“Because you’re never rude to anyone. Even my idiot brothers. Not only that but I could feel it in your body. The way you tensed. It was him.”
“Ghleanna—”
Ghleanna scrambled off Bram’s lap naked, and stalked across the room. She yanked the door open and Kleitos quickly pulled back.
“Really, Kleitos?” Bram asked, slipping off the bed. “Listening at the door? Isn’t that beneath even you?”
“Oh, no, my Lord. I was doing nothing of the kind. Surely you—owwww!”
Ghleanna had rammed her head into Kleitos’s with all the force she could muster.
“You barbarian whore!”
That’s when Ghleanna hauled back and punched the Fin, most likely re-breaking his nose.
Kleitos scurried away and Ghleanna followed.
“I’m going to enjoy removing your skin, lizard.”
Bram caught Ghleanna around the waist before she could get her hands around Kleitos’s throat. He picked her up and carried her back into their room, slamming the door with his foot.
“You promised!” he roared, shoving her away.
“I promised I wouldn’t touch the Empress. Didn’t say anything about him!”
And damn her, but she was right.
Ghleanna itched to go back outside and finish what she’d started.
Imagining Bram as a young dragon, not even a full-grown adult, trapped in a dungeon and at the mercy of that slithering pond scum had her blood boiling.
She’d been alone like that before, but her kin had come quick enough. And she knew they would. She knew that none of her kin would leave her to die. But they were warriors, trackers, blacksmiths, pit fighters. Bram’s kin were cultured royals who relied on their queen for protection—and she’d failed them. Adienna had left their son and her loyal subject to the whims of the enemy.
And no one had suffered for it. Not Adienna. Not the Empress nor her father. And not Bram’s torturer. Unsurprisingly that stuck in her craw most of all.
“You’re right. You did only promise to leave Helena be. But now I’m asking you to do the same for Kleitos.”
“I’ll not make that promise, peacemaker.”
“He’s chancellor, Ghleanna.”
“I don’t care.”
“Do you wish to get out of here alive?”
“Of course I—”
“Then I want you to leave him be. Do you understand?”
She looked off.
“Ghleanna . . .”
“Yes,” she hissed. “I understand.”
“Good. I need to go.” He frowned at her chest. “Your wound is irritated.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“Yes, but—”
“It’ll be fine!”
Bram stepped back, raised his hands, palms out. “I’ll see you later then.”
He turned but Ghleanna caught his arm.
“Ghleanna, I have to go.”
“I know. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?”
Ghleanna raised herself onto her toes and pressed her mouth against his, her hands sliding into his hair, fingers digging into his scalp.
Bram caught hold of her waist and she thought he meant to push her away. But he pulled her close, held her tight, and slipped his tongue into her mouth.
Her human body heated, her nipples hardened, her sex became wet. It was all instantly there. And instantly perfect. But then Ghleanna was falling, everything around her spinning.
Bram caught her in his arms. “Ghleanna?”
“I’m all right.”
“I’ll send for the surgeons.”
“No, no. Just bed. I’m just tired.” He didn’t look like he believed her. “Don’t question me, royal. Just take me to the bed and go to your meeting.”
Bram picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. With infinite care, he placed her on it, then covered her with the fur.
“Get some sleep. We’ll talk more later.”
Talk? As far as Ghleanna was concerned they were long past talking. But the peacemaker was skittish. Best not to spook him.
She nodded. “Later then.”
Ghleanna watched him walk out, the door closing behind him, and her mind turned.
For the first time in six months, she wasn’t thinking of her own misery. She was thinking of others—and how to make their misery worse.
Chapter 10
When Bram didn’t return for several hours, Ghleanna got up again and found some leggings that fit her.
She opened the door—still unlocked—and walked out into the hallway. There were new guards at her door. They turned, facing each other, and slammed the butt end of their pikes into the ground.
“My Lady—”
“It’s Captain.”
“Captain.”
“Why are you human?” she asked.
“Orders, Captain.”
That was good enough. They probably didn’t get an explanation and knew better than to ask for one. “I’m hungry. Any food around?”
“We can have the servants bring you—”
Ghleanna waved that away. “Not in the mood for servants. I need to move around a bit. Or am I still under arrest or whatever you’re calling it?”
“No, Captain. We are merely here as protection for an honored guest.”
Ghleanna blinked. “Honored guest? Wasn’t it just a few days ago that I was the horrifying Low Born that had to be kept human?”
“They still want you human, Captain, but you’ve been given leave to walk where you’d like.”
So the Empress was sucking up—interesting.
Ghleanna started off, but eventually came to a stop. “And you’re to follow me everywhere?” she asked the guards right behind her.
“Yes, Captain.”
Good. Even better. “Well, what’re your names then?”
“Anatolios, Captain. This is Demetrius.”
“Anatolios. Demetrius. Does the Empress feed her guards and soldiers well?”
“She does, Captain.”
“Good. Take me to where you eat.”
The arguing turned out to be quite monumental. Full of passion and eloquence.
And yet . . . it was also a phenomenal waste of time.
These senators, the representatives of the Fin populace, were arguing the logic of a truce with the Southland Land Dwellers. A very good discussion to have for any ruling body—except that these senators did not rule. They had no power except that which their monarch allowed them. And Helena, like her father before her, allowed very little.
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!<
br />
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.
“Come to bed.”
Startled, he turned. Ghleanna still had her eyes closed but she held her hand out to him.
“I should—”
“If you say work, I’m going to get nasty. Bed. Now.” She opened one eye. “It’s not like we haven’t slept together before.”
Bram sat at the edge of the bed and removed his boots. “At least this time your brothers won’t be storming in to wake us up and calling us whores.” He dropped the last boot and asked, “Or will they?”
“Not that I’m aware.” She moved over and Bram got into the bed fully clothed. Ghleanna didn’t complain, for which he was grateful. He knew he couldn’t handle being naked around a naked Ghleanna. Not right now.
“Should you be sleeping on your side?” he asked. “And why isn’t your arm tied down?”
“Don’t harass me,” she barked back, sounding adorably cranky half-asleep. “The surgeon says I only need to wear it during the day. I think he fears I’ll start swinging a sword before I’m fully healed.” That was probably because Bram had told the surgeon she might do that and did he have a way to keep her from doing so. But Bram wouldn’t mention that. Why cause problems when there were none?
“What if you flail wildly in your sleep? Then what?”
“You’ll get hit in the face and my wound will be the least of your worries. Now can we both get some rest?”
He relaxed on his side, facing Ghleanna. Her eyes were once again closed, her breathing even. She was asleep once more.
Bram didn’t know how things would be once they left here. Once they were free again, heading to Alsandair to finish what they’d started. But Bram knew what he wanted. He wanted Ghleanna and, as Rhiannon had accurately guessed, he’d wanted her for a very long time. Whether Ghleanna felt the same or not, however, he really didn’t know.
But when she reached out in her sleep and cupped his jaw in her hand, he felt a definite sense of hope.
Chapter 11
“Fruit.”
Bram opened his eyes and stared at the big shiny fruit held up before him. “Yes, it is.”
“Plus bread and cheese. Hungry?”
Bram sat up, but immediately frowned. “Why is the area around your wound bruised?”
Ghleanna shrugged and bit into a big piece of bread.
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“Nothing. Eat.”
Bram glanced down at himself. “I’m . . . naked.”
Ghleanna nodded, bit into a juicy piece of fruit.
“And when did that happen?”
“No idea.” She held out another piece of fruit. “Must say, though . . . I do like you naked.”
He took the treat from her hand. “Thank you. For the fruit and the compliment.”
“You’re welcome.”
They ate in silence for a while, Bram busy trying not to stare. Gods, she was beautiful.
“Do you have much work to do today?” she asked.
“I’m afraid so. I heard from Rhiannon.” When Ghleanna frowned, he added, “Something to do with her increasing powers. Which are, I must admit, becoming daunting.”
“She’d been held back a lifetime because of her mother. She has much time to make up for.”
“I guess.”
“I wouldn’t worry. Rhiannon’s grandmother had that level of power and she managed it fine.”
“And Bercelak’s there for balance. A rational thought in the chaos of Rhiannon’s mind.” Ghleanna raised a brow at that and Bram shrugged. “I’ve never doubted the good your brother brings to our young queen’s reign. I merely wish they wouldn’t stick me in the middle of whatever t
hey like doing. It’s off-putting.”
“Then you shouldn’t keep hugging her.”
“It’s not me!”
Ghleanna laughed, bit into another fruit, and Bram noted, “You have your appetite back.”
“Had I ever lost it?”
“It was definitely diminished for a while there.”
Ghleanna stared at him for a moment. “You were very worried about me, weren’t you?”
“Sword through the chest,” he said. “That may be normal for your kin, but not mine.”
“You and your lot—sit around drinking wine and discussing important things, I bet.”
“You’d be wrong. We sit around, drink wine, and argue. A lot.”
“Argue? You?”
“Raised to argue. Both my parents are lawmakers, and no Dragon Law is created without much discussion, debate, and arguing. Sometimes a fist fight, but those are rare—and never very impressive. Almost sad.”
Ghleanna shook her head. “And all your kind do it? Argue, I mean.”
“My mother can find reason to argue about a grain of sand. And my father doesn’t think a meal is complete unless someone proclaims, ‘That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! Where’s your proof to that statement?’ I don’t mind so much now.” He sighed. “It was a little overwhelming, though, when I was only eight winters. My wings hadn’t even unfurled.”
“Me and mine . . . we argue. But to back up your statement Cadwaladrs just need to be willing to take a claw to the face. Or a shield.”
“Aye. I remember that.”
Ghleanna blinked, frowning. “You were at our dinners?”
There was a pause and then Bram demanded, “Was I entirely invisible to you?”
“Well . . . not entirely.”
Deciding it was time to get to work, Bram began to get up. But Ghleanna caught his arm, her laughter annoying him even more.
“I’m teasing,” she said, pulling him back. “I swear.”
“Isn’t it bad enough I assumed you’d always ignored me? Now I find out I was just invisible to you.”
“That’s not true.” She put the tray of half-eaten food on the floor before taking his hands in hers. “I noticed you, Bram.”