Dragon on Top

“What the hells was that?” Kleitos cried out, holding his head.

“You deserved it.”

“Barbarians,” Kleitos accused him. “All the Land Dwellers are nothing but barbarians!”

“That is enough, Kleitos,” a female voice ordered and nearly every male in the chamber dropped to a knee in supplication. Bram, however, merely bowed his head.

“My Lord Bram.”

“Empress Helena.”

The dragoness circled him. “You do look the worse for wear,” she told him, her claw brushing his shoulder. “What have you been up to?”

“I’m sorry to have dropped in like this, Empress. But I really had no choice. I was set upon and—”

“Yes, yes. The ones who followed you were slain by my soldiers. They were foolish to follow you down here.” She stopped in front of him, green-blue eyes looking him over. “Foolish for you to come back. I let you go once, Land Dweller. Who is to say I’ll feel so kindly toward you a second time?”

“It was not my first choice to come here, Empress, but to be quite honest . . . I really didn’t have another option.”

“And that?” she asked, pointing at Ghleanna with a dark green claw.

“She is with me and helped save my life. I’ll do what I have to to protect her.”

“Will you now?” The Empress moved closer. Her scales, like the scales of her people, fascinated Bram because they constantly changed colors the way the sea around them changed colors. Swirling from blue to dark green to light pink to another shade of blue. It was a beautiful sight to behold—when you felt confident they wouldn’t kill you for sport. “That’s very interesting.”

She moved away, heading out of the cavern. “Keep them both alive,” Helena tossed over her shoulder. “At least until I change my mind.”

“It must be your lucky day,” Kleitos observed once Helena and her entourage had left. “Bram of the Land Dwellers.”

Sneering, Bram jerked his head a little and the bastard quickly scrambled away, hiding behind a few soldiers.

“Barbarians,” the Fin hissed. “All of you.”

And why would Bram argue with him?

Ghleanna knew someone was sitting on her chest. Someone extremely heavy. Addolgar? He’d done it before. He’d tried to smother her once with a buffalo.

But when Ghleanna forced her eyes open, all she saw were some strange looking dragons standing around her. All with scales in varying shades of green, blue, and yellow; and long braided hair that constantly shifted color whenever the light changed around them. And fins. Rather than horns on their heads, as any true dragon had, this lot had fins.

Fins? What kind of dragon had . . . ?

Gods. Sea Dragons. Sea Dragons were surrounding her. Why? Were they trying to kill her? Or, even worse . . . experiment on her? The Fins had been known to do that sort of thing. They considered themselves intellectuals and superior to all other dragon species—the way all the other dragons considered themselves superior to each other. But where those on land were content to kill each other in battle, the Fins tended to avoid conflict. But those who strayed too far into their watery territory might be used to test out the Fins’ many potions and poisons and all manner of terrible things.

Moments from unleashing her flame to remove the Fins from her presence, a familiar and welcome face leaned over her. “It’s all right, Ghleanna. They’re here to help you. Just relax. Sleep.” Without her making one move, Bram had known what she was planning and had eased her discomfort. Such a useful dragon, that one. And so very cute.

“Sssh. Sleep.” He stroked her hair with his talons. “Shut your eyes and sleep.”

And, feeling much safer, that’s what Ghleanna did.

It had taken much work from not only the surgeons but the Empress’s personal wizard guild to save Ghleanna’s life. While the wizards kept her heart beating and her brain functioning, the surgeons had worked quickly to repair her lungs and the damaged artery caused by that traitor’s weapon.

And for that, Bram would make sure Feoras paid dearly, for Bram’s mercy only went so far.

Now he sat beside Ghleanna’s prone form and held her claw in his, waiting for her to wake. But he was anxious and with good reason. When he’d seen Kleitos scurry from the cave, smiling and giggling like a child, Bram knew no good could come of it.

It had been a few decades since Bram had been in the underwater lairs of the Fins, and it had been under very different circumstances. Circumstances he had no intention of repeating. This time, however, he was no hatchling of a dragon. And this time he had so much more to protect. But he wasn’t talking about bloody truces or alliances.

“You dare,” Helena’s voice softly demanded from behind him, “bring that here? Into my court?”

Getting to his claws, exhaustion making him much slower than usual, Bram said to the monarch, “I do not understand, Empress.”

“That,” she said again, pointing at a still-unconscious Ghleanna. “You brought that here. Abusing my good nature”—her good what?—“and risking my subjects.”

“I still don’t understand—”

“A Cadwaladr!” she bellowed. “You brought a Cadwaladr into my palace!”

Shit.

“Kleitos said you called her Ghleanna. Is that Ghleanna the Decimator? Sister of that bastard Bercelak?”

“Empress—”