“Not everything can involve bloodshed, Annwyl.”
“Can’t you come get me when there is bloodshed? Otherwise just leave me alone to read.” Morfyd took Annwyl by the shoulders and none too gently shoved her back into the throne room.
Grudgingly, Annwyl returned to her throne and let the painful procession continue.
Eventually she stopped looking at any of them. She sat sideways in the big chair, her legs thrown over the arm. She responded to each representative politely enough, but she could no longer hide her annoyance at the entire process.
But when the heir to the House of Madron strutted in with his entourage, she knew she’d about hit the end of her tether.
The Madron advisor made the announcement. “Lady Annwyl of Garbhan Isle, the people of Madron bring you their thanks and undying loyalty.”
Annwyl glared at Brastias and Morfyd, huddled together in a corner watching her. They both knew her feelings about Hamish Madron. And how Hamish Madron felt about her.
Hamish stepped forward. “Lady Annwyl. It’s been so long since we’ve seen each other.”
“Lord Hamish.” She gave a wave of her hand and prayed the torture would end soon.
“Perhaps, lady, when you are done here we can dine together and discuss the future of our kingdoms.”
Annwyl smirked at the sudden look of panic on Brastias’s face. She knew what her old friend feared and she delighted in giving him exactly what he expected.
“No.”
A long pause followed as the Madron representatives took in her short, but direct answer.
Hamish pushed. “I’m sorry, lady. Is there something else that keeps your attention this night?”
“No. I just don’t like you.” Brastias rolled his eyes in exasperation. Poor thing, he didn’t realize that the torture had only begun. “You were ready to force me into marrying you. You’re lucky I let you keep your lands and your head.” Hamish glared at her. “Besides, Lord Hamish, any attempt to seduce me to get my crown would only have my dragon hunting you down and killing you. And I’d let him.”
Hamish became very pale and he didn’t bother hiding his disgust. “So the rumors are true then? You have mated with a dragon.”
“Very true. But, of course, if it bothers you, Lord Hamish... please, feel free to come and take my throne from me.”
* * *
Rhiannon landed and watched the men run for their lives. She really never tired of that moment. The panic on their tiny little faces. The sounds of their screams as they scurried off. She would have laughed and maybe sampled a few of the delicacies, but she had a purpose.
She needed that little human girl to get off her precious throne and return to her son. Any more time apart and there would be war. Already she’d regretted her recent insistence Fearghus come to the court. It cost Kesslene his life. It started with a simple, although admittedly crass, remark on Fearghus’s choice of mate. It should have led to a challenge between the two. But this time no challenge came. No warning. Fearghus calmly told him to apologize. Kesslene wondered aloud if he, too, would enjoy bedding the girl. And Fearghus snapped the dragon’s neck without a moment’s pause. All court activity stopped. True, it wasn’t the first time a brutal death happened in her court. Mostly due to Bercelak’s rage or parts of Gwenvael being where they should not. But this was the first time that Fearghus had caused the problem. And then Fearghus challenged any and all in the hall to take his rightful place among his clan. After seeing his hearty dispense of Kesslene, no dragon stepped forward. Not even his own kin would approach him.
Later, Rhiannon spoke with her children, asking them about their brother. His siblings expressed worry about their brother’s sadness. A word she would never use with Fearghus. He wasn’t as exuberant as Eibhear or as lusty as Gwenvael or as cocksure as Briec. He wasn’t even brutish and grumpy like her Bercelak. Instead, he lived quietly and calmly. He only became upset when he couldn’t have time to himself. He left the court earlier than any of her others because he couldn’t stand the noise or his siblings constantly pestering him. And she let him go with her blessings. She prided herself on understanding all her hatchlings. She understood them better than any of them realized. She knew he needed to be alone. And even when he took the throne as king, he’d be the same way still. Nothing would change that. Or him.
Then the chatty little human girl came along. Because of the girl, people now knew dragons could shift into human. Her sweet Eibhear, whom she always had such high hopes for, only spoke of mating for life with a human. A human! And her own daughter, heir to her Magick and power, actually
In the beginning, Rhiannon became convinced that the girl seduced her son—and clearly the rest of her family—with her feminine wiles. At least, that’s what she thought before she met her. But she quickly realized the girl had absolutely no feminine wiles to speak of. A hard warrior who risked death so she could protect all her tiny human kin. Rhiannon even stopped referring to her as “it” the moment she took her flame. She screamed, true, but mostly because the pain was excruciating. But once the process changed her body, the girl had gone on to take her brother’s head, become ruler of all Dark Plains and Garbhan Isle, and still unite with a dragon.
That still impressed Rhiannon. But now she had an unhappy son and she blamed the girl. A year had passed. The female tamped down all forms of insurgence with her tiny but mighty fist and now she needed to return to her mate. He’d Claimed her, she now belonged to him. If the girl changed her mind . . . well, it would be in her best interest
Rhiannon’s offer to Annwyl was simple. “Return to Fearghus now or suffer my wrath.”
She stalked through the castle, her children trailing behind her, Keita desperately trying to cover up her mother’s nakedness with a cloak. Her children had arrived a bit earlier and were already dressed. They lived among the humans more than she, and she often forgot how much the humans’ own bodies caused them such distress. She paused outside the throne room long enough to pull the cloak on, but stopped and halted her children at the sound of Annwyl’s voice.
“So the rumors are true then?” a male voice snapped in disgust. “You have mated with a dragon.”
“Very true. But, of course, if it bothers you, Lord Hamish . . . please, feel free to come and take my throne from me.”
Rhiannon exchanged glances with her children. Seemed she still might be underestimating the tiny human.
Annwyl swung her legs off the arm of the stone chair and stood to her full height. She looked in the eye of each and every head of the Houses before her. She tired of games and pretending. With all the Houses present, the time now came to make sure everyone understood her reign and her.
“Perhaps this is as good a time as any to clarify the situation for all. That way there are no misunderstandings. Yes. The rumors are true. My mate is Fearghus the Destroyer, the Black Dragon of Dark Plains. He is my mate and my consort. With him I shall rule. I understand if any of you have a problem with this. And please, feel free to try and take my throne from me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, but it razored across the silent hall like a shout. “Please.”
She waited. When none stepped forward she turned her back. But the flicker of Danelin’s eyes alerted her. They’d weathered many battles together and sometimes all you had time for was a look or one word. She knew exactly what he needed to tell her and she moved with her usual speed and brutality.
Annwyl pulled the jeweled dagger Fearghus gave her so long ago from her boot and, turning only her upper body, flung it behind her. The blade skewered the throat of a member of the House of Adhamhan who wanted to kill her in the name of his people. A big man in full armor, he wore no helm and Annwyl’s blade lodged itself right in his neck. His big body crashed to the floor, causing everyone but Annwyl and her troops to jump.
Annwyl stared at him for a long moment, letting it all settle in for everyone present. Then she looked over the faces of the nobles. “Anyone else?” No one moved. “I guess we are all clear now.”
She sat back on the throne, watching as Hamish scurried to the back of the hall. She glanced at Danelin. “Are we done now?”
He leaned in low so only Annwyl could hear him.
“There were to be three more, but I believe they may have run for their lives.”
“That weighs heavy on my heart, Danelin,” she muttered under her breath.
