What a Dragon Should Know
Fuck calm!
“The Council has made its decision, Bercelak the Black—”
“You’ve made the decision,” Bercelak cut in. “This is about you!”
“—I would strongly suggest you don’t stop us from doing what we’ve come to do.”
Dagmar came around the corner of the castle. She gave Gwenvael a small wink and motioned to Addolgar and Ghleanna who stalked in behind her.
“Lord Gwenvael,” she said, smiling softly, “who do we have here?”
He passed a quick glance to Briec.
What the hell is she doing? Briec demanded.
Trust her, brother. For Gwenvael certainly did.
Going down the stairs, Gwenvael grasped Dagmar’s outstretched hand and said, “Lady Dagmar this is Elder Eanruig of our Council. Elder Eanruig, this is Dagmar Reinholdt of the Northlands. Only Daughter of The Reinholdt.”
Eanruig puffed up a bit when he realized Dagmar was as close to Northland royalty as one could find among the warlords. “Lady Dagmar. It’s an honor.”
She gave a small bow of her head. “I’ve read so much about the mighty Dragon Elders of the Southlands. And I am most honored to meet you.” She gave the most innocent of smiles. “So what brings you here today?”
Eanruig sighed sadly, making Gwenvael want to pull the bastard’s lungs out through his nose. “We heard about poor Queen Annwyl and we’ve decided that for the safety of her children, we should take them under our protection.”
“Ahhh,” Dagmar nodded. “I see.”
“What’s this?” Ghleanna asked, stomping forward. “I don’t understand. What are they saying, Dagmar?”
“It’s very simple,” Dagmar explained cheerfully. “For the safety of the twins, the Council has decided to rip them—in a sense only, of course—from Fearghus even as we are preparing the funeral pyre for Annwyl’s eventual death.”
Eanruig gave a smug chortle. “It’s not that simple, my lady.”
“No, it is,” Dagmar countered, still cheerfully. “You see, Ghleanna, if Elder Eanruig has the twins, he has control over the queen, because she’d never do anything to risk her own grandchildren.”
Now Eanruig frowned. “That’s not true.”
“Don’t be shy,” she praised, latching on to the Elder’s arm, a bright smile on her face. “It’s brilliant politically. Think of it. He who controls the twins, controls the queen. Yet if she denies Elder Eanruig the babes, he can rally those who’ve never been large fans of Queen Rhiannon anyway to his side and start a delightful civil war.”
Ghleanna crossed her arms in front of her chest. “And we’re letting him get away with this?”
Eanruig snatched his arm away from Dagmar. “There is nothing to get away with, Low Born,” he sneered. “What the Council decides to do is none of the business of the Cadwaladr Clan.”
“He’s right, Ghleanna,” Dagmar cut in. “This has to do with the royal bloodline and those connected directly to it like Bercelak. Unfortunately”—she seemed to mock Ghleanna by winking at Eanruig—“that has little to do with you or Addolgar.”
“Bercelak is our brother.”
Dagmar patted Ghleanna’s forearm. “This is about bloodline, dearest. Am I correct, Elder Eanruig?”
“You are,” he snidely agreed.
“And coming from a low-born bloodline, you have no real connection to the Dragon Queen or any say in these decisions. Now, why don’t I get the babes?” She smiled at Eanruig.
“Thank you kindly, Lady Dagmar.”
As Dagmar walked up the stairs, Ghleanna scowled up at Bercelak. “You’re going to let him get away with this, brother?”
Sighing dramatically, Dagmar took hold of Bercelak’s arm.
“What choice does he have?”
“He can strike the bastard down.”
“No. He can’t. Nor can Briec or Gwenvael. Because of their connection to Queen Rhiannon, they could never strike an unarmed Elder down. Even if openly challenged … as some might consider this situation to be.”
Ghleanna blinked, her scowl lessening. “ ’Cause they’re directly connected to Rhiannon?”
“Right.”
“But we’re not?”
“Unfortunately, you’re just meaningless low borns who could easily interpret this as a threat to the twins and act accordingly.”
Eanruig frowned. “Wait … what?”
“Well, they are low borns, my lord,” Dagmar stated flatly as they all watched him back away. “What exactly did you expect?”
Even if Eanruig was hundreds of years younger, he’d never have been able to move fast enough. He was a politician, like Dagmar, not a trained warrior. He had no speed, no skills, and no hope of outrunning a battle-trained dragoness who was quite pissed off.
Ghleanna sliced through Eanruig’s human body with her sword, cutting him from right shoulder to left hip. As she pulled her blade from his torso, his screams making the observing humans run for their lives and the other Elders scramble away in fear, Addolgar’s blade was slicing through the air overhead, slamming into the middle of Eanruig’s skull. The weapon didn’t stop its descent until it came sliding through the Elder’s groin.
And with that, the screaming stopped.
Flames briefly burst and Eanruig’s human remains returned to their natural form. Dagmar felt nothing as she stared down at what remained of Elder Eanruig. Perhaps it should have been other babes he’d set his sights on, but he’d come after Annwyl’s. That had made it almost a pleasure to work with the Dragon Queen to make sure the laws of her kind would protect Ghleanna and Addolgar, who’d been told nothing and yet reacted as Rhiannon guessed they would.