Chapter Thirty-Seven
Bram the Merciful stood on the top step and watched as Ghleanna dropped to the ground. She pulled in her wings, shifted to human, and walked toward him. Right behind her landed Brannie, and Bram let out a breath he’d been keeping in far too long.
Mother and daughter walked toward him, but Brannie was walking faster and Bram quickly realized his lovely daughter was pissed beyond all rational thought.
“Brannie?” he said as she walked past.
She stopped, came back, kissed Bram on the cheek, and then disappeared into the castle.
Ghleanna smirked as she walked up to him and hugged him tight.
“What’s happening?”
Laughing, she said, “You don’t want to know. I’ll just say . . . stay out of your daughter’s way for a bit.”
* * *
Celyn walked into the bedroom he shared with Elina Shestakova and stopped to stare at his baby sister’s feet sticking straight up in the air on the other side of the bed. He was sure it was her feet not only because of the size but because of the scar from where Celyn once bit her during a family brawl.
He moved farther into the room and found his sister was bent so that her head and most of her torso were under the bed.
Celyn placed his travel bag and sword in a corner, faced the bed, and took off running. When he was near the bed, he jumped, arms and legs spread wide, so that he landed hard on the mattress.
“Motherfucker!” his sister screamed out, the lower half of her body rolling forward so that her legs slammed into the floor.
Celyn laughed, even when his sister scrambled onto the bed and began pummeling him with her fists.
As he used his arms to protect his face, Elina and Kachka walked into the room, speaking to each other in their native language. Elina grabbed her bow and a quiver of arrows and left. Probably to do some hunting with Kachka.
“What, Kachka?” Celyn called out. “You can’t say hello?”
Kachka stopped in the doorway. “You are busy getting slapped like whore by own sister. Did not want to disturb.”
Elina closed the door, leaving Celyn alone with his baby sister and, by then, Brannie had worn herself out.
She stopped swinging her arms and dropped next to him, the pair gazing up at the ceiling.
“Feel better?” Celyn asked.
“What made you think something was wrong?”
“You only go upside down when you’ve had a bad day. The last time I saw you like that, you were pissed because Mum wouldn’t let you start your Dragonwarrior training. So what’s wrong now? Keita?”
“No. We found a way to work together.” Brannie turned her head to look at him. “Did you know she was a Protector of the Throne?”
“Everyone knows she’s a Protector of the Throne. I’ve told you myself that she was a Protector of the Throne, but you would just giggle and say, ‘Go on!’ After a while, I stopped trying to convince you.” He bumped her shoulder with his own. “Now tell me. What’s bothering you? It’s not a male, is it?” He frowned in disgust. “Please tell me it’s not a human man.”
“Gods, give me some credit!”
“But it is a male?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not Caswyn, is it?”
Brannie snorted. “No. It’s not Caswyn.”
“Don’t give me that tone. You’re the one who’s always liked them big and stupid. Just tell me if you need me to beat someone up.”
“No.” Brannie scratched her head. “Probably not.” She let out a breath. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Aidan easily found his baby sister by searching in the rafters of the queen’s stables. She was curled into a corner, doing her best to stay as hidden as possible.
“Have you been living up here since I left?” he asked when he’d finally tracked her down.
Orla rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, smudging dirt across her lower cheek. “I like it up here.”
Aidan sat down on one of the wood beams across from his sister. “Where’s our mother?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in—”
“Years?”
“Months. I don’t think she’s missed me, though.”
“I hear there’s going to be celebrations tonight in the Main Hall. Are you coming?”
Before Aidan could even finish that question, his sister’s face was curling into an expression of utter disgust at even the suggestion.
“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to come.”
“Good.” She had her legs pulled close. Her arms around her calves, her chin resting on her knees. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
“Me too.”
“Still . . . something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“I am.”
“Aidan?”
“Hmm?”
“With the war over . . . will we have to go back?”
“You mean to Stone Castle?”
Stone Castle was the home of the House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah, where Aidan’s kin had lived for centuries. The castle itself was built from the mountain face. But then the Zealots had launched an attack and Aidan’s mother, sisters, and one brother had fled to Garbhán Isle. His father, as far as Aidan knew, was still living among the dwarves deep inside the Western Mountains. And his brother Ainmire, who’d joined with the Zealots, even going so far as to remove his eyes . . .
Well, Aidan wasn’t exactly sure, but chances were great he was long dead.
“Don’t worry, little sister,” Aidan promised, “the queen currently owes me a great debt. So even if our mother wants you to go back with her, I’ll make sure you don’t leave Garbhán Isle unless you absolutely want to.”
His sister’s smile was small but brilliant because she used it so rarely.
“Thank you, Aidan.”
Aidan reached out and grabbed his sister’s hand. “Anything for you.”
* * *
Gwenvael walked up the castle stairs with his five youngest offspring hanging from him like monkeys. They’d met him out in the courtyard and he knew that no one had told them he’d arrived. They had simply known.
Laughing, the six of them made their way into the hall but stopped when a loaf of bread flew past Gwenvael’s head. Although, for once, it hadn’t been directed at him.
“Daddy!” Arlais called out when she spotted him. “Thank the gods!” She rushed over to him and said, “Now that you’re back, you can get control of this woman.”
“You mean your mother?”
“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.”
“I did,” Dagmar said, still sitting at the dining table, working on a stack of papers and attempting to enjoy her breakfast. “And yet I foolishly allowed you to live.”
“Oh!” Arlais snarled. “You are a horrid mother!”
“You’re right. I am a horrid mother. But now that your aunt Keita is back, you can feel free to head off to the Northlands with her and forget you ever knew me.”
“What? You don’t think I will?”
“I’m hoping you will.”
“Fine! That’s what I’ll do!”
“Well,” Dagmar suddenly bellowed back, “there’s the door! Don’t let it hit you in your snobby ass!”
Lifting her skirts, Arlais stormed out the double doors. Grabbing her stack of papers, Dagmar stormed from the Main Hall.
“I am so glad to be home!” Gwenvael announced to his giggling daughters.
A few seconds later, Var walked into the Main Hall from the back hallway. But as soon as he saw his father, he stopped, sighed, and stared.
Gwenvael threw his arms wide, a daughter still attached to each one, and cheered, “Son!”
Cringing, Var turned around and followed after his mother.
Gwenvael looked down at his grinning daughters. “So glad.”
* * *
Talaith was looking at a bolt of cloth for new dresses for her daughters. Dagmar was planning a party and she knew both her girls would want to dance and look beautiful.
Although the thought that Dagmar was planning a party shocked Talaith. That Northlander was usually the last one to enjoy a party. But then she’d found out the Eastlander royals were still in town and it suddenly made sense. Dagmar was nothing if not a politician.
“You weren’t even around to greet me, little witch!” Talaith heard from behind her.
She turned and gazed up into the violet eyes of the dragon she would love until she was called home to her ancestors. And with complete love and adoration she barked back, “When did I become the royal greeter of Garbhán Isle?”
“You’re my mate, woman! You should have been waiting for me with bated breath.”
“I have more important things to do than tend to your needs.”
“Such as?”
“Anything is more important than your needs!”
“Peasant!”
“Arrogant bastard!”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad I’m home.”
Talaith ran into his arms.
“I’m glad you’re home, too,” she whispered against his neck.
* * *
Rhiannon was sitting on her throne, bored out of her mind because she was being forced—literally forced—to be a gods-damn royal when her Mì-runach suddenly swarmed around her.
“Oooooh!” she giggled. “Activity!”
She watched royal dragons rush out of the chamber or attempt to hide in small caverns. Everyone seemed to be panicking and she had to admit, she was enjoying it all immensely.
Then Bercelak stomped into the chamber. His scales were damaged and his glower was so bad that it would terrorize the bravest dragon.
He came right to her, and even her Mì-runach moved out of the way once they realized it was Bercelak the Great and not some assassin.
Without a word, he put a metal cuff around her neck, took hold of the chain, and dragged Rhiannon from her throne and to their bedchamber.
* * *
After watching a laughing Rhiannon the White dragged from her own throne by a half-mad dragon, Xinyi looked at her son and asked, “Why are we here again?”
“Shhhh,” Ren said, leaning in close. “Ma. Be nice.”
“It was a valid question. I mean, what did I just see?”
“Love.”
Xinyi curled her lip in disgust. “Gods, these peasants.”
“Rhiannon is a queen.”
“Fine. Barbarians then. When are we leaving?”
“After the party.”
“Must we go?”
“Yes. Now be nice.”
Trying not to act disgusted by dragons who insisted on living in caves when they had gold to buy very nice palaces, Xinyi forced a smile at some Southland lord or other nodding at her in greeting and glanced around the chamber until she saw who was sitting behind her.
Blinking in surprise, Xinyi asked, “What are you lot doing here?”
Her eldest daughter frowned, and her siblings walked away, making obvious sounds of annoyance.
“We’ve been here,” Fang reminded her.
“Have you? Doing what?”
“Fighting in the battle with your army. Helping to save the world from a mad god. Remember?”
“No. But that was very nice of you.” She reached back and patted her daughter’s paw with her own. “Aren’t you a good . . . uhhhh . . .”
“Daughter?” Fang asked with a sneer.
“I know you’re my daughter. I remember! Usually.”
After Fang stalked off, Ren whispered to his mother, “You know you’re going to hell, don’t you, Ma?”
Giggling, Xinyi admitted, “From what I’ve heard about Annwyl’s time there, it’s not that bad.”
* * *
Arlais spun once. “What do you think?”
“Perfect!” Keita crowed about the dress she’d picked out for Arlais. “Gods, I’m good. I don’t know why anyone in the universe bothers to question my decision-making.”
“Because they’re all idiots.”
“You are so my favorite. Now”—Keita grabbed a few things off her dresser and headed toward the bedroom door—“come with me. The feast will be starting soon but there is someone you just have to meet.”
“Och! It’s not another simpering boy, is it?”
“As if I’d ever waste your or my time.”
Arlais followed her aunt out of the bedroom and down into the Main Hall. The servants had already put the food out and guests were starting to arrive.
Keita stopped at one of the tables and held up a teal-colored eye patch.
Letting out a very long, pained breath, Elina Shestakova looked away from the Riders she was speaking to and said, “Go away, demon female.”
“I told you!” Batu the tribal leader said, slamming his fist on the table. “I told all you females that Keita the Viper is demon. But no one listens.”
“Because you are penis-haver,” Zoya told him.
“Anyway,” Keita interrupted, her focus still on Elina, “don’t you want to look pretty for my cousin?”
Elina shook her head. “No.”
Keita swung the eye patch and said in a singsong voice, “It will look divine on you.”
“Why will you not go away?”
“Why do you Rider types always ask me that? All of you should feel blessed by my presence.”
Knowing this argument could go on for hours, Arlais snatched the eye patch from Keita, tore off the boring black one that Elina insisted on wearing every day, and quickly tied the new one into place.
“There,” Arlais said to the shocked group. “Now wear it, barbarian, and feel honored that my aunt even bothers to waste her time with you and your obvious lack of style!”
With that, Arlais grabbed Keita’s hand and dragged her toward the back hallway.
“I so adore you, my dearest niece,” Keita laughed.
“Well, she’s being so unreasonable! And I am done with unreasonable women!” she yelled as they passed her mother’s study, where Dagmar was still working before the feast.
Once they were outside, Keita took the lead and led Arlais down to one of the smaller lakes. As they approached, Arlais could see Ren of the Chosen talking to a man that she didn’t recognize.
Arlais stopped, pulling her aunt up short. “This is my mother’s plan, isn’t it?”
Keita turned, blinking in surprise. “What?”
“You brought me down here to talk to me about going to the Northlands with you and Ragnar and you’re hoping Ren’s charm will loosen me up. Well, just so you know, it won’t. And she just wants to get rid of me because I’m not a sycophant like her needy son!”
“Are you done?” Keita asked.
“Actually, I can go on for quite a while.”
“Don’t.” Keita pulled her along until they reached Ren and the man. But that’s when Arlais realized this wasn’t a man. It was an elf.
“Arlais, this is Gorlas. An old and very important friend of mine. Gorlas, this is my niece, the one I told you about.”
“Princess,” the elf greeted. “I’ve heard many interesting things about you.”
“Interesting?” Arlais asked her aunt. “You told him interesting things about me? Seriously?”
“You want interesting, my dear,” Gorlas explained. “Good things and bad things don’t really hold my attention. Because everyone is good or bad. But interesting . . .?”
Arlais crossed her arms over her chest and studied the two dragons and one elf who wanted to talk to her about how interesting she was.
“What is this about?”
“About your future,” Keita said.
“Does it require me to live in a cave?”
“No.”
“Do I need to read a lot of boring, boring books?”
“Just recipe books.”
“I don’t cook, Auntie. That’s what I have a staff for.”
Keita smirked. “Neither do I, Niece.”
Arlais stared at Keita and the others, confused. But then she remembered the rumors and whispers Arlais had always heard about her favorite aunt. About how Keita the Viper ruthlessly protected her mother’s throne with a poisonous skill that few, if any, among their kin had.
“Ohhhh. Recipe book.” Arlais grinned and winked at her aunt. “That does sound interesting.”
“Would you mind talking to me for a little while, Princess?” Gorlas asked.
“Not at all. But my mother . . .”
“I’ll take care of her,” Keita offered, and they all gazed at her silently, eyes wide.
“I meant,” Keita growled out between clenched teeth, “I’ll keep her busy.”
“Ohhhhhhh,” they all said together.
“Rude!” Keita sniped, heading back to the castle. “Just rude!”
* * *
Izzy and Rhi were nearly done putting flowers in Brannie’s hair as she sat in her chair and seethed.
“I’m not going,” she said again.
“You are going,” Izzy replied. “Or I will drag you there myself.”
“I don’t want to go.”
“You’re being unreasonable!”
“I am not!”
“He loves you,” Rhi said. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Everything! And shut up.”
Rhi gasped. “But I’m the nice one.”
“She’s right,” Talwyn said from her spot stretched out on the bed. “I’d be fine with you being unhappy.”
Talan sat on the floor, his back against the bed’s footboard and a book in his lap. “And I could go either way.”
“I hate all of you.”
“No, you don’t.” Izzy pulled Brannie out of the chair and looked her over. “Beautiful. Now go tell poor Aidan you love him, too.”
“I will not. He tricked me.”
“Aidan doesn’t trick anybody. He may have smooth-talked you into dragon sex but that would be about it.”
“I thought you were on my side!”
“Of course I’m on your side, idiot. And I want you to be happy. Aidan makes you happy.”
“I can be happy without him.”
“But why would you want to be?”
Surprised that the question came from Talan, they all looked at him.
“I mean, wouldn’t you want to be with someone who makes you happy?” he went on. “Why would anyone want to be with someone who doesn’t make them happy?” He blinked up at Brannie. “Do you want to be with someone who doesn’t—”
“Oh, shut up!” Brannie stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
“Gods,” Talwyn said with a shake of her head. “Is it me or does love sound miserable?”
“It’s you,” Izzy replied.
* * *
Brannie was halfway down the stairs when Aidan suddenly walked up, blocking her way.
She tried to step around him, but he stepped with her. She went the other way, and so did he.
“You going to talk to me now?” he asked.
“No.”
Brannie stepped again and so did Aidan.
“Are you going to move?” she asked.
“Are you going to talk to me?”
Brannie was seconds from exploding at Aidan when Celyn went by them. Her brother glanced at them as he passed, then he looked a little harder, his eyes narrowing on Aidan before he was all the way down the stairs and joining the others in the Main Hall, where the feast had already started.
That’s when Brannie smiled.
* * *
Aidan saw that smile and was about to make a run for it when Brannie took his hand.
“Come with me,” she purred, leading him to the hall.
Musicians began to play and Gwenvael and Keita were, as always, the first to start dancing, brother and sister swinging each other around the floor.
Brannie led Aidan into the middle of the room and faced him.
He knew Brannie loved to dance and maybe if they danced, she’d give him a chance. That was all he wanted. Just a chance.
Still smiling, she raised her hands to his face, cupping his jaw in her hands. Then she leaned in and kissed him. Right there in front of everybody.
When she pulled back, she didn’t smile . . . she leered.
“Good luck,” she said before walking across the hall and out the front doors.
Aidan looked after her, wondering what she was talking about. And, as he watched, Celyn suddenly stood in front of him . . . staring. Then Addolgar. Then Rhys the Hammer. Then Fearghus. Briec. Even Éibhear, his best friend.
Then Gwenvael, of all dragons, stopped dancing and came over, crossing his arms over his chest and glowering at Aidan.
Gwenvael. The one whose entire family referred to him as Gwenvael the Whore.
And then . . . there it was. There he was.
Bercelak the Great, glaring down at Aidan like an angry mountain.
But before the angriest dragon Aidan had ever known could rip out his throat, Bram the Merciful stepped in front of all of them and roared, “What have you done to my baby?”
* * *
Izzy paced in front of Brannie, ranting. “That was, by far, the meanest thing you’ve ever done!”
“If he wants me, he’ll have to fight for me.”
“That’s not a fight. That’s a slaughter!”
“Are you saying I’m not worth dying for?”
“Branwen, no one is worth that!”
Branwen looked away from her best friend. “I don’t want to discuss it anymore.”
“Oh, we’re discussing.”
“Oh, no, we’re not.”
“Yes. We are.”
“No. We’re not.”
“You go in there and fix this, Branwen. Right now.”
“Nope.”
They both growled and looked away from each other.
Standing there, seething, and trying not to worry about crying at Aidan’s funeral procession, Brannie noticed Caswyn coming across the courtyard leading a big war horse by his reins.
Brannie’s mouth dropped open and, needing an outlet for her panic and anger, she ran down the steps and over to him.
“If you eat him—” she began.
Caswyn immediately raised his hands, palms out, like he was trying to ward her off.
“It’s not for me! It’s not for me!”
“No one is eating him!” she snapped, yanking the reins from him and pulling the horse toward her.
“No, no. He’s not for eating. He’s for you. I bought him for you.”
“What?”
“Sam the horse dealer was in town. Aidan says that most of the Cadwaladrs get their horses from him.”
“He’s expensive.”
“I have some gold,” he said, looking a bit insulted. “Anyway, I picked another one, but Aidan said you’d like this one. Even though he’s cranky and scarred and considering how many times he’s bitten me in the back of the head . . . mean, but Aidan said this was more your type of horse. He’s strong, I know that. And if you bond with him, Sam says he’ll be loyal to you to the end. And I promise not to eat him if he gets killed in battle.” He glanced off. “That will not happen again, I can assure you.”
Caswyn shrugged. “Anyway, this is just a little something to say I’m sorry about . . . Puddles.”
“But you didn’t think you did anything wrong.”
“No, but . . . I want to stay friends with you, and Aidan said this would be a good way to start.”
“Aidan just came up to you and—”
“No. I went to him. I was thinking armor or a new weapon. You know, something like that. But he said, ‘You ate her horse. Get her a bloody horse.’ Once he said it, it made sense. And he knew just the kind of horse to get you . . . which is apparently big and mean.”
“Oh, gods!” Brannie gasped. “I’ve killed him.”
Caswyn’s eyes grew wide. “What?”
Brannie didn’t answer; she just ran back into the hall, but her male kin and Aidan were gone.
Imagining them burying the poor bastard alive in a grave, Brannie stood in the middle of the floor, turning in circles, looking for any sign.
That’s when she caught sight of her mother. With a disapproving shake of her head, Ghleanna jerked her thumb toward the back hallway and Brannie took off running.
She bolted through the back door but slid to a stop when she saw Aidan standing by her father’s book tower, gazing up at the sky.
Worried he was internally bleeding and would drop dead at any second, she charged over to him, stopping right in front of him.
“I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”
He peered at her. “You tried to get me killed.”
She opened her mouth to absolutely deny it but all that came out was, “Sort of.”
“Seems a little harsh for telling you I love you.”
“Izzy says it was the meanest thing I’ve ever done.”
“If it were anyone else . . . it would have been.”
Brannie took a step back. “What does that mean?” She looked him over. “And why aren’t you destroyed? You should be lying in a pool of your own sick right now.”
“Branwen, don’t you know me yet? I deal with unreasonable dragons all day, every day.”
“So?”
“So your kin wasn’t exactly a challenge. The only one I really had to worry about was your father. And by the gods was he pissed.”
“He was?”
“You’re his baby. He adores you like the suns.”
“So what did you say?”
“That I loved you and I was willing to do anything to make you happy and make you my mate.” Aidan shrugged. “That was all he needed to hear.”
Brannie fought hard not to smile. Not ready to give in just yet.
“And the rest of them?”
“I just gave them some gold.”
“What?”
Aidan laughed. “I’m kidding. Your father reasoned with them and they went off with the Riders to get more of that vile ale they insist on burying.”
“My father was able to reason with Uncle Bercelak?”
“Oh, gods no. He actually growled at him. It was rather uncomfortable. But then Keita stepped in.”
“And said?”
“Who else would love such a large-boned She-dragon?”
“That cow! And stop laughing!”
* * *
Aidan slipped his arm around Brannie’s waist and pulled her in close. “Don’t be mad at her. She was trying to help.”
“By insulting me?”
“I know it’s hard to believe but yes. I mean, I’m still alive, aren’t I?”
“Excellent point.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders. “I’m really sorry. I was just—”
“Panicking?”
“Aye.”
“You’re not used to panicking.”
“Oh, no. I panic all the time. Just not in battle . . . or with males.” She took a deep breath and admitted, “But I’ve never been in love before, so . . . that could have something to do with it.”
Aidan nodded but he made sure not to smile. He didn’t want her to think he was laughing at her. He wasn’t.
He was ecstatic. Branwen the Awful loved him. She loved him.
“You’re smiling,” she told him.
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to.”
“It’s all right. I’m over the hard part. But you know it’s not going to be easy for you.”
“As long as you don’t hit me with any more fireballs—”
“No, no. I mean . . . it won’t be easy. My father’s easy, of course, but the rest of my kin . . . are . . . uh . . . they’re . . . uh . . .”
Brannie was staring at something over Aidan’s shoulder so, without letting her go, he looked and his mouth dropped open.
Together they watched Annwyl the Bloody ride by on the back of one of the demon animals that had appeared at their last battle.
“Isn’t that one of those corpse-eater things that she was supposed to send back to hell?” Aidan asked.
“Uh . . . yeah. The baby, I think. Oh . . . and look . . . there’s the mother.”
“Should we tell Fearghus?”
Brannie shook her head. “No. I’m sure he’ll find out . . . when they eat something appalling . . . and dead.”
Annwyl smiled and waved at them and they both waved back.
As they did, Brannie asked, “Are you sure about this?”
“Are you kidding? So much more interesting than my own kin.”
Brannie rested her head on his shoulder and sighed out, “Well, if you’re sure.”
Not wanting to push his luck, Aidan kept quiet, deciding to just enjoy the wonder of this amazing night.
Yet he still wasn’t surprised when Brannie suddenly barked, “Oh, shut up!”
Aidan laughed. “But I didn’t say anything!”
* * *
Rhiannon and Bercelak walked down a private, human-sized corridor of Devenallt Mountain. Moving slow, taking her time, Rhiannon rested her head against Bercelak’s shoulder and held his hand.
“Lovely night,” she said.
“Too many royals. And Gwenvael kept trying to hug me.”
Rhiannon chuckled and moved aside to allow a robed She-dragon carrying several books to pass as they stepped into an even tighter passageway.
The pair had just gone past another entrance to one of the libraries they had inside the mountain when Rhiannon stopped walking, pulling Bercelak up short.
He looked down at her, frowning in concern when she suddenly shuddered. Rhiannon recognized the energy coming from that other female. “You all right, luv?”
Rhiannon released Bercelak’s hand and quickly walked back to the passageway turn. She could see the robed She-dragon still striding along in no particular rush.
“Brigida?” Rhiannon called out and the She-dragon stopped and, slowly, turned to look back at them.
Rhiannon let out a sharp gasp and Bercelak’s “Holy shit,” echoed through the chamber.
The now-young Brigida grinned at them but before Rhiannon could stop her, she opened a doorway and was gone.
“I don’t understand,” Bercelak blurted out. “How could she . . . how did she . . .?”
“Do you know the worst part of what that treacherous, psychotic bitch has done?” Rhiannon asked her mate, her hands curling into fists, her entire body shaking with barely contained rage. “That I now have to go back and tell that boy he was right!”