Dragon on Top

But she enjoyed the arguing, enjoyed sitting on her throne and watching all of them go at it like wolves after a deer carcass, only to overrule them when they were done.

Even more annoying—she wanted Bram to be a witness to her power. As if he cared. As if any of this mattered when he could still feel Ghleanna’s skin under his fingers. Still taste her on his lips.

At the moment, that was all that mattered to him.

Bram.

Bram blinked, glanced around. Helena smiled at him.

Br-amm.

That sing-song voice. But . . . but that was impossible. Absolutely impossible. Only immediate kin could communicate with each other among dragon kind. He’d already been in touch with his parents and sister. He’d only told them that he was safe and caring for a wounded Ghleanna. He had not told them where he was caring for her. He knew how they would take it and he didn’t want them to worry.

So they wouldn’t contact him unless it was urgent—and this female voice was not his mother’s or his sister’s.

Br-ammmmm.

Good gods.

There you are, my little ray of sunshine!

Rhiannon? How are you . . . why are you . . . what is happening?

Calm down, Bram. Calm down.

But how?

My witch skills have advanced quite a lot lately. Soon I’ll be able to create a space so we can talk directly to each other. Won’t that be fun?

Actually . . . no!

Rhiannon giggled. Oh, Bram. Just so cute!

Ghleanna ate the cooked and seasoned fish and let the soldiers in the hall stare at her. Almost all of them were in human form—orders from their Empress, according to Anatolios. The royal was sucking up to Bram by sucking up to Ghleanna. That slut.

But Ghleanna would not worry about any of that now. She had other things to deal with.

“All right,” she said loudly, so the entire hall could hear her. And they all tensed a little, watching her closely as she pushed her seat back, stood, and sat down on the long table, her feet in her chair.

“What do you want to know about me?”

“What makes you think we want to know anything about you, Land Dweller?” a Fin from the back of the hall asked.

“Because I killed Grimhild the Vile. The Lightning warlord.”

“That’s a load of—”

“I tore him open from bowel to throat. I wear his horns on my battle helm and his scales are hammered into my shield. His teeth are a decorative necklace I wear at family gatherings.”

Another Fin stepped forward. “And what makes you think we’d believe that?” He stepped as close as he dared, appearing tough to his comrades, but still out of arm’s length. At least he was out of arm’s length for dragons who’d rarely fought as human before. “What makes you think that we’ll believe a little twat like you brought down Grimhild the Vile?”

Ghleanna slammed her foot down, breaking the wood chair into pieces. She picked up a leg and swung it. The soldier, unprepared, tried to block the blow with his arm, but Ghleanna spun, changed her trajectory, and sent him flying back twenty feet or so.

Biting pain hit her at the site of her recent wound, but she ignored it. Convincing herself she felt no pain, she tapped the chair leg against the palm of her hand and said, “Grimhild called me a twat, too.”

She smiled. A little. “So . . . would you lot like to hear how I brought the big bastard down?”

Why, Rhiannon, are you in my head?

First my question . . . are you all right?

And that’s what was different between Rhiannon and the old queen. Rhiannon actually gave a shit about her subjects.

I am perfectly well, Rhiannon. And Ghleanna is healing.

Good. Bercelak . . . he never says it, but he adores his sister. As do you, I think.

As do I . . . you know.

A soft laugh. My dear, sweet Bram. But . . . that female. The Empress. What does she want from you?

I don’t know—

Don’t lie to me, peacemaker. You wouldn’t be alive if she didn’t want something.

Why did he bother trying to hide anything from Rhiannon?

She wants a truce.

With me?

Aye. She’s quite . . . adamant about it. I can try to put her off until Ghleanna is at full strength but—

No, no. See what her terms are.

My Lady?

I am not my mother, peacemaker. I can be reasonable. It’s a new time for us all. A new time of hope and of change and of—

You want access to the coast so you can attack the Lightnings, don’t you?

And it is time for those barbarian Lightnings to bow down before me.

You want me to arrange peace with one breed so that you can destroy another?

Get me my truce, peacemaker. Make me a happy monarch.

And then—Rhiannon was gone.

Ghleanna walked out of the army dining hall, Anatolios and Demetrius behind her.

“You do eat well,” she told them.

“Aye.” Anatolios was a little more talkative than Demetrius.

“You must have good representation in your Senate.”

“Representation?”

Ghleanna slowed and stopped. She faced the two soldiers. “You do have representation? For the army? Older, ranking warriors who speak for you, ensure that you’re all fairly treated and compensated for risking your lives?”

“The Empress’s rule is absolute, as Chancellor Kleitos has pointed out to the rank and file many, many times.”

“Huh.” Ghleanna again headed toward her room. “That’s interesting.”

Bram eased into the room, trying to be quiet since Ghleanna was asleep. He placed notes he’d made for the truce on the small desk against the wall and debated whether to go back to work or not.