“Only Bercelak.”
“No. I’m certain they all hate me.”
“Don’t be so full of yourself—my brothers barely know you exist.”
Now he looked insulted. “So I’m meaningless?”
“To a Cadwaladr . . . yes.”
“Then I’m so glad it’s the Cadwaladrs protecting me.”
And that sarcasm lashed across the room.
“You don’t have to take it so personally. Most royals don’t matter to us. So you don’t especially not exist to us. You’re just one of many royals that don’t exist to us.”
“Is any of that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Thought it might help.”
“It didn’t.”
“I hope you don’t always take things so personally. It’ll be a long trip for us both if you do.”
“Thanks so much for the warning.” He dug through his travel bag again. “Blast and damnation! I can’t find—”
“The terms of your proposed alliance agreement?” Charles asked, holding out a scroll to the royal.
“Oh,” Bram said, taking the scroll. “There it is.”
With a weary sigh, Ghleanna dropped into a chair and put her feet up on the table.
“Oh, my Lady!” Charles cried, horrified. “Please.” He rushed to the table and carefully lifted Ghleanna’s boot-shod feet so he could remove the books and papers from under them.
“Sorry, Charlie,” Ghleanna said with a smile. “And you can call me Ghleanna. I’m not a royal like Bram over there.”
“Of course, my Lady . . . uh . . . Lady Gh—I mean ... uh . . .”
“Or just Captain. You can call me Captain.”
Appearing heartily relieved at being able to use a title, Charles smiled and said, “Yes, Captain.”
Once he’d cleaned off the area, he returned her feet to their proper place.
“There you go, Captain.” He turned back to Bram. “I’ll gather all you require, my Lord.”
“Excellent.”
Ghleanna waited until Charles had rushed off before she asked, “Does he know then? What we are?”
“He knows what I am—and I’m sure he’s guessed about you. I simply don’t have time to run around hiding that particular fact from my assistant.” Bram leaned against the table and asked Ghleanna, “Now, what about your battalion?”
“What about them?”
“Can’t a few of them accompany us?”
“Are we here again? My brothers do not hate you,” she insisted.
“They don’t exactly respect me either.”
“They don’t respect anyone but our mother.”
“Well, I understand that. Your mother’s amazing.”
“I know.” Amazing and smart enough not to be taken as a fool by any male. She’d made Ailean work for her love, and work he did. “And I’m nothing like her.”
“You have her freckles.”
“You mean these bloody dots on my face?” She swiped at her face with her hands.
“You can’t rub them off, Ghleanna,” Bram told her with a laugh.
“I know. I know. I just hate having them.”
“I like them.” And he smiled a little. Was he laughing at her?
“Yeah . . . well . . .” She lowered her hands, forcing herself not to act so self-conscious. “You don’t have to live with them.”
He continued to stare at her, making her nervous, when he finally observed, “You’re letting your hair grow out.”
“What? Oh.” She refused to run her hands through her hair. “Haven’t had much call lately to keep it short.”
She shrugged and pulled out one of the blades she kept in her boot. “Guess I can do that now.”
He caught hold of her hand. “What are you planning to do with that?”
“Cut my hair. You were the one complaining about it.”
“I didn’t complain.”
“Then you dislike my hair when it’s short?”
“That isn’t what I meant either.”
She threw up her hands. “Then what the bloody hells did you mean?”
The royal’s blue eyes briefly flared before he closed them and let out a breath. “You do wear the scales off my hide.”
She knew that—enjoyed doing it, too. And that was wrong, wasn’t it?
“Charles!” he suddenly bellowed, and the human charged back into the hall a few moments later.
“Yes, my Lord . . . Bram . . . my Lord Bram . . . Lord—”
“Please take the Captain to one of the rooms so that she can freshen up.” He wrestled the blade from her hand, making Ghleanna laugh. She hadn’t laughed so in ages. It felt nice. “Perhaps you can also cut her hair. She prefers it short.” He handed the blade to poor, confused Charles.
“Of course, my Lord . . . uh . . .”
“Do we have time for all that?” Ghleanna demanded.
“We do now.” The royal turned his back on her, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll be in my study. Get me when she’s done.”
Ghleanna waited until the dragon was out of earshot. “Is he always so short of temper and patience?” she asked the servant.
“No, Captain. In fact, Lord Bram is considered the most patient and caring of beings in all the Southlands.”
“Huh . . . must be me then.”
Instead of trying to convince her that that was inaccurate, Charles pointed to an alcove that would lead to the tower. “This way, Captain.”
Bram had nearly all he needed and was searching for some notes that he’d taken at the last Elder meeting he attended. A few additional codicils they wanted to add to the final alliance.
When he couldn’t find them, Bram called out, “Charles!” and turned, only to come face to face with Ghleanna. How long she’d been standing behind him, Bram had no idea. But at least this was the Ghleanna he knew so well. Her chainmail had been cleaned and polished, a dark blue surcoat over that with her sword tied to her waist and her two battle axes strapped to her back. Her leather boots had been cleaned and buffed and her black hair cut back to its usual length right below her ears. She had her arms folded across her chest and her legs braced apart.
This . . . this was the Dragonwarrior he knew. The Decimator. Bram didn’t realize how much he’d missed her until she’d been gone.
“That was quick,” Bram said when he realized he was gazing at her like a lovesick schoolboy.
She blinked. “Quick? It’s been four hours. Maybe a little more.”
“Oh? Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
“Hadn’t noticed,” he muttered and walked around her to return to his desk. “We can go in a few minutes.”
“If we leave now we won’t get very far.”
Bram sighed. “So we’ve already lost a day of travel?”
“You were the one who didn’t want to be seen with me and my unruly hair.”
“I never said that! And I don’t see why we can’t at least get started. I just need to find the blasted . . . Charles!”
Charles rushed in. “My Lord?”
“My notes from the last Elder meeting? I can’t find them any—”
Charles pulled the scrolls out from the pile on the desk and held them out to Bram.
Bram took the scrolls and shoved them into his travel bag. “Thank you.”
“Of course, my Lord . . . Lord Bram . . . uh . . .”
“I shouldn’t be gone too long on this trip,” he went on. “But if I am, don’t worry. My sister will be checking in quite often.”
“Very good sir.”
Pulling the strap of his bag across his shoulder, Bram walked out of his study and headed for the front door.
“Don’t forget,” he informed Charles, “to pull together the research on the pirate attacks at the ports going up the coast. I’m supposed to meet with Duke Picton regarding that soon.”
“I’ve already started, my Lord.”
“Good. I’ll need to deal with that when I get back.” He stopped at
the doorway leading to his small and very unkempt courtyard. He’d really have to get someone to clean it. He couldn’t ask Charles to do it himself. Bram needed him on more important matters at the moment—and didn’t he have a much bigger staff who handled these sorts of things? Maybe not . . .
Bram glanced around, then demanded, “Blast! Where is that female?”
“Right in front of you.”
Bram nearly jumped out of his frail human skin when he realized that Ghleanna had gotten around him somehow.
“Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?”
“Sneak around.”
“Do you mean walk around? Because that’s what I actually did. I usually crouch more when I sneak—and then I kill someone.”
Deciding not to argue with her, Bram bid Charles farewell and left the castle.
“I guess we still have to pick up your brothers.”
“We do.”
“Where are they?”
“The Battle of Fychan.”
“And how far away is that?” he asked Ghleanna. “Is it a long flight? Will we make it there tonight?”
They now stood outside his castle walls and Ghleanna gazed at him.
“What?” he asked, beginning to run out of patience.
Staring at him strangely, she said, “They’re at the Bolver Fields. You know . . . the Battle of Fychan.”
“Right. Right. You already said that. And I asked how far off is that?”
Her gaze narrowed a bit. “Really?”
“Really what?”
She took hold of his arm and headed west.
“Where are we going?” he asked. “We’re not going to fly? Won’t walking to a battlefield be a bit dangerous?” At least for him.
He asked questions but Ghleanna didn’t answer. But when they were about a half-mile from his castle, she led him up a ridge that overlooked the valley beneath.
A valley filled with the dead and dying of what appeared to be a long-running battle.
“Right outside your door,” she told him, staring at him with what could be either awe, pity, or disgust. “The Battle of Fychan has been outside your door for at least eight months. Everyone else in the nearby town as well as your servants, have abandoned the area except for you and poor Charles, who didn’t want to leave your precious books and papers unattended. I do hope you pay that lad well.”
“You know . . .” Bram gazed out over the battlefield. “Thought I heard some screams . . . a few times. But I’ve been so busy.”
She released his arm and, while shaking her head, walked off down the hill and to the field below.
“Come on, peacemaker. Let’s get my brothers. We can debate when we need to start later.”
Morbidly embarrassed but not willing to admit it, Bram followed Ghleanna onto the battlefield.
Chapter 3
“Good gods, you look like cold shit.”
Ghleanna gazed at her brother and again wondered why she hadn’t smashed his bloody egg when she had the chance. Her mother would have eventually forgiven her.
“Thank you, brother. And you look fat and happy. Having an easy time of it here, are you?”
“Fat? Fat?” He speared the moaning human at his feet. “How dare you! My human form is in fighting trim, you callous cow.”
“If you say so.”
Addolgar glanced at the royal standing behind her. “Something’s attached itself to you, sister.” He shook the human remains off the spear he held. “Should I kill it for you?”
Ghleanna reached back and caught Bram’s hand before he could walk off. She sensed him leaving and didn’t really blame him, but still . . . he had to learn to toughen up. Then again, Addolgar did have a reputation among the royals as an intolerant bastard who’d kill without a second’s thought or remorse. A reputation that, in some situations, was quite accurate.
“He’s under my protection, Addolgar. So back off.”
“He is?” He speared another human trying to crawl away. “Why?”
“I’ve been charged with getting him to the Desert Lands and back. Alive,” she added so her brother was clear on this. “And a few of you lot are coming with me.”
Addolgar glanced around the battlefield. The conflict seemed to have wound down and he appeared quite bored with it all. Her brother had done his damage and now there was nothing left to kill. Usually he’d return to his mate—unless she’d found her own battle to enjoy. It still amazed Ghleanna that instead of her brother finding a more sweet-natured female to complement his blackhearted and murderous nature, he’d taken to a dragoness with a worse reputation than his own. A dragoness even Ghleanna didn’t challenge unless she had no choice.
“Might as well go with you. Nothing left to do here.”
“Bored, are you?”
“Killed everything to be killed. There’s nothing left but women and children—and they’re no fun to kill. Even when they scream and beg for mercy.”
Bram yanked his arm away from her so he could walk off, but she caught the strap of his travel bag and held it. Knowing how precious the thing was to him, she knew he wouldn’t risk breaking it.
“Who is here with you?”
“A few of the younger ones. Cai, Hew, and Adain.”
“What? None of my sisters are here?” She was unable to hide her disappointment.
“They headed into the west for some new battle. But I think we weak male Cadwaladrs can handle protecting one royal, sister.”
“I guess you’ll do.”
“Gee. Thanks.”
“Well, don’t just stand there, you big ox. Go get them so we can be off.”
“All right.” He shoved the spear into her hands. “Kill the rest of this lot, would you? I’ll be right back.”
Once Addolgar walked away, the royal asked, “You really do hate me, don’t you?”
“Don’t be foolish. Of course, I don’t.” She began to work her way through the still-breathing humans at her feet, slamming the tip of the spear into a spot in their backs that would kill them quickly. There was no reason to prolong their suffering unless necessary. “Stop worrying. You’ll be fine. And as long as you’re under my protection, you have nothing to worry about.”
She finished off the last human, pulled the spear from his back, planted the tip in the ground, and leaned against the staff. She smiled at the royal. “Now doesn’t that make you feel better?”
Bram glanced at the bodies that surrounded them before answering, “Not really.”
“These are my brothers,” Addolgar said. “Cai the Green, Hew the Black, Adain the Yellow.”
“It’s gold, you bastard. I’m Adain the Gold.”
“Yellow. Gold.” Addolgar shrugged. “Who gives a centaur shit? Now,” he said to Bram, “they ain’t earned their names yet, but they ain’t half bad. You’ll be fine.”
“Yes,” Bram replied, “I feel safer already.”
“Good!” Addolgar boomed, missing the sarcasm completely. “Now . . . where’s Ghleanna?”
“She needed a few minutes alone,” Bram told him.
“Went to take a piss, did she?”
Cai slammed his sizable fist into his older brother’s shoulder. “Addolgar!”
“What?” And Bram saw that smirk. “It was just a question.”
“Don’t be such a bastard.”
“Don’t be such a suck-up,” Addolgar shot back.
“Why is he a suck-up?” Hew asked. “Because he doesn’t want you going on about our sister that way?”
“What way? All I asked was—”
“Shut it!” Adain snapped. “Blood and fire, you are such a bastard!”
“Fine. If the lot of you are going to get so girly about all this.” He turned away from his brothers and winked at Bram. And Bram, for the first time, felt a little more at ease. Especially since it seemed Addolgar would spend more time torturing his siblings than bothering with Bram.
“There you are!” Addolgar announced when his sister approached
them. “The royal here said you went off to take a piss.”
“Don’t involve me in this,” Bram told him.
“Right,” Ghleanna sighed. “That seems a very Bram thing to do. Announce that I’m off to take a piss. Next he’ll tell you when I’m about to take a sh—”
“Can we just go?” Cai—thankfully—cut in.
Ghleanna sized the youngster up. “When did you get so girly?”
“So where are we taking him?” Addolgar asked.
“To the east,” Bram explained. “The Port of Awbrey. There will be a boat there that will take us up the coast to the Alsandair ports. I’ll meet my contact there.”
“A boat?” Adain asked, frowning. “Why are you taking a boat? Why not just fly into the Desert Lands?”
“Flying into the Desert Lands would be seen as a sign of aggression by the Sand Dragons. And it’s faster to go by sea than to walk.
“That far south,” Ghleanna explained, “we’ve always traveled by foot unless escorted.”
“Why not fly over the ocean then?”
Bram, Addolgar, and Ghleanna laughed outright at that.
“Gods,” Bram observed, “they are young.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means you’ve got much to learn about Sea Dragons,” Ghleanna answered.
Addolgar explained, “If more than one or two dragons fly too far over the ocean, the Fins will definitely consider that a sign of aggression.”
Hew asked Bram, “So you really can’t make it on your own?” Bram could make it by himself easily, but he had his reasons for not flying over the ocean, alone or otherwise. Very good reasons. “Are you feeble in some way?”
“Babysitting the royal is Bercelak’s idea.” Ghleanna told them. “You going to disagree with him, brothers?” When her younger siblings didn’t answer, she nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Do you have any fighting skills?” Hew pushed.
“I have a mighty flame.”
The three younger brothers glanced at each other. “Don’t we all?” Cai finally asked.
“Mine’s stronger.”
Cai shook his head. “Gods, that’s pathetic.”
Addolgar slapped Cai in the back of the head—ignoring his cry of pain—and asked, “Do you want to move out tonight, Ghleanna?”