by G. A. Aiken
“Over some male not worthy of you.”
He went there!
“I will not speak of that,” she growled and started to walk away. But her brother’s tail wrapped around her throat and yanked her back. “Ack!” “My sister,” he said, his tail tightening around her neck so she had trouble breathing, “would not be so foolish as to let any male cause her to lose all that she has worked so hard for. My sister,” he went on, ignoring Ghleanna’s talons tearing at him, “would never let some idiot dragon convince her that her exemplary skills on the battlefield make her less than any other female.” Bercelak began to slam her repeatedly into the cave floor like he used to when he’d gotten bigger and realized his sister had purposely tortured him for years. “And my sister would never, ever let some male who was never worthy of her in the first place, stop her from taking direct orders from her queen.” He slammed her to the ground one last time, the cave walls shaking, before he removed his tail. “That,” he said softly, “is not what a sister of mine would do, correct?” “You are a mean-hearted bastard!”
“But you already knew that about me, Ghleanna. You didn’t think that would change simply because I found a mate, did you?” Ghleanna stood, her claws kneading her bruised throat. “No. I really didn’t.” Her brother placed his claw on her shoulder, ignoring the way she flinched. “I know he hurt you, Ghleanna—” “No.” She had to stop him. She couldn’t hear anymore. “He didn’t hurt me, Bercelak. He made a fool of me. In front of my kin — in front of my troops.” “And he did that because he’s jealous.”
She had to laugh. “Of what?”
“Of the fact that he could never take you in a fair fight. It eats at him that you’re stronger than him, faster, definitely smarter, and worshipped by your troops. And instead of standing your ground, you let his centaur shit push you into hiding in your cave like some worthless human. Drinking yourself into a blind stupor and ignoring those who care for you. Like Mum and that bastard.” “You mean Da?”
“Call him what you like.” Bercelak’s perpetually scowling face softened a bit. “And, yes, sister, he’s well aware that this is partially his doing.” “It’s not really.” And Ghleanna swiped at the tears sliding down her snout. “My own stupidity got me here.” “Then fix it, sister.” He had both claws on her shoulders now. “Do this task for your queen with no questions. Bring a few of our kin with you. I hear things are winding down at Bolver Fields in the Southern Hills near the peacemaker’s home. Addolgar is there. He’ll be up for this trip, I think.” Ghleanna shook the rest of her pitiful tears off, pulled herself together. “Addolgar as well? You need both of us on this? Why?” “Because, if that weak kitten of a dragon gets the Sand Dragon King to sign this alliance. . it’ll make Rhiannon one of the strongest monarchs in this region in the last millennium.” “Oh. . that’s why.”
“There has to be someone else, Rhiannon. Anyone else.” “No one you’ll be as safe with as Ghleanna.” Bram sighed and tried to think of how to carefully explain this to his dangerously unstable queen without insulting her or her recently acquired kin. At least now, though, they were in her privy chamber and away from the prying eyes and ears of her court.
“These are delicate negotiations, Rhiannon. The Sand Dragon King has to be handled with care. Infinite care.” “Och! These moody foreign royals. How do you tolerate such moodiness, my friend?” Did she even listen to herself? Probably not.
“With patience,” he answered. “And none of the Cadwaladrs are known for their patience.” Rhiannon’s head tipped to the side, her blue eyes watching him. “But we are not speaking of the Cadwaladrs, are we, old friend? I sense that if we were speaking of any of Bercelak’s other kin this wouldn’t be such an issue. But we’re not. We’re speaking of Ghleanna.” Bram swallowed. “So?”
The queen began to circle Bram, the tip of her tail drawing little signs in the dirt floor as she moved. “Pretty, strong, defiant, difficult, and scarred Ghleanna.” “I know who she is, Rhiannon. I just don’t see—” “All those scars from all those battles, littering her body. Her long, strong body. Even her tail has scars — and an extra long. . tip.” “Stop.”
“And when she gets angry, Bram. . when she gets right up close and is threatening and vicious and cold; and you know in that second that you’ll never meet someone as deadly as—” “Please stop.” Bram realized he was panting.
“We’ve been friends a long time, Bram. Do you really think I’ve forgotten?” “I didn’t think you’d noticed.” No one else ever had — especially Ghleanna.
“Ghleanna is like the rest of her kin. Wonderful, but dense as thick marble.” “That’s lovely, Rhiannon.”
“I adore them all but you need to be more direct with them when you want something.” “She doesn’t know I exist. She never has.” “Because you aren’t direct with her. You’re direct with everyone else, but once Ghleanna comes around you’re suddenly a shy schoolboy.” “So? I should be like Feoras the Fighter instead?” Rhiannon winced. “Heard about that, did you?” “Everyone’s heard about it because the bastard’s told everyone.” “That annoying little rodent. I should have his veins removed.” When Bram didn’t say anything, Rhiannon noted, “No calls for mercy, peacemaker?” “Not this time, no. And stop looking at me like that. I never like cruelty from anyone. So it’s not as if I’m being particularly vicious here.” “It’s endearing that you think not calling for mercy is vicious.” Rhiannon waved all that away with her claw. “Look, when it comes to males, Ghleanna the Black doesn’t know what she wants. So you’ll have to show her.” “Show her?”
“It’s the perfect time. She’s absolutely ripe for the plucking.” Bram blinked. “What?”
“Vulnerable. That’s the word. So it’s the perfect time for a good, worthy dragon to swoop in and get her.” “Rhiannon!”
“What? I’m only trying to help.”
“That’s not helpful. That’s sneaky and deceitful.” She gave a soft snort. “Two words you’re well acquainted with.” “Only when we’re discussing politics. Ghleanna is not politics. She’s. . she’s. .” “Scarred? Perfectly, perfectly scarred?”
“Stop, Rhiannon.”
“So many scars,” the viper whispered in Bram’s ear. “All from the different weapons of those trying to kill her. She has a scar here”—her tail drew a long diagonal line across Bram’s back—“from hip to shoulder where an ogre from the Dark Hills tried to cut her in half. He didn’t succeed, though. And Ghleanna slaughtered their entire army. And when the healers sewed her up”—Rhiannon went on—“she insisted on being awake so that she’d fully understand that even a moment of being unaware had drastic consequences.” She pulled back slightly. “Why, Bram, you’re shaking.” Because he was desperately trying to control his cock. It wouldn’t do to get hard in front of his queen. No matter what the vision of Ghleanna getting her battle wounds tended did to him.
“You’re cruel, Rhiannon. You were cruel when we were young — and you’re cruel now.” “My mother was cruel, Lord Bram. I’m merely honest.” She kissed his snout. “And don’t ever say I’m not a good friend. I’m the best friend a dragon like you could hope for.” He turned slightly, both of them very close to each other, and smiled. “Best friend, my ass.” She laughed until that black snout pushed between them, forcing them apart, pitch black smoke streaming from the nostrils.
“Oh, hello, my love,” Rhiannon said to her consort. “I was just giving Bram here a pep talk before he goes to face those difficult Sand Dragons. Wasn’t I, Bram?” “Uh. . yes. She was.”
“Now go with my blessing. And good luck to you.” Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me.
But she did.
Ghleanna waited outside the Queen’s Privy Chamber, not surprised when she heard her brother’s roar and the silver-haired royal slid-stumbled into the alcove, shoved there, no doubt by her intolerant kin.
“What were you thinking?” Ghleanna asked Bram without rancor. “Hugging her like that?” “I didn’t hug
her. She hugged me!” “Uh-huh.”
A squeal came from the chamber and Rhiannon called out, “Bercelak! Put me down, you low-born bastard!” Although she didn’t sound nearly as angry as she wanted to.
“We better go,” Ghleanna offered, heading down the alcove.
“Yes, but—”
“No, Bercelak!” the queen cried out. “Not the collar! Not the chain! You bastard!” “Stand there any longer, royal, and you’ll get a visual you’ll not forget for a very long while.” Bram rushed up behind her, his eyes focused on the ground, his silver scales nearly glowing from embarrassment.
“That was. . awkward.”
“Get used to it. Them two like to play their games.” Ghleanna shrugged. “And who are we to stop them? If it makes them happy.” “I don’t mind what they do together. I just hate it when they involve the rest of us.” “Then you shouldn’t be hugging the queen.” “I didn’t hug the bloody queen!” “If you want to believe that.”
Once out of the court, they headed to one of the exits that would lead them from Devenallt Mountain, the long-time Southland Dragon power stronghold and home to their reigning monarch.
“Look,” Ghleanna continued, “all I’m saying is that you’re my responsibility until this gets done. So perhaps you could not get me and yourself killed in the process. But especially me. I’m the most important.” “I’ll do my best and yes, you heard sarcasm.” Ghleanna stopped and faced the royal she was tasked with protecting. He was taller than she, but so were her brothers, and she could take most of them in a fight. And she had, too.
“Listen well to me, Bram the Silver. You may be of royal blood, but I’m a Cadwaladr who’s been given the task of keeping your peacemaking ass alive for the next few weeks, which means that until we return, you belong to me. So do us both a favor and don’t piss me off. I’d hate to return to your beloved queen with only your head in tow, your body and that precious alliance you’re so eager to have the Sand Eaters sign left back in the Desert Lands — both torn to shreds by me.” He glared at her for what felt like several minutes until the royal snapped, “Damn that female, but she was right!”
And when Bram the Merciful stormed off, muttering to himself, Ghleanna could only shake her head and follow, readying herself for a deadly long trip she was not looking forward to at all.
Chapter 2
Ghleanna stood outside Bram’s home. She was allowing him time to pick up a few things before they got underway, and she was quite surprised.
“It’s a castle.”
“It is,” he said, digging through his travel bag for who knew what while walking across the small courtyard. They’d shifted to human and put on clothes a few miles back and Ghleanna realized she’d forgotten how attractive Bram was as human. Actually. . very attractive. Long silver hair framed his handsome face and brought out the deep blue of his eyes. His nose was flat and a little wide, making her want to poke at it with her finger; his lips full; his jaw square; and his hands and fingers long and elegant. He was as tall as Addolgar but not nearly as wide. It was clear he spent no long hours working with any weapon except the one he had attached to his shoulders, but he wasn’t so thin that he looked emaciated or weak. There was some muscle there — very nice muscle.
“Why?” she asked, gazing up at the tower attached to the castle. It wasn’t a large building and it was a bit rundown, but it could last through a battle or two as the spears embedded in the castle wall and the bit of damage done to the gate could attest.
“Why what?” Honestly, was the dragon listening to her at all?
“Why do you live in a castle?” She thought only her father did that, Ailean the Wicked even going so far as to raise his offspring in one.
“I work with as many humans as dragons.” He tripped on his way through the doorway, but seemed to barely notice and she briefly wondered if he did it every time he walked through there. “And humans simply don’t feel comfortable coming to a cave to discuss business of any kind.” They walked into the hall and Bram finally looked up from his bag.
“Charles?” he called out. “Are you here?” A human ran in from the back somewhere.
“I’m here, my Lord. I’m here!” “It’s Bram, Charles. You can call me Bram.” “Of course, my Lord. Uh. . my Lord Bram.” Bram sighed and she knew he’d immediately given up.
“I need my papers for the Alsandair trip.” “Yes, my Lord. . uh. . Lord Bram. . uh. .” “And that book on etiquette of the Desert Lands. I should refresh my memory.” “Oy,” Ghleanna finally cut in. “Don’t bring a whole bloody library. I’ll not be carrying all that bloody crap there and back.” “I think I can manage a few books and papers by myself, Captain.” “You better,” she muttered.
Bram faced her. “Are you going to be this difficult the entire trip?” “Probably.”
“Lovely.”
He motioned to a large table covered in papers and books; then she noticed that nearly every wall in the hall had floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books and scrolls, but especially books. More books than she’d ever seen before in her life. She thought her mum had a lot — she didn’t. And Ghleanna had a feeling there were even more books within the castle and the attached tower.
Gods, had he read all these books? Was it possible? He hadn’t been alive for that long.
“You can sit there. I won’t be long,” he said while still searching through that blasted bag.
“Good. I want to meet with my brothers before the suns go down.” The dragon stopped, peered at her. “Whatever for?” She frowned. Didn’t they just have this conversation on the way here? “Because they’re coming with us. . to protect you? Remember?” “Dammit, I’d put it out of my mind.” More like he’d hoped she’d changed hers. “It’s better to be protected by five Cadwaladrs than just one.” “Perhaps, but your brothers hate me.” “Only Bercelak.”
“No. I’m certain they all hate me.” “Don’t be so full of yourself — my brothers barely know you exist.” Now he looked insulted. “So I’m meaningless?” “To a Cadwaladr. . yes.” “Then I’m so glad it’s the Cadwaladrs protecting me.” And that sarcasm lashed across the room.
“You don’t have to take it so personally. Most royals don’t matter to us. So you don’t especially not exist to us. You’re just one of many royals that don’t exist to us.” “Is any of that supposed to make me feel better?” “Thought it might help.” “It didn’t.”
“I hope you don’t always take things so personally. It’ll be a long trip for us both if you do.” “Thanks so much for the warning.” He dug through his travel bag again. “Blast and damnation! I can’t find—” “The terms of your proposed alliance agreement?” Charles asked, holding out a scroll to the royal.
“Oh,” Bram said, taking the scroll. “There it is.” With a weary sigh, Ghleanna dropped into a chair and put her feet up on the table.
“Oh, my Lady!” Charles cried, horrified. “Please.” He rushed to the table and carefully lifted Ghleanna’s boot-shod feet so he could remove the books and papers from under them.
“Sorry, Charlie,” Ghleanna said with a smile. “And you can call me Ghleanna. I’m not a royal like Bram over there.” “Of course, my Lady. . uh. . Lady Gh — I mean… uh. .” “Or just Captain. You can call me Captain.” Appearing heartily relieved at being able to use a title, Charles smiled and said, “Yes, Captain.” Once he’d cleaned off the area, he returned her feet to their proper place.
“There you go, Captain.” He turned back to Bram. “I’ll gather all you require, my Lord.” “Excellent.”
Ghleanna waited until Charles had rushed off before she asked, “Does he know then? What we are?” “He knows what I am — and I’m sure he’s guessed about you. I simply don’t have time to run around hiding that particular fact from my assistant.” Bram leaned against the table and asked Ghleanna, “Now, what about your battalion?” “What about them?”
“Can’t a few of them accompany us?” “Are we here again? My brothers do not hate
you,” she insisted.
“They don’t exactly respect me either.” “They don’t respect anyone but our mother.” “Well, I understand that. Your mother’s amazing.” “I know.” Amazing and smart enough not to be taken as a fool by any male. She’d made Ailean work for her love, and work he did. “And I’m nothing like her.” “You have her freckles.” “You mean these bloody dots on my face?” She swiped at her face with her hands.
“You can’t rub them off, Ghleanna,” Bram told her with a laugh.
“I know. I know. I just hate having them.” “I like them.” And he smiled a little. Was he laughing at her?
“Yeah. . well. .” She lowered her hands, forcing herself not to act so self-conscious. “You don’t have to live with them.” He continued to stare at her, making her nervous, when he finally observed, “You’re letting your hair grow out.” “What? Oh.” She refused to run her hands through her hair. “Haven’t had much call lately to keep it short.” She shrugged and pulled out one of the blades she kept in her boot. “Guess I can do that now.” He caught hold of her hand. “What are you planning to do with that?” “Cut my hair. You were the one complaining about it.” “I didn’t complain.”
“Then you dislike my hair when it’s short?” “That isn’t what I meant either.” She threw up her hands. “Then what the bloody hells did you mean?” The royal’s blue eyes briefly flared before he closed them and let out a breath. “You do wear the scales off my hide.” She knew that — enjoyed doing it, too. And that was wrong, wasn’t it?
“Charles!” he suddenly bellowed, and the human charged back into the hall a few moments later.
“Yes, my Lord. . Bram. . my Lord Bram. . Lord—” “Please take the Captain to one of the rooms so that she can freshen up.” He wrestled the blade from her hand, making Ghleanna laugh. She hadn’t laughed so in ages. It felt nice. “Perhaps you can also cut her hair. She prefers it short.” He handed the blade to poor, confused Charles.
