Dragon Actually

Annwyl looked up just as the queen let loose a ball of flame that threw her from the chamber.

Morfyd and her three siblings waited outside the queen’s chamber. Éibhear, the youngest brother, anxiously jumped around them. “When are we going? When? When?”

Briec calmly looked at him. “You ask that question one more time, and we’re going to shave your head . . . again.”

Éibhear sunk into a moody silence as Morfyd wondered what kept the girl so long. She risked Fearghus’s wrath by bringing Annwyl here and taking her to the queen. There was every chance the girl would not survive. But she had to risk it and Annwyl agreed. In her more than two hundred years alive, she never knew a braver human. One willing to face the Queen of Dragons. And Morfyd had warned her. Warned her that the queen had no sympathy for humans. Annwyl had laughed. Not dismissively, but after fighting

off Bercelak a lack of sympathy just didn’t sound that scary to her. So she walked in alone to face the one being who could protect her or turn her to ash where she stood.

Morfyd still had no idea which the queen would choose. She gave up long ago trying to guess her moods and whims. All she could hope for now was that her fondness for Fearghus kept the girl alive.

The siblings stopped talking. They all heard it. The unmistakable sound of air sucked into lungs. They all turned to each other, just as a ball of flame flew out of the chamber. It hit the wall and crashed against the floor.

“Oh, gods! Annwyl!” Morfyd and Gwenvael rushed over as Annwyl rolled herself on the floor to put the flame out. But by the time they reached her the flame disappeared.

No. That wasn’t right. It didn’t disappear. It went in to her. Her skin soaked up the flame. Annwyl, however, still screamed and rolled around, completely unaware that the fire was gone.

Morfyd caught hold of her. “Annwyl! Annwyl! It’s all right!”

After a few moments, Annwyl stopped. She rolled into a ball and breathed in gulps of air, her entire body shaking. They all waited. Silently. Expecting her to snap out of it. But the queen’s voice called from inside her chamber, “It’s not over yet, my loves.”

That’s when Annwyl started screaming again. Not in fear and panic. But in pure, unbridled pain. “Get it off me! Get it off me!” She ripped off her surcoat and her chainmail shirt and dug at the flesh on her throat and neck. “Get it off me!”

Morfyd hit the girl with a spell that knocked her out instantly. Annwyl fell back and Morfyd looked closely at her.

“What are those markings?” Gwenvael asked, next to her.

“I don’t know.” Morfyd ran her hand along the flesh and felt something right under the skin. Something imbedded in the girl’s flesh. Something that she knew hadn’t been there a few hours before. Within seconds the markings turned a deep rich brown and Morfyd gasped. “The Chain of Beathag!”

Gwenvael stared in awe. “She gave her that?”

Briec snorted in disgust. “The only reason she gave that to this human was because of Fearghus.”

“Well, she never liked you,” Gwenvael muttered.

“Amazing br**sts,” Éibhear noted casually.

“Would you control yourself,” Morfyd snapped at her oversized baby brother. She lifted the girl up. “Help me get her clothes back on. We need to get her out of here quickly and don’t let the others see.” The dragon court would find out about the queen’s gift soon enough.

Her chainmail was scorched. Her hair was darker, the gold streaks that ran through it brighter. And her skin looked like she’d spent several days under the hot desert suns of Alsandair. But other than that, Annwyl lived.

They dressed her quickly and stood her up; Gwenvael took one arm, Briec the other. Morfyd muttered a counter spell and Annwyl awoke, still screaming.

“Annwyl!” She’d made sure to put a healing spell on her chest to stop the pain. She grabbed the girl by the face and yelled her name again.

Annwyl finally stopped screaming. She looked around.

“Better?”

Annwyl’s eyes latched on to her, and that infamous rage exploded around her. “What did that bitch do to me?”

“I heard that!” The siblings all cringed and began dragging Annwyl down the stairs, ignoring the girl’s angry protests. But when she shuddered and began to shake uncontrollably, they stopped.

Morfyd pushed the girl’s hair from her face. “You all right, Annwyl?”

After a few moments, Annwyl nodded. Gods, the girl carried some strength within her. More strength than even some dragons possessed.

“I’ll be fine. Just give me a bit . . .” Annwyl’s eyes focused on Éibhear. “Your hair is blue.”

“I’m a blue dragon,” he announced with his usual pride. Morfyd rolled her eyes. Éibhear did love his blue hair.

Annwyl glanced at Morfyd. “Another brother?”

Morfyd shrugged as they went up another flight of stairs, meeting Bercelak at the top.

He looked down at Annwyl. “So she survived?”

“Looks that way, Father.” Morfyd answered, a little smugly.

Annwyl, still supported by Gwenvael and Briec, raised her head and looked at Bercelak with narrowed accusing eyes. “Why is the queen chained inside her chamber?”

Morfyd closed her eyes in utter embarrassment. For the love of . . .

Bercelak’s relationship with their mother never failed to either embarrass or annoy all their children. If she didn’t know for a fact that they loved each other more than anything, Morfyd would have divorced herself from the clan long ago out of sheer disgust.