Dragon Actually

“Really? And why is that?” She gripped the handle of the dagger with one hand, while checking the sharpness of its blade with the other.

“I just don’t think he could appreciate a woman like you.”

“And you?”

Gwenvael gave that smile that had gotten him more pleasure than he cared to admit. “I am not my brother, lady.”

That’s when she moved.

She was up and across the room, snatching him out of his chair in mere seconds. Annwyl slammed him face down on the table, her knee against his back to hold him in place. The point of her blade burrowed into the skin of his neck. As human, that blade could easily kill him.

She leaned in and spoke quietly. “I don’t know what’s going on between you and your brother. And I don’t want to know. But I’ll not be the bone between you two dogs. So take yourself from my sight. I am in no mood.”

With that she lifted him off the table and shoved him from the chamber.

The crazed bitch had more strength than he had known, he realized as she sent him tumbling from her presence.

He fell and slid across the cave floor, coming to an abrupt stop when a large boot slammed into his head. He looked up and braved a smile. “Oh. Hello, brother.”

With a growl, Fearghus lifted him off the ground by the back of his neck.

Morfyd reached down and pulled an Aouregan root. The materials she collected were for a spell that might help her destroy the protective barriers surrounding Lorcan. But she found the yelling simply too distracting. And when her baby brother literally flew over her head and landed in a heap not a quarter league from her, she decided it was time to say something.

“Fearghus!” She stepped in front of her advancing brother and put her hand on his chest. “Leave him alone.”

“Just let me kill him. Please.”

Morfyd bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. After all these years her brothers still couldn’t get along.

“No. She’ll never forgive you if you kill him. She still resents you for his tail.” To this day she remembered her three other brothers playing catch with the tip of Gwenvael’s tail and her mother raging like never before. It was funny then and it was still funny now.

“I hate him, Morfyd. I hate him.”

“I know.” She patted her brother’s shoulder. “But he is all our burden to bear. Our pain.”

“You know what?” Gwenvael jumped up, his rage pouring off him in waves. “You’re all bastards. And I hope the lot of you rot in hell.”

“You just stay away from her, you little toe-rag!”

“What’s wrong, big brother? Can’t handle your woman?”

Morfyd barely dodged in time to avoid the fireball Fearghus let loose. But it hit Gwenvael full in the chest, sending him flying back into the trees.

“Keep him out of my sight, sister.”

“Fearghus . . .”

“No!”

She’d never seen her brother so angry. And she had the distinct feeling it had very little to do with Gwenvael’s presence—for once.

“Wait.” She caught up to Fearghus and grasped his arm. “Gwenvael brought a message.”

Fearghus stopped walking. “From who?”

She smirked. “Who do you think? And he’s not happy. He doesn’t want us involved in this Sibling War.”

Fearghus looked at his sister. “And this means what to me?”

She sighed. “We can’t just ignore him.”

“I can and I will. You do whatever it is you need to do, sister.”

He snatched his arm away and walked back into his cave. She wouldn’t bother going after him. There would be no point. She knew as soon as she got the message from Gwenvael that this would only set Fearghus’s resolve. He never liked anyone telling him what to do . . . anyone.

She heard Gwenvael moaning and headed toward the sound. Then Morfyd stopped. She sniffed the air and looked around her. She felt a presence. Something deadly and evil. She had to move quickly. She began a chant in her ancient tongue, and soon flames covered her body. Flames that didn’t burn. She wrote sigils in the air and, with a roar that shook the glen, she sent the flames off.

Once the flames disappeared from her sight, she again headed off toward Gwenvael. She would tend her little brother’s wounds and hope that Fearghus didn’t merely open them up again tomorrow.

Hefaidd-Hen flew back out of his chair and across the room, slamming into the far wall. He collapsed to the floor and stayed there. His head feeling as if it might split open, his body racked with lightning strikes of pain. He should be dead. And, if he were any other wizard, he would be.

Two of his three acolytes were immediately by his side. “Master?” He slapped their hands away and continued to sit on the floor. He gasped for air, stunned.

So, it had been Morfyd. The Dragon Witch. That explained so much.

He smiled, even through the pain, and watched as his apprentices fearfully backed away from him.

Fearghus shifted back to dragon before returning to his lake. He was glad he had, too, because Annwyl waited for him. She sat on one of the large boulders that, because of its height, would bring them eye to eye. Her wet hair told him she’d bathed. Probably trying to wash him off, attempting to remove his scent from her body. That tore his heart more than he could admit.

But when she saw him and smiled, he became completely confused. It was the warmest smile he’d ever seen and she seemed absolutely relieved by his presence.