl was steeling herself. The connection between the twins and Rhi was unbelievably strong. But the arguing . . .

  Gods. The arguing.

  She slowly faced her cousin. “Aye?”

  “What’s this about the Pombray brat?”

  “This has nothing to do with you, Talwyn. Stay out of it.”

  “I won’t stay out of it.” Talwyn looked to her uncle. “And you’re all right with this?”

  “I’ve given my permission.”

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I have to admit,” Briec said, “I liked it better when you didn’t speak.”

  “Back off, Talwyn.” And that came from Talan. Brother and sister looked at each other and Dagmar instinctively leaned back in her chair. Of course Frederik, oblivious as always, leaned closer to the table so that he could study the plate of food one of the servants had placed in front of him. What exactly did he expect to see? Besides eggs and slabs of meat?

  “Stay out of it, Talan.”

  “Leave her alone, sister.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do, brother.”

  “If she wants to spend time with Pombray—”

  “You may think it’s quite all right to stick your cock in anything that moves—”

  “What does my cock have to do with anything?”

  “—but I don’t trust Pombray or his son and I won’t have her spending time with any of them.”

  “It’s none of your bloody business, sister. Lay off.”

  “Make me.”

  Rhi stamped her foot, her frustration evident and clearly growing. Once again, her cousins’ bickering was getting between her and her enjoyment. Something she’d grown less and less tolerant of the last couple of years or so. “Both of you, stop it!”

  But it was too late. Brother and sister had locked on each other, both of them getting to their feet, hands moving toward the weapons they kept on them at all times.

  “I mean it,” Rhi tried again. “Stop it!”

  Dagmar quickly got out of her chair, her papers held against her chest. But as she started to move away, she realized Frederik was still sitting there, toying with some bacon. Completely oblivious. She was reaching for him when a large hand she knew so well reached past her, grabbed the boy by the back of his cotton shirt and yanked him from the chair.

  Dagmar stumbled into the wall, nodding her appreciation up at her mate, who still held the boy in his arms.

  “I leave you alone for five minutes,” he quietly joked.

  She pressed into Gwenvael the Handsome’s side. “I know. I simply can’t be trusted on my own.”

  “Tragically weak female.”

  He winked at her, but then the twins were up on the table and charging each other, short swords unsheathed.

  Rhi slammed her foot against the ground again and screamed out, “Stop it!”

  And, her mouth open in shock, Dagmar watched as Talan was flung into the wall and Talwyn flung right across the Great Hall and out the doors.

  “Huh,” Gwenvael said. “That’s new.”

  Dagmar shook off her surprise and quickly said to Frederik, “You didn’t see any of that. Understand me?”

  “Didn’t see what?” the boy asked.

  Dagmar wanted to believe Frederik had caught on quickly, but she actually knew he was just painfully clueless.

  After they stabled their horses, Brannie had headed off to one of the nearby lakes where many of her dragon kin camped whenever they came to visit or protect Garbhán Isle. According to Éibhear, the three other Mì-runach had stayed in town to spend time at one of the pubs while Izzy and Éibhear walked to the castle.

  They were cutting through the courtyard, nearing the steps that would take them to the Great Hall, when Éibhear abruptly stopped, his head tipping to the side. Izzy stopped as well. The dragon had the best hearing she’d ever known and if he thought he heard something—

  His arm slipped around her waist and he yanked her out of the way just as a loud bang echoed out from the Great Hall and something exploded through the doorway.

  They watched that something shoot past them and slam into one of the nearby buildings. When it landed, Izzy sighed. “Talwyn.”

  “Good gods!” Éibhear exclaimed. Then he added, “She’s gotten tall.”

  “That she has.”

  “Do you think Talan did this?”

  “I don’t know. I usually find them entangled in a pit fight, not throwing each other around.”

  They became quiet and that’s when Izzy realized that Éibhear’s arm was still around her waist. She looked down at his arm and then up at him. He smiled at her until she murmured, “Someone’s a naughty uncle.” Then he couldn’t release her fast enough.

  Izzy was just about to head over to her cousin to check on her when Rhi stumbled down the first few steps of the Great Hall. She took one look at Talwyn and Rhi’s hand covered her mouth, her eyes wide in shock. That’s when Izzy knew who’d done this.

  Grateful, for the first time, that she’d come home when she did, she quickly turned and headed toward the Great Hall.

  “Rhi,” she called out and her sister looked down at her with their father’s eyes. Bright violet and beautiful, long silver hair framing her gorgeous face, brown skin perfect, soft, and completely unscarred.

  “Izzy?” Rhi burst into tears. “Izzy!” She charged down the steps and Izzy met her at the bottom. Her sister dove into her arms, sobbing uncontrollably as Izzy held her.

  “It’s all right. It’s all right,” she soothed, patting her back.

  “I’ve killed her!”

  “You have not.” Izzy glanced back and saw that Éibhear had gone over and scooped up his niece, carrying her back to the stairs. “See? She’s fine.”

  Rhi lifted her head and Talwyn waved a little, smiled. “I’m fine. I promise.”

  But Rhi only sobbed louder, resting against her sister.

  With a shrug, Éibhear carried Talwyn back inside. Once they were alone, Izzy asked her sister, “What is it, Rhi? She’s fine.”

  “She’s not fine.” Rhi looked up at her sister with all that painful earnestness she couldn’t hide. “She smiled. Izzy . . . Talwyn smiled!”

  Inconsolable, she gripped Izzy harder, sobbed louder, and all Izzy could do was pat her sister’s back and sigh.

  Éibhear walked into the Great Hall but stopped when he saw Briec sending a wounded male off with one of the servants. And if that wounded male was Talan . . . well, like his sister, the boy had matured into quite the human specimen.

  The girl in his arms suddenly tensed, green eyes looked up at him and narrowed . . . dangerously. Just like her mother.

  “Who are you?” she asked.

  “Don’t you know?”

  “If I knew, I’d not have
asked.” She sniffed. “Dragon.”

  Impressed, he answered, “I’m—”

  “Éibhear?”

  He looked up, smiled at Dagmar Reinholdt. “Hello, Dagmar.”

  “Éibhear!” She dropped papers onto the table and ran to his side, throwing her arms around his waist.

  “You can put me down,” Talwyn muttered.

  “You sure?”

  “I’m sure.” He could hear that sneer in her words. He wondered if she sneered at everything. Something told him that yes, she did.

  So Éibhear released her. She landed on her feet, but then she stumbled back and dropped butt first to the floor. Instead of helping her, he hugged Dagmar.

  “I’m so glad to see you.” She stepped back and looked him over. “Although I’m not sure about this look you’ve got going here.”

  “I’ve been in the Ice Lands for ten years. What did you expect me to look like?”

  “Not like this. But we all work with what we have access to, I guess.”

  “What are you doing here?” another voice barked.

  Éibhear looked to Briec, who stood glowering at him. “And I missed you, too, brother.”

  “I didn’t miss you.”

  Éibhear crossed his eyes. “Of course you didn’t.”

  “Where’s Rhi?”

  “With Izzy. We came here together.”

  Briec glanced over at Gwenvael, stared, then looked back at Éibhear. “Oh,” Briec said. “Great. She’ll be fine with Izzy.” Then he walked off, heading farther into the castle.

  Dagmar reached for Talwyn. “Why don’t I get her to Morfyd?”

  “Thanks, Dagmar.”

  “Of course. I’ll let her know you’re here. She’ll be so happy to see you.” She smiled up at him. “I’m so glad you’re home, Éibhear.” And he knew she meant it. Meaningful, since she rarely meant anything she said when speaking to royals.

  “So am I.”

  Éibhear watched Dagmar take Talwyn up the stairs to the bedrooms before he moved to Gwenvael’s side. “Hello, brother.”

  “Éibhear.” Gwenvael looked him over. “Nice hair.”

  “Thank you. I do try.” Éibhear motioned to the human boy who was walking back to the table and picking up his plate.