Bram continued to scribble away on his parchment. “We did. Very close. In fact—” he finally looked up from his papers but he gazed at Ghleanna—“I love her. Have for years.”
“Gods!” Feoras laughed. “Are you really that desperate, friend? Because the honest truth is, when it comes to getting under a Cadwaladr wench’s tail, the last thing you need to do is tell them you love them.” He eyed Ghleanna and she couldn’t believe she’d ever found him attractive. “That’s how it is for all of them, but especially Ailean’s offspring. All whores . . . just like their father.”
Ghleanna had heard it all before but, unlike her sisters, she never knew how to let it roll off her scales like rainwater. But that was before, wasn’t it? When she actually gave a centaur shit what other dragons thought. Now, however, she realized what her kin had been trying to tell her was true—she was a mighty She-dragon who could do better than Feoras the Traitor. A sad, jealous lizard not worthy of her time or her drunken whining. That being said, she also had no intention of letting Feoras goad her into a rash move. There was a plan, and she intended to stick with it.
But when Bram unleashed an explosion of flame that rammed into Feoras and half his soldiers, sending them flying back through the trees, decimating part of the forest in the process while setting fire to another part . . . she had to admit she was surprised. And rather impressed.
“What?” Bram asked her when she could only gawk at him. “I thought you wanted them over in that clearing so they were surrounded by your kin.”
“I . . . I did. It’s just I thought you were going to run and let them give chase. Not set the entire forest on fire.”
“I don’t run for anybody. I wouldn’t worry about the forest.” He glanced up at the sky. “It looks like it might rain. Besides, I warned you . . . my flame is mighty.”
“I thought you were embellishing.”
“I don’t embellish.”
“I see that now.”
They stepped through a wall of flames and into the clearing as Feoras and his fellow traitors got to their claws.
Feoras was angry now. Bram could see that. Because it was one thing to be bested by a fellow Dragonwarrior, even a female, but by a politician? No. He wasn’t having that.
More traitors landed in the clearing.
“They weren’t there,” one of the soldiers told Feoras, before his eyes locked on Ghleanna in surprise.
“Where are they, Ghleanna?” Feoras demanded. “We’ve been watching that kin of yours for days, knowing they’d lead us to the politician. And we both know they won’t leave you to fight alone with just this one by your side.”
“They’re waiting,” she told him.
“For what?”
“For me to kill you.”
That’s when Ghleanna threw the first battle axe. But Feoras was fast. He quickly stepped aside, and the axe hit the dragon behind him in the chest—killing him instantly.
“Bitch,” Feoras snarled.
“Come on, Feoras.” She swung her second axe in an arch. The flat of it slapping hard into the middle of her claw. “Let’s finish this.”
He roared and charged her and Ghleanna flew at him. They met, collided, and spun. When they landed, Ghleanna pulled away first and swung her axe. Feoras ducked, moved around her. She quickly turned, lifted her weapon, and blocked the sword aimed at her back.
More dragons surrounded Bram, but these were friends not foes.
“This has been coming,” Addolgar remarked while he watched. He’d never intervene in his sister’s fight unless her death was imminent. That was the Cadwaladr way.
“Aye,” Bram answered. “It has.”
“Were you two all right down there? With them Fins?”
“Aye. Quite all right. The Empress wants a truce with Rhiannon and her army came to worship Ghleanna.”
Addolgar shook his head. “How does the cranky cow manage to do that? A few days with her—and they’re ready to follow my sister into hell.”
Feoras slammed his fist into Ghleanna’s snout, sending her tripping back. But she stayed on her claws and struck again.
“What about you, peacemaker?” Addolgar asked.
Without taking his eyes off Ghleanna, “What about me?”
“Would you follow my sister into hell?”
“Wherever her soul goes, mine will follow.” Bram let himself briefly glance at Addolgar. “She means everything to me. But you already knew that.”
“Yeah. We already knew. The whole lot of us. But you’re so damn polite, we figured you needed a push.” He gestured at the growing number of watching dragons. “We never expected all this, though.”
“Nor I. Not for an alliance.”
“An alliance in writing. With dragons of the Desert Lands. You make that happen, and Rhiannon becomes the strongest dragon monarch in the last six centuries.”
When Bram only blinked, Addolgar added, “I’m not stupid, royal. No matter what you’ve heard.”
Ghleanna blocked another blow from Feoras’s sword. Spun, brought her axe down, and when he blocked it, brought her tail around and slammed the tip of it into a weak spot under his arm.
Feoras roared in pain and yanked his body away from her. He stumbled a few feet ahead of her, bringing his arm down to stop the flow of blood.
Ghleanna turned on her talons, swung her axe and imbedded it into Feoras’s spine.
The dragon whimpered, his body tensed. Ghleanna yanked out her axe and walked around him. Feoras dropped to his knees, gazing up at her once she stood in front of him.
She held out her free claw to Addolgar and he tossed his own axe to her. Ghleanna caught it, held it.
“Don’t, Ghleanna,” Feoras begged. “Please. Don’t.”
Ghleanna stared at the dragon for a moment. “I never loved you at all,” she murmured. “I know that now.
“Of course—” Ghleanna hefted both axes—“that makes this so much easier.”
She brought both axes together, not stopping until the blades met in the middle of Feoras’s neck. The dragon’s head popped off clean, landing on the ground at Ghleanna’s claws while blood shot out and covered his comrades.
She stepped back and slowly looked over the other warriors and soldiers who were waiting. Waiting for their next orders. Their next decision. Ghleanna gave it to them.
“Death to all traitors!”
Her kin roared in agreement before descending on Feoras’s foolish sycophants. She walked through the slaughter and over to Bram. He, again, leaned against a tree—waiting for her. And beside him stood her father.
“You off then, Da?” she asked.
“Aye. Too old for all this killing.” And to prove that, her father turned and brought his axe down on the head of a traitor that had gotten too close. Spun once more and cut off the legs of another.
He faced them again. “Need to get back to my rocking chair and some hot tea.”
“Clearly.” Ghleanna hugged her father. “Tell Mum I’m fine and when this is all done, I’ll be back to see her.”
“You better. She will track you down if you don’t.” Ailean smiled at Bram. “Take good care of her, royal. She means the world to me.”
“I will, sir.”
Her father walked off and Ghleanna looked at Bram.
“That—” and he motioned to the pieces of Feoras’s body—“was a bit showy.”
“I like to give the lads a bit of a show. It’s good for morale.”
He leaned down, pressed his snout against hers. They held like that a moment and then he told her, “You have more killing to do.”
“And I thought you’d try to stop me.”
“My mercy has never extended to traitors, Ghleanna.”
She stepped away from him, twisting her axes in both hands. “Then I’ll get to work.”
“Good. Because when we’re done here, we still have a contact to meet in Alsandair.”
“Overachiever,” she accused him with a grin, before she turned and killed
every traitor in her path.
Chapter 19
The Sand Dragon King’s first born son and his entourage of fifty, a count that did not include his battalion of warrior dragons, gazed down at Rhiannon for several minutes. He said nothing as he watched the queen, then sniffed and turned from her.
Bercelak had his sword out and almost embedded in the Prince’s back but the black dragon was taken down by at least four of his brothers and three of his sisters.
“I’ll sign,” the Prince said, sounding more bored than he’d been on the trip—which was no small feat. He represented his father on this, the king refusing to sign anything until he or someone he trusted had met with the new queen. So instead of Bram getting the signature he needed and returning to Rhiannon with alliance in claw, he’d been forced to bring the Prince and his entourage back to the queen’s court. It would have been an intolerable and long trip, too, if not for Ghleanna.
Bram held up the parchment and handed him a quill. The Prince scratched off his signature and walked out, his entourage and guards following.
Ghleanna motioned to several of her cousins, “Escort them to the Borderlands. Keep ’em safe until they cross.”
Once the Prince had left her court, Rhiannon snarled, “The arrogance!”
“He is the Dragon King’s first born and heir to his throne,” Bram reminded her.
“A throne of sand. As if that’s anything to brag about.” Rhiannon closed her eyes and roared, “Bercelak! Would you leave your brothers and sisters alone!”
“They started it!”
Rhiannon opened her eyes and smiled at Bram. “So my Lord Bram, it seems there are traitors in my midst.”
“Aye, my queen.”
“Did you get any names from Feoras?”
“Well . . .”
“I took his head before we had the chance,” Ghleanna admitted.
“Honestly!” Rhiannon shook her head. “Just like your brother. Kill first, ask questions of the corpse later. Well . . . I guess I’ll just have every Elder interrogated until someone admits his involvement—”
“Or,” Bram quickly cut in, “I could do a quiet inquiry into the matter. Perhaps I can find more accurate information than torture can provide.”
“Did I say torture? I don’t remember saying torture. But your mercy, as always, leads the way. So you have my permission.”
“Thank you, Majesty. And the truce?”
“Truce?”
“The one you wanted with Empress Helena?”
“The squid? Oh, yes. Yes.” Although Ghleanna knew the conniving cow forgot nothing. “Leave the documents with Elder Margh.”
“Very well, my queen.”
“And thank you, Lord Bram, for all your excellent work and sacrifice.”
“I’m at your service and the service of your throne.”
She smirked. “I know.” Rhiannon glanced at the alliance document the Sand Dragon had signed. “But I must say that when Bercelak and I have our offspring, we will never allow them to be as arrogant as that!”
Ghleanna passed one quick glance to Bram before they both replied, “Uh-huh.”
Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me.
But she did. And now Bram had two sets of black eyes glaring at him.
Finally, he said out loud, “It’s not me! I swear!”
Rhiannon laughed and leaned back from Bram. “So cute! Isn’t he cute, Bercelak?”
“No.”
“Bercelak’s only teasing.”
“No, I’m not.”
And then Ghleanna was there, prying Rhiannon’s forearms from around Bram’s shoulders.
“Back off, she-viper! This one’s mine. You’ve got yours. Now you’re stuck with him!”
“Oy!” Bercelak bellowed.
Bram pulled Ghleanna away from the one Dragonwitch who could turn her blood to acid. “Everyone just calm down. There’s no point in—”
“And what the hells is going on with you and my sister?” Bercelak demanded.
“Uh . . .”
Ghleanna stepped between Bram and her brother.
“I wouldn’t challenge him if I were you, Bercelak.”
The greatest Dragonwarrior snorted. “Is that right?”
“He’s got skills.”
“What skills?”
“He’s a right good head-butter. You should see what he did with the Fins.”
Good gods, had the female gone mad?
Bercelak moved in. “Their heads are soft—like pudding. Not like mine. Hard as granite.”
That’s when Ghleanna said, “Addolgar says his head is harder than yours.”
“That’s ’cause it is,” Addolgar happily tossed in.
“Centaur shit.”
“Come on then, brother. Try me.”
Bercelak refocused his attention on his brother and Ghleanna grabbed Bram’s claw and dragged him out of the throne room.
“Wait . . . are they really going to—”
“Head butt each other until one passes out or dies of blood on the brain? Yep. They really are.”
“And they protect our queen and lands. How reassuring.”
“You’ll get used to it.”
“Ghleanna.” And Bram stopped, bringing her up short.
“What is it?”
“I’m a dragon. I naturally assume I always get what I want. But there are no guarantees with you, I’m afraid.”
She grinned. “Are you asking me now what you should have asked me a fortnight ago when we were lounging in the Sand Dragon King’s salt springs?”
“Well, I couldn’t rightly ask with your brothers, sisters, and cousins constantly popping in to stare at us and say, ‘You two ain’t done yet? What exactly are you doing in there anyway? ’”
“Good point. But you are asking me now?”
“I am.”
“To be your mate?”
“I am.”
“Because you love me as I love you?”
“Aye.”
“Because you can’t imagine your life without me?”
Bram cupped Ghleanna’s jaw with his claw, stroked a talon across her scales, and in a heartfelt whisper replied, “Aye.”
That’s when Ghleanna crossed her forearms over her chest and demanded, “Are you going to keep hugging that Rhiannon?”
“But it’s not me!”
Epilogue
“Bram?”
Bram looked up from his work and smiled. “You’re back quick.”
His mate shook her head. “We’ve been gone eighteen months battling bloody Lightnings.”
“Oh.” He pointed at the document he worked on. “This is the truce for that. If it makes you feel—”
“It doesn’t.”
Oh, well. Best not to dwell, and changing the subject was always a good way to go. “Did you know they insisted I add a clause just for your nephew? What exactly was Gwenvael doing in the north?”
“You really don’t want to know.” She came around his chair and dropped into his lap. “Just wished you’d been there to calm that situation down.”
“Or you could stop bringing Gwenvael with you anywhere.”
“That’s our next option. At least not until he has a mate who can control his whorish ass. He’s beginning to rival my father!”
“Beginning?”
“Och! Let’s not speak of it.” She kissed him and Bram held her tight.
“Have you gotten any sleep since I left?” she asked while Bram kissed a new scar on her throat.
“Why go to bed when you’re not there?”
“Well, I’m back for a while.”
“Is it just you?” And Bram was already leaning in to kiss her again.
“Hello, Da.”
Bram’s eldest slammed his blood-and-gore encrusted battle axe onto the table—on top of Bram’s books and papers. “I’m starvin’. Any food?”
“Well—”
“Da.” His second oldest, a dragoness who looked just like her mother, unloaded a
battalion’s worth of weapons onto the table—on top of his books and papers. “Any food? I’m starvin’.”
“I just asked,” her brother remarked.
“Are you saying I can’t ask?”
“I didn’t say you couldn’t ask, you whiny little cow.”
Two more of his offspring stormed in, dropping into chairs and putting their feet up on the table—all on top of his damn papers!
“You really want more offspring?” he had to ask Ghleanna as he always asked at moments like this.
“Just three more. Maybe four. Addolgar already has six!”
“Well, I’m not trying to keep up with your siblings, Captain! And do you think we can teach the next lot better manners?”
“They’ll still be Cadwaladrs, luv.”
“Guess that’s a no then.”
“Oy!” Ghleanna barked at the lounging dragons. “Get your hooves off the table and put your weapons away like I bloody taught ya!”
Grumbling as they liked to do, his offspring did what they were ordered. They’d learned early not to question their mother’s directives. Not if they, to quote Ghleanna, “Know what’s good for them.”
“Look at this mess they left,” Ghleanna complained. “Charles!”
“He’s out researching something for me and his name is Jonathan. Charles has been gone from this life for ages.”
“I know. But I still miss him,” she sighed. “Bang up job he did.”
“Jonathan will be gone for a few days.” He kissed her neck. “Perhaps the offspring can go to the pub tonight. For a few hours.”
Ghleanna laughed and put her arms around Bram’s shoulders. “I’m sure that’ll be hard to do. You know how pious they all are.”
Bram buried his nose against her neck, breathed in deep. “Gods, female. You smell like blood and death.”
Ghleanna smiled. Honestly, this dragon. “I’d be insulted, peacemaker, and hurt, if I couldn’t feel your cock trying to burrow its way through me chainmail.”
“You’ve always known what you do to me, Ghleanna. Especially when you come back from battle with all your new scars and still covered in the blood and gore of our enemies. There’s only so much a dragon can take!”