Bercelak pulled the thin silver chain he currently wore around his neck out from under his shirt. He kept the key to Rhiannon’s bondage on it. He unlocked the collar at her throat while she watched him with narrow eyes.
“What is this? What are you up to?”
Taking her hand, he pulled her onto the bed with him. “One of my brothers told me he got word from one of his friends at court . . .” Gods, how did he tell her this? He looked into Rhiannon’s clear blue eyes. They stared at him, waiting. No. There would be no delicate words for his female. She deserved nothing but absolute truth.
“Rumors are flying around court, Rhiannon.”
“Rumors? What kind of rumors?”
“Some are saying your mother wants you dead.”
She shrugged. “I already knew that.”
Rhiannon said it so nonchalantly. Whereas his kin would never believe in a million lifetimes Shalin would ever harm them in anyway, Rhiannon took it for granted her mother would.
“You are handling this much better than I did.” That was actually how he got the black eye. His brother told him the news. He called him a liar. They pushed, they shoved, they yelled, and then the hitting started. It wasn’t until their father, who tolerated no fighting among his offspring, jumped in. With one punch he snapped Bercelak out of his rage, and with one solid backhand across the face, Ailean controlled his younger son.
“What’s there to handle? This is the way of my life. Always has been. My father warned me long ago this time would come. That’s why he made sure I was trained.”
“Trained?”
“Aye. Whether human or dragon I can handle sword, mace, dagger, bow, and whip. I also know many forms of hand-to-hand combat.” She smiled and he saw pride light up her eyes. “And I can do things with flame that would amaze even you.”
He wondered if she even realized he still held her hands while they talked. “Amaze even me, eh?”
“Well . . . as a battle-dragon you must have seen many amazing things.”
Rubbing the back of her knuckles with his thumbs, he said, “Nothing as amazing as you, Rhiannon.”
Startled, she cleared her throat and looked away from him. “So what does this change?”
“Maelona knows a witch who may be able to help you now that you have your full powers. Tomorrow we’ll go see her together.”
“I don’t need you babysitting me, Bercelak. I think I can talk to a witch on my own.”
“She’s a very old dragon, Rhiannon, who will no longer shift to human. And I’ll not risk you.” Old dragons could be a bit unstable. Catch them on the wrong day and they would rip the scales from your body without a second’s thought. And what they were known for doing to humans. . . .
Sighing, she nodded. “Fine.”
“We’ll go in the morning.” Bercelak finally released her hands so he could push the fur from her shoulders. “Tonight I have other plans.”
She tried to hide her smile, but she didn’t do a very good job. “And I wonder what plans those could be.”
Chapter 8
“A white dragon, too. Haven’t seen your kind around in a bit.”
Rhiannon sighed heavily, mostly from boredom, as Bercelak stood in front of her, trying to get the old bitch to help them.
Donnfhlaidh, an
“Mistress,” Bercelak tried again with a patience Rhiannon had become well acquainted with, “we truly need your help.”
“She can’t shift back to dragon, can she?”
“No. She can’t.”
“Well, I can’t help her with that.”
“Fine!” Rhiannon’s patience ran out. She stormed around Bercelak. “If you won’t help me, I’ll find someone who will!” she yelled up at her.
The old dragon cackled hysterically. “Gods, Bercelak! Do you know what you’re getting yourself into with this one?”
Rhiannon, uncaring she had no protective scales, growled and moved forward. But something grabbed hold of the back of her gown and she turned to see that the tip of Bercelak’s tail had caught hold of the thick material and held her in place. She glared up at him and he winked.
She really should hate him, except he looked so regal in his full battle-dragon armor worn to impress the old bitch dragon. The metal breastplate, used to protect not only a dragon’s chest but his vulnerable underbelly during battle, fairly glowed with the fire coming from the pit. Bercelak’s was an intricate design of past battles. The detail of the work showed his rank. Then there were the scars covering a good portion of his body. . . .
Gods! What had he done to her? When did she become one of those lovesick females? How did she allow this to happen?
“Mistress, I ask you again . . . will you help us?”
“I can’t change her mother’s spell, Bercelak. The queen either has to die or your lady love will have to reverse it on her own.”
“And how do I do that?” Rhiannon sighed dramatically.
“Try this.” The old witch lobbed a book at her. Written by dragons, the book was enormous and with Bercelak’s tail holding her in place, she could only cringe as it neared her head. But one black claw reached out and snatched the book from the air.
“Ahh. Thank you, mistress.”
“Keep it. Soon I’ll need none of this any longer.” The dragon slowly turned and headed back deeper into her lair, but over her shoulder she said, “You do know that you two are well matched, don’t you? You, Princess, allow him to be kind rather than just a killer. And Bercelak allows you the ability to be a right bitch whenever you want.
“Aye,” she continued, her voice echoing in the cavern as she disappeared into the darkness. “You two are perfect together. And one day . . . one day your children will change
Bercelak watched his sister and mother work with Rhiannon to find the spell that would break the queen’s hold.
They’d been at it for hours, and he could see his female’s patience begin to wane.
When she literally roared in frustration, shaking the table they were all working on, he knew she badly needed a break.
“
“Come, Rhiannon.” He grabbed hold of her wrist and dragged her toward the exit. “Mother? You’ll be all right?”
“Go, go.” His mother didn’t even look up as she shooed them away. Except for one other brother, his poor mother was the only scholar of the clan. Deciphering ancient text was the kind of thing she lived for. “I’ll be fine.”
Using that to his advantage, Bercelak dragged Rhiannon from the castle and toward the woods.
“Where are we going?”
“You are dangerously tense, my love. I fear for my family’s safety.”
