by G. A. Aiken
Gwenvael pointed a damning finger. “This betrayal will never be forgotten.”
“Gwenvael—”
“Ever!”
“So pretty,” Nika said to her sisters. “But such a big baby about a little hair.”
“Shut up,” Dagmar snarled, yanking the hair from the Rider’s grasp. “And never speak of this again.”
“But—”
“Ever!”
Elina watched in fascination as Gwenvael the Handsome sobbed on Talaith’s shoulder.
“His hair?” she asked Celyn again.
“He loves his hair.”
“Yes, but—”
“You’re thinking again. Logically. When it comes to my royal kin. Why? Really. I mean . . . why? Logic . . . not involved here. Even in a little way.”
“Then I shall stop.”
“It’s for the best. You’ll just give yourself a headache.”
The sobbing grew louder, and Elina was about to leave just so she wouldn’t have to see any more when Kachka walked into the hall, followed by the other Riders who’d accompanied her.
“Sister!” she called out. “You are not dead!”
“Not yet.”
Celyn shook his head. “That’s a lovely greeting between sisters . . . and what were you thinking!” he suddenly bellowed at his younger sister, who’d walked in with Aidan the Divine of the Mì-runach and King Gaius.
“Are you yelling at me?” Brannie demanded. “At me?”
“Yes, at you! First off,” he said, shooting out of his chair and storming over to his sister, “you don’t ask Mum if you can go off with this idiot to fight the battles of Irons!” He glanced at Gaius and muttered, “No offense,” before yelling at his sister again. “And second, I’m in charge of you! Me! Not him! And not Mum!”
“She’s my general! I take orders from her! Not some idiot who used to fly into walls.”
“I was still learning!”
Unable to stand a second more of this, Elina stood and walked out of the Great Hall, grabbing Kachka’s arm as she passed and pulling her along.
“You are part of that now,” her sister reminded her.
“I am . . .” Elina’s words faded off when she realized that King Gaius had followed them out. If he’d kept walking, she would have assumed he’d used their exit as an excuse to leave such a ridiculous argument between siblings. But he didn’t keep walking. He stopped by Kachka’s side. Looking as if he rightfully belonged there.
That’s when Elina asked, “Have you two been fucking again?”
Before Kachka could reply, Gaius leaned down, smiled, and said, “Yes!”
Kachka rubbed her forehead.
“She won’t admit it, Elina, but it’s been great.”
“Go away.”
“To our room?”
“It is not—” Kachka stopped. Took a moment. “Just go,” she said finally.
Gaius leaned in and kissed Kachka on the cheek. He started to walk down the stairs, but suddenly turned around and fled back inside. Elina didn’t know why until Keita charged up the stairs after him, yelling, “Yoo-hoo! King Gaius! You must see the new colors of patches I have for you and your missing eye!”
“So,” Elina said, trying not to smile, “a king husband. That is impressive, sister.”
“He is not my husband.”
“No. But I have seen that look before. Fearghus has it when Annwyl screams at the walls that she will not be forced to hire the stonemason. Briec has it when he argues with Talaith about damaged fruit. Gwenvael has it when he watches that tiny, weak Northlander order big soldiers around and they listen. She cannot even take down an elk, but there you go. And King Gaius . . . he now has that look for you.”
“I do not want to have this conversation.”
“Because you know I am right.”
“Because you need to shut up.”
Trying to pretend that she wasn’t bonded to that Iron dragon, Kachka motioned to all the activity in the courtyard.
“They’re getting ready?” Kachka asked in their native tongue.
“Yes. They will be going to war. As will you, I’m guessing, sister. Now that you are the Scourge of Gods.”
Kachka shrugged. “I guess.”
“You should. You are very good at it. Even our mother could never deny that.”
“And you?”
“Stay here. Like a man, I will guard the children here.”
“The children here need no guardian. But protecting the home has no shame either. If they get past us, the tiny Northlander will need someone like you at her side.”
A sudden din of loud voices stopped the sisters’ conversation and they watched the Kolesova sisters come down the stairs, hugging and greeting each other with loud cheers.
“Elina Shestakova!” Zoya Kolesova greeted. “Are you as happy to see your sister as I am to see mine?”
Staring straight at her, Elina replied flatly, “No.”
Kachka snorted and quickly looked off.
“Me, too!” Zoya replied, her arms around two of her sisters, as Nika led the way, most likely to the closest pub.
“What are Zoya’s sisters doing here?” Kachka asked when they’d gone around the corner of the house.
“They’ve come here to seek an honorable death at Annwyl the Bloody’s side.”
“Oh,” Kachka said with a nod. “That makes sense.”
Aidan found his sister where he least expected it. On the top of the battlements of Queen Annwyl’s home. In her dragon form, staring out over the land that she’d never seen before.
He landed beside her.
“I thought you’d be at Devenallt Mountain.”
Eyes closed, letting the wind blow against her face, Orla replied, “Queen Rhiannon sent me here. Don’t know why.”
“She has a good sense of things, our queen.”
“She kept Mother and the others close by, though.”
“Of course she did.”
“Will they be safe?”
“As long as they’re not stupid.”
Orla finally looked at him. “So . . . no then?”
Aidan laughed, glad his baby sister’s sense of humor hadn’t left her completely.
“You’ll be safe here, Orla,” he promised her.
“But you’re not staying. Are you?”
“I can’t. Not now.”
“And Father?”
Aidan blew out a breath. “With the dwarves. I guess. I don’t know if we’ll see him again. At the very least, we probably won’t see him for a while.”
She shrugged. “He never liked me anyway.”
“You will stay here, won’t you?”
“Where would I go?” she asked forlornly.
Aidan nodded in agreement before noting, “Your darkness is magnificent, by the way.”
“It is a lost art.” She gave what some might call a very small smile. “Cheeky bastard.”
Gaius was on his bed, letting his sister know he’d be home soon and to get the vote from the Senate so the legions would be ready to move as soon as he was there, when Kachka walked into the room, slamming the door behind her.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded.
“So many things, actually. Yet my handsome face and strong nature make it all meaningless.”
“My sister thinks we are bonded now.”
“We are. Just admit it.”
“I will admit nothing. But I will especially not admit that.”
“So,” Gaius said, choosing his words very carefully, “you’re saying you’re not strong enough to love me?”
Kachka, her hand on the doorknob, froze. “What?”
“Well, to bond yourself with a dragon in a world that looks down on that sort of thing . . . takes a special kind of strength.”
She faced him again, shaking her head. “You manipulate like a royal,” she accused.
“No, Kachka. I manipulate like a king.” Gaius slipped off the bed, eased his way around her. “A war king. Ima
gine that. Imagine what we can do together during this war. The Rebel King and the Scourge of the Gods.”
Behind her now, Gaius leaned in, nuzzled her ear, slid his hands around her waist.
“Duke Salebiri and his fanatics will loathe and fear us in equal measure.”
“I will take no orders from you. I will let no male rule me. Dragon or otherwise.”
“I don’t want to rule you. We work together. A team.”
“Eh,” she grunted, clearly not happy with that description.
“At least try it.”
“Fine. As long as we understand each other.”
“We understand each other perfectly.”
Gaius kissed her neck, stroked her hair. He’d begun easing her toward the bed when the door opened and Keita swept in, several multicolored eye patches in her hands.
“Look what I have for you, King Gaius!”
Kachka spun out of Gaius’s arms and slammed her hands against the She-dragon’s chest, shoving her back into the hallway.
“Away with you, female!”
“Rude cow!”
Kachka slammed the door in Keita’s face and threw the bolt down.
She then shoved Gaius toward the bed while snarling, “I should have killed that She-dragon the first time she suggested my sister wear a dress.”
“See, Kachka Shestakova?” Gaius said, falling back on the bed and happily watching her yank down his leather leggings. “We are perfect together.”
Epilogue
The arguing had been going on for almost three hours now. A few fights had broken out.
Lætitia had seen this coming. Had warned Aggie to be prepared. She’d been right. Senator Tyrus Gabinius of the House of Gabinius—an important human family—had ranted and raved about sending out their legions. The fight had started on Southland territory—why was that a problem for them?
And, as in all politics, Tyrus had those loyal to him. So the Senate was now divided. Many were for sending out legions before Salebiri became too big to fight. The others disagreed strongly.
Aggie, however, was about at the end of her tether. Her brother might enjoy all this back-and-forth, but she didn’t. Not when the stakes were this high.
She glanced to her left. The Mì-runach who protected her stood close to her chair. It wasn’t called a throne, but that’s what it was. And, like any monarch would be, she was tempted to unleash them on all these idiots.
A bad decision, she knew, but still . . . the temptation was definitely there.
Aggie gave the dispute another thirty minutes before she was utterly and completely done.
“My lords,” she said, but the dragons and human ignored her. “Senators, please.”
Still they argued on, until Aggie stood. She took in a breath and then unleashed her flame against the thick marble floor. It melted the stone in the middle, a zigzagging line going straight down the aisle separating the arena seating.
The Senators immediately fell silent, and Aggie carefully folded her hands in front of her.
“Senators . . . normally, I would enjoy all of this brilliant and exciting discussion. Debating the pros and cons of the issues of the day. But that is a luxury we no longer have. Not anymore.”
“So,” Tyrus Gabinius stated loudly, “you’re going to force us into a decision. Is that it? Well, the House of Gabinius will not agree to a declaration of war.” He stepped down from the seats into the middle of the aisle, arms thrown wide. Like the finest orator in the land.
Aggie walked down the small steps from her chair to the Senate floor. With her hands still clasped in front of her, she made her slow, methodic way to Tyrus. When she was finally in front of him, she said, “The majority of the Senate has made its decision. So, Tyrus Gabinius, deny us this, hold your legions back from what the Empire needs . . . and my brother and I will take everything from you and your family. We will leave not enough for even the crows to dine upon.”
She gave a small smile. “Do you understand me, Senator?”
He didn’t respond, but she didn’t need him to. She nodded at the others. “Senators. Always a pleasure.”
With her piece said, Aggie made her way out of the Senate, the Mì-runach right behind her as she walked back to the palace. She was nearly in her throne room when Lætitia suddenly stepped in front of her, blocking her path.
“You have a problem,” Lætitia announced.
“And good afternoon to you, Aunt.”
“I don’t have time for niceties. Not after what your brother’s done.”
Assuming her aunt had somehow heard about Gaius’s clash with Vateria, she replied, “I will not discuss my brother’s decisions with you. That’s between us.”
“And that barbarian!”
Confused, Aggie asked, “What barbarian?”
Gripping her arm, Lætitia dragged Aggie down the hall and into the throne room.
“That barbarian,” she announced, pointing a damning finger at the woman sitting on Aggie and Gaius’s throne. She didn’t sit there like a queen, but as if she’d just slumped down in the seat because it was available.
“I know her.”
“You do?”
“Yes. Back in the Southlands. Gaius helped her sister or something. I don’t see what the problem is, though.”
“He was kissing her.”
Aggie blinked. “Pardon?”
“You heard me.”
“Aggie!”
Aggie pulled away from her aunt and ran across the room into her brother’s arms. He lifted her up and spun her. She kissed him on both cheeks.
“I’m so glad you’re safe,” she told him when he finally put her back on the ground. “And that you did the right thing.”
He frowned a bit. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “My brave brother.”
She glanced at the woman still sitting in their throne. “I see you’ve brought a friend.”
“Yes.” He led Aggie to the woman’s side. “Aggie . . . this is Kachka.”
“You will not give her my whole name, dragon?”
“I love her too much to torture her with all that.”
“I remember you. You and your sister.”
“Elina.”
“Do I get an introduction?” Lætitia asked.
“Well—”
“Gaius,” Aggie cut in before her brother could say something they’d all regret.
He took a breath. “Lætitia Clydia Domitus. This is Kachka Shestakova.”
Lætitia suddenly stepped back, eyes wide. “You . . . you brought the Scourge of the Gods here?”
Aggie frowned. “The Scourge of the what?”
Gaius tapped Kachka’s shoulder. “Hey, look at that. Your name has made it to the Empire. Look how terrifying you’ve become.”
“How can you joke about this?” Lætitia snapped.
“What do you care, royal, that I am Scourge of Gods?” Kachka flatly asked their aunt. “Have you committed some great sin that will bring me to you as punishment?”
“No.”
“Then do not worry.” She stood. “While my comrades bathe in your giant tub, I will go out and hunt something down for dinner.”
“I’m sure we have enough food in the kitchens for everyone,” Aggie offered.
“I do not need your pathetic sheep to feed me.”
“Lovely girl,” Aggie said to her brother.
“Isn’t she great?” he asked, his grin spread across his entire face. Aggie couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him so happy.
“Are you two kidding?” Lætitia snapped. “I mean, that woman—”
“Could you excuse us, Aunt Lætitia?” Aggie asked.
“I—” she began, but when Aggie snarled a little, the She-dragon threw up her hands. “Fine! But we’re not done discussing this!”
They waited until their aunt had stormed off; then they began giggling.
“She is never going to forgive you, brother,” Aggie sa
id around her laughter.
“I know. But some things simply can’t be helped.”
“Is your barbarian worth it?”
“More than you realize.”
Happy for her brother, Aggie hugged him just as they heard Aunt Lætitia yelling at Kachka Shestakova’s comrades somewhere in the palace, which probably meant they were using her bath.
“I’ll deal with it,” Gaius said, pulling away from his sister. He got a few steps before he stopped and said, “Oh. I wanted to give you this.”
Aggie scrunched up her nose when her brother held out a sword to her.
“What do you want me to do with that?”
“I got it from . . . someone. It’s not really for me, though. But Kachka suggested that I should probably teach you a few things. It never hurts to be able to defend yourself during a war.”
“But I’ve got the lugheads,” she reminded him, gesturing to the Mì-runach who stood on the other side of the throne room door.
“Aggie.”
“Oh, all right! Give it to me.” She snatched the weapon from her brother and watched the color drain from his face as he stumbled back a few feet.
“What?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”
Gaius suddenly grabbed her arm and dragged her into a small dressing room just off the throne room. There he pulled her in front of a large standing mirror.
“Oh . . . my.”
The elaborate silver armor covered Aggie from head to foot. Even the sword was no longer plain.
Aggie shoved the weapon back into her brother’s hands and, as soon as she no longer held it, the armor was gone and she was back in the dress of a Sovereigns ruler.
“Put that somewhere . . . away,” she told him.
“But—”
“Away.”
Gaius took his sister’s hand. “I’ll get it a sheath. Put it by your bed. If you ever need it, especially while human, it’ll be there.” He squeezed her hand. “All right?”
“All right.” She licked her suddenly dry lips. “Where the hells did you get that thing anyway?”
“From a god. A very helpful god. Who knew exactly what I needed. To keep you safe whether I’m with you or not.”
Aggie shook her head. “You do understand that we didn’t have these problems until we allied with the Southlanders?”
