by Lena Austin
Quenton took pity on the pinned and unconscious Lady Tilda, still bleeding at Cadell’s feet. He changed form, edged around the tableau, and wrenched the arrow from the chair, but did not risk removing it from her arm, where a broken bone grated audibly. Quenton doubted she’d wave a wand with that hand ever again, but she would not bleed to death. No matter what her crimes, she did not deserve to die.
Aneurin moved to help him. They bound her arm with the two pieces of Cadell’s wand and a bit of the hem of her outlandish costume.
Remo nodded once and smiled at Quenton for aiding Tilda. He then put his arm protectively around the tall Miranda’s waist. “I adopted Miranda when it became clear she would have sorceress powers as well as all the skills we Elves could impart to a short-lived human. She has been a full adult among us for only a few years, but enough to finish maturing.”
“You make her sound like a bottle of wine, Remo.” Jack grinned at Miranda. “I’m not too clear on how protocol goes, but it seems to me that one thing needs to happen.” He turned around and removed the crown from Cadell’s head, ignoring Cadell’s furious glance. “Here, sister of mine. Crown yourself, because I don’t think there’s anyone here qualified.” He then knelt and handed the crown to Miranda.
Miranda sighed. “You don’t want it, either?”
Jack chuckled. “No. And you’re the girl. Female. Woman. Whatever. You’re the heir, not me.”
Miranda muttered under her breath, “There goes my freedom.” She placed the crown on her own tangled short hair. “I probably look ludicrous with a dirty face and scout wear. Stars, this means I have to wear a dress.” Her disgusted tone made her feelings obvious.
Jack roared with laughter. “Don’t fuss. I have to wear one too, and don’t tell me wizard’s robes aren’t dresses.” He sobered. “I have a feeling both of us will sneak back into pants as often as possible.”
Quenton could restrain himself no longer. “But where is the Dragon’s Stone?”
Jack chuckled and pointed. “Under the throne. Cadell’s sitting on it.” Jack moved toward the throne. “Hey, Miranda? Would you like to appoint me as liaison to the dragons, since I’m bonded to the Dragon’s Stone? That way, we can give it back to the dragons with honor.” Jack waved his wand, and an oval gray river rock appeared, glowing, in his left hand. “By the way, it says DeAngelo is safely tied up and asleep in Tilda’s room at the school. We’ll get him later.”
Miranda nodded, her grin crafty. “What will we do with our sire?”
“Oh, let him watch you rule. You see, he gets what he wants, just not the way he wants. Neither you nor I were raised on the concept of one gender being better than another.” Jack shrugged.
They all nodded. Only humans and dragons of Honalee ranked the female above the male.
“That I can agree with.” Miranda’s voice remained cautious. “I do intend to insert equality slowly, over time. ’Tis only fair, but the people will accept a change such as this only over the course of a lifetime.”
“I’ve got no problems with that.” Jack shrugged and turned to Cadell. “There’s a saying in the world where I grew up. ‘Do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for you are crunchy and taste good with ketchup’.”
“What’s ketchup?” they all chorused.
Jack sighed. “You guys sure know how to ruin a good joke.”
Lena Austin
Lena Austin is a “fallen” society wench with a checkered past. She has been a licensed minister, hairdresser, and Realtor, radio DJ, exotic dancer, telephone service tech, live-steel medievalist swordswoman, BDSM Mistress, and investment property manager. Not necessarily in that order. She never finished that degree in marine archaeology, but did learn to scuba. After a life like that, writing about it is pretty restful. Of herself, Lena writes, “I’m tall, and I look like an unholy mating between an Amazon and a librarian. Everything else is subject to change on a whim, and I have a lot of whims.” Visit Lena’s website at http://www.lenaaustin.com to view her extensive list of publishing credits.
