Chapter Thirty-Six
Brannie and Izzy sat on one of the hills looking down at what was left of the battleground.
They were silent for a very long time, gazing at their soldiers killing any Zealots still left. Annwyl didn’t want any captives. She just wanted the Zealots wiped out.
A few had probably escaped but Brannie doubted the power of the cult would return. Who would want to be part of a defeated, eyeless cult?
Suddenly Izzy looked at her and asked, “Who gets trapped under a mountain?”
Brannie laughed. “It just went down.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t fly away. You must have been distracted.” Izzy smirked. “Was it Aidan distracting you?”
“Nope. It was Caswyn. He ate me horse.”
Izzy gasped. “Not Puddles!”
“My Puddles. I should have killed the idiot when I had the chance, because now it’ll just seem wrong after all we’ve been through together.”
“I’m sure I could get his Mì-runach brethren to beat him up for you.”
“Don’t bother. It won’t bring back Puddles.”
Izzy put her arm around Brannie’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you a new horse. It won’t be Puddles, but you’ll learn to love your next one, too.”
“I know you’re right.”
Izzy rested her head on Brannie’s shoulder and quietly admitted, “I’m so glad you’re not dead.”
“Me too.”
“And I’m glad you’re back.”
“Iz, you have no idea. Keita’s insane.”
“Oh, that I know.”
“There you are.” Éibhear dropped down next to Izzy and handed her a leather bag with dried meat. “Eat. Both of you.”
Brannie was just reaching for the bag when Aidan sat down next to her, Uther next to him, and Caswyn next to Uther.
“You all right?” Aidan asked.
“I’m fine.” That’s when she felt Izzy jab her in the ribs with her elbow.
Brannie snatched the bag of dried meat from her friend and barked, “Stop it.”
Izzy leaned forward and for a second of panic, Brannie was afraid her best friend was about to say something that would embarrass her in front of Aidan.
Thankfully she didn’t.
“Caswyn! You ate Puddles?”
“Awww,” Éibhear said, also leaning forward to look at his friend. “Not good ol’ Puddles!”
Caswyn balled his hands into fists and screamed out, “He was dying anywayyyyyyy!”
* * *
Annwyl heard a scream and turned around, looking up at the hills in the distance.
“So,” she asked Fearghus, continuing on with their conversation, “Brannie was gone, too?”
“Aye. We thought she’d been killed when the mountains went down.”
“Tough like her mother, that one.”
“Very true.” She heard him take a breath. “Annwyl . . . we have an issue.”
She faced her mate. “The Salebiri castle, right? I say we raze it to the bloody ground, salt the earth, and cover it with rocks. I don’t want anyone coming here to worship.”
“I’m not talking about the castle.”
“Oh, then what?”
Fearghus gestured to the left. “You can’t keep your demon army.”
“But they said I was their queen.”
“Annwyl—”
“Oh, come on! Why can’t I have a demon army? I killed their leader. Apparently that’s all it takes.”
“They belong in hell. They’ll be happier in hell. I’ll be happier with them in hell.”
Annwyl looked at Fearghus’s kin huddled by a tree, closely watching the demons.
“What do you lot think?”
“Send them back!” they all yelled at her.
“Well, no need to bark at me.” She again looked at Fearghus. “Fine. I’ll send them back.”
“Thank you. Now what about the cattle? The ones the demons call the corpse-eaters?”
“But look at the bang-up job they’ve done cleaning up for us,” Annwyl argued. “Usually we have to burn all these bodies, which is an awful mess and smell. But look . . . they’re halfway done and they’re just calmly grazing.”
“Annwyl . . . you’ll have to send them back, too. And that includes the baby.”
“But we’ve bonded!” she argued. “And the mother likes me.”
“But you’d never separate a mother from her baby, so we all know that you’ll want to keep both.”
“I like his mother.”
“No. You’ll have to send your demons back to hell.”
“You’re all being unreasonable, but I’ll do it.”
“You can wait til they’re finished grazing, though,” one of Rhy’s daughters said, causing everyone to stare at her. “You lot won’t be the one who has to burn bodies. Me and the grunts will. So let them finish.”
“Lazy,” Ghleanna complained before walking away, the rest of the Cadwaladrs going off to get their work done.
When they were alone, Fearghus gazed down at Annwyl and said, “You went to one of the hells and you came back with an army. That’s impressive.”
Annwyl shrugged. “He wanted our children, and he was planning to use me to do it. You know how that sort of thing makes me.”
“Insane with rage?”
“Exactly.” Annwyl stepped closer and whispered to Fearghus, “My father and brother were down there.”
“What? You saw them?”
“They came for me. To hurt me.”
“What happened?”
“Broke me brother’s arm, didn’t I? And when I dealt with the demon lord, he ran away like the big wanker he always was.”
“And your father?”
“I let the baby eat him since he was basically a corpse anyway.”
Fearghus started laughing. “You what?”
“He apparently was quite disappointed that I fuck a dragon and felt the need to tell me that, which was rude.”
Still laughing, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. “Annwyl the Bloody, you never fail to amaze me.”
“I did tell him that he should get to know his grandchildren and that Talwyn, especially, would adore meeting him.”
Fearghus dropped his head back and laughed loud, some of the soldiers stopping their work to see what the dragon known as Fearghus the Destroyer could be laughing about.
* * *
Ghleanna the Decimator was now the rank of major general of Her Majesty’s Dragon Army. She had been promoted to the position three years ago and was put in charge of the Fifth Battalion.
It hadn’t been easy getting this rank. She’d worked her ass off for it. And although some tried to accuse the Cadwaladrs of nepotism, giving their own an easy time of it, everyone eventually learned there was no free ride for any of them. In fact, Cadwaladrs were brutally hard on their own kin during training because they cared more if one of their own died in battle. They felt they’d failed to prepare them.
Which was why Ghleanna had always worried about her Branwen more than some of her other offspring. She’d been afraid the brutal training would change who she was. Would take away that spark that made Branwen Brannie.
But eventually Ghleanna had realized she had nothing to worry about.
Standing by a tree, she watched her daughter talking to her cousin-by-mating and best friend Izzy, telling some story about drunk Caswyn, Uther, and the Riders. And Branwen didn’t simply talk . . . she acted it all out as well.
“So, of course, I shoved him into the wall,” Brannie said, throwing out her arms to demonstrate the force she’d used. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? He ate Puddles.”
“Still can’t believe he did that.”
“I still can’t believe those two idiots told the Riders everything! Then we had Riders with us! Not that I minded. I mean, you can’t beat having Kachka at your side.”
“I know! She’s bloody amazing in a fight!”
“But, of course, Keita is complaining. Constantly! And I’m worried she’s going to poison everybody. Like no one’s safe!” she announced, her arms going wide.
Ghleanna laughed, as always entertained by her youngest daughter.
Brannie turned, saw her mother, and ran to her, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tight. None of that “we’re on a battlefield, we’re in charge, we must be stoic until in private” stuff for her Brannie. She showed love where and when she wanted and didn’t care who saw. Of course, the only one really bothered by that was Bercelak but Ghleanna also knew that Brannie was his favorite niece.
Ghleanna pushed her daughter back and took her hands in her own. “I want to tell you that you did an amazing job, Brannie. I know you didn’t want to do any of this, but I’m really glad you did.”
“I’m glad I did it, too. I think any of my sisters or cousins would have killed Keita right from the start.”
“Did you hear?” Izzy asked, slinging her arm over Bran’s shoulder.
“Shut up, Izzy,” Brannie warned, which made Ghleanna want to hear whatever was going on immediately.
“Our Branwen has a gentleman suitor.” Izzy frowned, looked off, and changed it to, “Gentle-dragon suitor.”
Brannie rolled her eyes but so did Ghleanna.
“That’s nothing new,” Ghleanna told her niece. “Everyone knows Aidan likes my Branwen. And he’s liked her for ages now.”
Brannie pulled away from her mother. “That’s not true!”
“Branwen.”
And that was all Ghleanna said before walking away, leaving her daughter standing there, annoyed and frustrated.
* * *
“What was that tone?” Brannie asked Izzy.
“I think that was your mother’s version of ‘duh.’”
Brannie stepped close to Izzy and pointed her finger right in her face. “Listen to me and listen to me good. Aidan and I are not—”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!” Izzy covered her ears with her hands. “I’m not listening! I’m not listening! I’m not listening!” And she kept chanting that over and over while running away.
Brannie put her hands to her forehead and rubbed.
“You all right?” Aidan asked as he came to stand by her.
“Everyone I know is insane.”
“Are you just figuring that out?”
“Oh, shut up!”
“Fair enough. Here.” He held a bottle in front of her. “Ragnar gave me a bottle of—”
“Ale!” She grabbed the bottle from his hand. “Thank the gods!”
Brannie walked off, but realized Aidan wasn’t behind her.
“Well, come on then!”
“Am I allowed to come with my ale?”
“Oh, shut up and get your ass over here!”
* * *
Aidan found a nice, quiet cove outside of a nearby bay. He’d hoped to find a quiet cave but, of course, all the local mountains had been brought down by the Zealots and the hills were simply too small. Even when he and Brannie were human.
But the cove worked for them both. No one had anything fresh to eat—the armies had been at the front for months and months—but he did find more dried beef and some flat bread for them to eat while they enjoyed the Northlanders’ ale.
“So what’s wrong?” he asked when they were settled and Brannie had enjoyed a few sips—or gulps—of the ale.
“Nothing.”
“Really? Nothing? You’re gritting your teeth.”
“I’m not gritting my teeth.”
He pressed his finger against her jaw.
“All right, fine! I’m gritting my teeth.”
Aidan laughed. “And I ask again, what’s wrong?”
“I hate when everyone acts like things are written in stone. How about leaving things to me? Letting me handle things?”
“Brannie . . . you are in charge of two dragon companies with the nicknames Destruction and On Pain of Death. In what world are you not handling anything?”
“Why do you always have to be so bloody rational?”
“Are you aware of whom I associate with? Do you honestly not understand what I deal with on a daily basis?”
Brannie began to giggle.
“I love my brethren, would die for any one of them, but I have no delusions about their incredibly high level of idiocy. If it wasn’t for me and a few other Mì-runach who like to think things through . . . we’d all be dead.”
Laughing harder, Brannie nodded. “Fine. I get it. We all do what we must. That’s why Keita’s still alive and I didn’t stab her in the face.”
“I was amazed about that,” he admitted. “Several times I thought she was definitely dead.”
“It crossed my mind more times than I could ever admit to my kin.”
She took another swig of ale before handing it back to Aidan.
“Let’s stay here tonight,” she suggested, looking at him. “You and me. Fucking.”
Aidan smiled. “I will always enjoy your subtlety.”
“I’m a Cadwaladr. That was subtle.”
He raised the bottle. “Then here’s to a night of fucking.”
Brannie crawled into his lap, placing her knees on either side of his hips. She took the ale. “And drinking.” She took one more swig and handed it back to him.
Watching her, Aidan took a drink. When he lowered the bottle, Brannie put her arms around his shoulders and leaned in. She kissed him, long and deep, and Aidan immediately dropped the bottle so he could put his arms around her.
He pulled her in tight, automatically lifting his hips. They were both still dressed and yet he was already trying to fuck her. To be inside her.
Their kiss got deeper, more intense. Her hands moved to his hair. He gripped her waist. They began panting, clinging to each other.
That’s when Brannie jerked back, her breath harsh.
“What?” he asked, almost barking at her. He didn’t want to stop.
“This is it. Tonight.”
“This is what?”
“The end of it. You and me. This is our last night.”
“Gods, are we dying?” He began to panic. “Did you have a vision?”
“No!” She briefly closed her eyes, tried to calm down her breathing. “What I mean is this will be our last night of fucking. All right?”
“Uh . . . well . . . if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I’m positive!” Now she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “All right?”
Aidan couldn’t help but feel that Brannie was forcing herself to do this. Forcing herself to break off what they had because she didn’t want to deal with how she truly felt.
He knew he could fight her on this. Spend all night trying to get her to see reason, but he also knew that would never work. Not with Brannie. He’d just have to wait it out. Let her figure it out for herself.
But until she did . . . they had tonight.
And they had ale.
“All right.” He grabbed the bottle again, lifted it. “To our last night.”
She let out a relieved breath and smiled. “To our last night.”
* * *
Gaius Lucius Domitus found a quiet spot away from all the camp activity and sat down, his back against a tree stump.
He opened his mind and, finally, after months of no contact for the safety of everyone, he called to his sister.
Agrippina.
Gaius?
He smiled at just hearing her voice in his head.
It’s done, sister.
She’s . . .
It’s done.
Aggie was quiet and he knew she was dealing with the realization that the She-dragon who’d held her hostage for politics and tortured her for amusement was now dead. Dead and suffering in whatever hell she’d ended up in.
Will you be home soon? Aggie finally asked.
Back to Garbhán Isle first, then home. But if you want, you can meet me at Queen Annwyl’s—
No, thank you, she immediately cut in. I’ll just wait until you get home.
All right.
And I assume you’re bringing that Rider with you?
Gaius laughed. You know my mate adores you.
She calls me the weak one!
With affection!
Oh, shut up and go to sleep.
I am tired. I’ll talk to you when we arrive back in the Southlands.
All right. And Gaius . . .?
Uh-huh.
I love you, brother.
And I love you, sister. Forever and always.
* * *
The two suns rose and Brannie instantly woke up. And, as soon as she did, she wished she didn’t have to.
She’d had too much to drink, that was for sure, but it didn’t matter, she’d had a great time. And now it was over. Done. She could walk away from Aidan and not look back. They’d just be good friends from now on with no regrets.
Pleased with that, she started to get up. She knew she’d have to get her troops moving. Bercelak wanted them heading back to Garbhán Isle in the next few hours and she wasn’t about to be the one to get on the wrong side of her cranky uncle.
But when she tried to get up, she realized Aidan’s arm was around her, holding her tight.
Laughing a little, she reached down to pull his arm away. But instead of human flesh . . . she felt scales under her talons.
Brannie froze, eyes wide. Especially when she realized that Aidan wasn’t just holding her . . . he was inside her. And his tail was entangled with her own.
“That mother—”
* * *
“—fucker!”
Aidan snapped awake, his arm reaching out for his sword, assuming he was under attack.
And he was . . . from Brannie.
“We had a deal!” she screamed at him.
“What?”
“You lying, son of a—”
Aidan grabbed her forearms to stop her from tearing his scales off and . . . and . . .
Oh, shit.
Aidan looked down at himself. He was dragon. Brannie was dragon.
And his cock was still wet.
Brannie swung at him, but Aidan rolled away and to his feet. They squared off against each other on either side of the cove.
“You tricked me!” she accused.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me! You got me drunk and you tricked me! But that doesn’t mean anything! That means nothing!”
“I tricked you? I got you drunk? Because suddenly I’m a human male and naturally do horrible things to females?”
Aidan used his tail to grab the bottle of Northlander ale. He held it in front of Brannie and flipped it over. Half the bottle—the remainder—poured out.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“I’ve seen you put away three bottles of Rider ale that left you almost comatose. But half a bottle of Northlander ale that we shared? You might as well be drinking water.”
“Your point?”
“You weren’t drunk. We both knew what we were doing last night. We both remember every second of it. And since we’re putting it out there—”
“Don’t you dare say it.”
“—I’m in love with you. There. Said it. Now what? Now what are you going to do, Captain?”
The fireball hit Aidan right in the face and a lesser dragon would have been knocked back for miles, but his bastard brothers used to throw fireballs at him as entertainment from the time he could crawl.
But when the flames subsided, Brannie had flown off, leaving Aidan alone by the bay.
Head bowed, he took a moment to calm down. He wasn’t about to chase after her. Capture her. Chain her up. Demand she listen.
No, no. That’s how other dragons did things. Aidan was not like other dragons. He’d always known that long before Rhiannon the White had said as much to him upon their first meeting.
But he’d be damned if he’d let Branwen the Awful just storm out of his life!
If that crazy She-dragon thought it was over, she was very, very wrong.