What a Dragon Should Know
Dagmar.
He was mere feet from the ground when he rolled over, the Lightning now beneath him. His tail lashed out, winding around her waist and lifting her seconds before they all crashed into the hard, unforgiving earth.
Brastias woke the second Morfyd’s body jolted beside his. He reached for her but she was already scrambling across the bed.
“No, no, no, no,” she kept chanting over and over.
“Morfyd?”
She stumbled naked to the door and pulled it open, standing there as if waiting for something. Knowing she must be freezing since she was often chilled in her human form, he grabbed a fur from the bed and moved in behind her, wrapping it around her.
“What is it, love? What’s wrong?”
The door to Annwyl’s room opened and Fearghus stalked into the hallway. For Morfyd’s sake, Brastias would normally move out of sight, but the look on the dragon’s face pinned him to the spot. The siblings stared at each other until Briec jogged up the stairs, stopping on the landing and gazing at his kin.
“Well?” Briec demanded.
Morfyd pulled away from Brastias, tugging the fur tight around her. “I don’t know.”
“How could you not know?”
“Don’t bark at her.” Fearghus went to his sister, pulled her into his arms. “I’m sure we’d all know if Gwenvael was …” He closed his eyes, kissed the top of his sister’s head. “I’m sure he’ll be fine.”
“The pain, Fearghus. He was in so much pain.”
“I know. I felt it too.” He scowled at Briec in warning, and his younger brother walked over and patted his sister’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry. He’s Gwenvael. He gets into trouble, he gets out of it.”
“All right?” Fearghus asked softly.
“Aye.” She stepped back, rubbed her forehead. “And now I’ve got Mother screeching in my head. I need some wine.” She walked past her brothers and down the stairs.
Leaving Brastias there alone, forgotten … and naked.
Fearghus noticed him first. Brastias had only seen that glower on the dragon’s face once before. When Annwyl had gone off to Devenallt Mountain for the first time and had told the dragon nothing. Brastias didn’t like the glower then, and he hated it more now.
Briec’s frown was much more threatening, somehow. Maybe because he looked so astounded as well as angry. Not a good combination. Startling anything that breathes fire was always a bad idea in Brastias’s estimation.
“Our … sister?” Fearghus growled.
“Our baby sister?” Briec snarled.
“She’s two-hundred-and-fifty-two-years old.”
“Our innocent baby sister?” Briec went on, ignoring him.
Innocent? No. Probably best not to dispute them on that point.
Brastias shrugged. “I love her.”
Briec shrugged back. “Then we’re just going to have to kill you.”
Talaith walked up the stairs, stopping in the same place Briec had. She studied the three of them before asking, “What’s going on?”
“He’s defiling our sister,” both brothers said.
“Of course he is. And from what I understand, she’s enjoying every second of it, so leave him be.”
Briec glared at his mate. “You knew?”
Understanding he only had one chance, Brastias quickly cut in, “Did Briec mention he’s ready to release Izzy for combat duty?”
The brothers went rigid. Fearghus’s eyes wide, while Briec closed his own and cringed.
Talaith gaped at the three of them as her mind tried to understand his words. “They … you … uh …” She shook her head. “I’ m sorry. What did you say?”
“You bastard,” Briec whispered.
“You drove me to it.”
“Briec?”
He let out a breath and faced Talaith. “I know you’re not ready to hear this, Talaith, but—well, don’t walk away!”
After Briec disappeared in pursuit of Talaith, Fearghus said, “Nicely played, human.” He headed back to the rooms he shared with Annwyl. “But once Talaith is done giving Briec a brand new anus with her fist and we know whether Gwenvael is dead or not … we’ll be back.”
Brastias didn’t doubt that for a moment.
It was his strange and invasive tail that had saved her life, holding Dagmar up and away as they crashed into the ground.
Even now with the two dragons nothing more than a big ball of bright purple and gold scales, Gwenvael’s tail still held her tightly around the waist and she struggled to get it off. When she finally did, she fell a few inches, her rear slamming hard into the thick root of a tree.
She winced in pain but still managed to crawl over to Gwenvael. Up close, she could see his face and brushed the hair from his eyes. “Gwenvael?”
He didn’t move and she wasn’t even sure he was breathing. She gripped his claw with both hands, careful of his razor-sharp talons. “Gwenvael, please answer me.”
Dagmar had no idea how long she stood there, holding on to Gwenvael. She knew she needed to do something, but for once she was at a loss. She couldn’t move him, afraid to leave him alone for even a moment. She had no idea where they were and knew more dragons could be lying in wait anywhere.
There was a part of Dagmar that wished she hadn’t left her home, still living safely under her father’s protection, blissfully ignorant of the truth around her.