his mind that Braith had betrayed his precious Queen. And for Bercelak the Unpleasant there was only one way to deal with a traitor to the throne.
Addolgar opened his mouth to yell a warning at Braith, but Ghleanna slapped her hand around his mouth, silencing him. He tried to run forward, but one of his good-sized cousins caught hold of him and held him back.
“Shhhh,” Ghleanna whispered against his ear. “We’ve all got gold on this.”
Addolgar rolled his eyes, disgusted by all his kin . . . and the fact that he hadn’t gotten in on the betting.
Bercelak was near Braith by now, his human body moving silently, the sword raised in one hand. If he moved fast enough and severed the spine at the base of Braith’s neck, it would be the fastest way to kill her, or any dragon, in human form.
Suddenly Braith’s head came up, and without missing a step, she turned and swung. Bercelak was close behind her now so that the chains didn’t stop her from making contact with his face.
Bercelak blinked, stumbled a step, blinked again, and fell straight back, crashing to the stone floor.
Shaking out her hand, Braith faced them. She stood there, staring, as the Cadwaladrs stared back. Until Ailean barked, “You lot owe me. Pay up!”
With groans and growls of disappointment, Addolgar’s kin began tossing gold coins on the table in front of his father.
Disgusted, Addolgar faced Ailean. “You bet against your own son?”
“Just like you, the boy doesn’t pay attention. And seeing that she’s just like her mother, he didn’t stand a chance against Braith of the Darkness.”
“Mum?” Addolgar said to his mother.
“Because I love him,” she reminded them all as she’d been doing for centuries. “That’s what I’m doing with your father. I love him. So, honestly—just let it go already.”
Holding a wet cloth to his head, Bercelak was helped into a chair by his younger sister Maelona.
Maelona wasn’t much like the rest of her siblings. Sweet and lithe in her human form, she took more after her mother than her father. A healer rather than a warrior. Which was good—a healer was clearly something this group needed.
“You bet against me?” Bercelak demanded of his father, completely ignoring Braith, who sat across from him.
“You seem surprised,” Ailean replied, busy counting his freshly earned gold.
“And explain to me,” Bercelak snarled at the rest of his kin, “why this traitor to our Queen is still breathing?”
“Perhaps we think she’s too pretty to kill?” one of the cousins suggested with a smile.
“We don’t have time for your jokes, Kel,” Bercelak snapped back.
“Thank you,” Braith mumbled as she again focused on the ridiculous chains. “Thank you very much.”
“This isn’t Braith’s fault,” Shalin told her son. “It’s her father’s.”
“And I guess she wants to protect him as well.”
Braith shrugged. “Eh.”
“We’re not going to hold against Braith what her father has done.”
“Done with her help, I’d wager.”
“She wasn’t part of it,” Addolgar cut in. “And she saved my life.”
“Who cares about
Addolgar was silent for a moment before he replied, “I do.”
Braith studied the dragon who sat next to her. “You had to think about that reply?”
“Wanted to make sure it wasn’t a trick question, didn’t I?”
“If she lives, chances are high we all die,” Bercelak reminded them.
“Not all of us,” another cousin reasoned. “Probably just you lot.”
“And that suits you, then, does it?”
The cousin shrugged. “No, but you should be clear.”
Bercelak closed his eyes, a long sigh escaping his lips. “Why do I bother with any of you sorry bastards?”
“See?” Addolgar said to Braith. “That could be a trick question.”
“Would you stop fooling around?” Bercelak snapped, his typically short temper even shorter. In fact, there were newborn mice that were longer than his brother’s temper. “This is serious. The Queen will want her head.”
“And we will not give that bitch anything.” Shalin looked around the table. “Why are you all staring at me?”
Maybe because Shalin only let her anger out when it came to the current queen. Addiena and Shalin had a past revolving around Addolgar’s father, and it was something they all understood but rarely discussed. They all knew about Ailean the Slag’s past, but discussing it was something not to be done. Some, like Addolgar, merely snickered at the details of their father’s past. But Ghleanna and Bercelak felt there was nothing funny about the way Ailean had lived his life before making their mother his all those years ago.
“Mum,” Bercelak kindly said, their mother being one of the few dragons he showed any true respect for. “We can’t just dismiss this. Whether it was Addiena or her mother, this is something that would be considered treachery by any who held the throne.”
“He’s right,” Braith said softly, her gaze now on Shalin. “I don’t know why my father did this, whether he has intentions of taking the throne for himself or for someone who has offered him more than Addiena. But whatever his reason, this cannot be ignored. It has to be dealt with.”
“Aye, it does,” Brigida announced as she made her slow way back into the hall. She had her walking stick in one hand and a jug of Ailean’s ale in the other.
“And what do you suggest, Auntie Brigida?” Ghleanna asked.
Brigida stopped by Bercelak’s side and began to tap him on the head with her walking stick. With an annoyed growl, Bercelak got the hint and moved out of the chair and into another one while Brigida took his place and slowly settled her ancient human body at the table.
“I don’t know. But I think until we come up with something, we need to stash Lady Fisticuffs away some place safe.”
“What about your own kin, female?” Bercelak asked Braith.
“You mean the kin who just turned on the Queen and made me into a walking target?” Braith asked, her attention still on those chains.
“No. I was thinking more your mother—”
“Is dead.”
“I know,” Bercelak snarled. “But if I recall, your mother has sisters, aunts—”
“No. Going to my Penarddun kin is not an option,” she said simply.
Shalin leaned forward. “Braith, dear, why ever not? The Penarddun She-dragons are very loyal . . . to their daughters.”
“My mother’s kin made it perfectly clear to me after she died that they wanted nothing to do with me.”
“Did you ever tell them how you feel?” Shalin asked her.
Braith winced. “I’m not good at that sort of thing.”
“Your mother passed years ago,” Bercelak told Braith. “Are you trying to tell me that in this instance they won’t—”
“Yes. I’m telling you they won’t . . . ahaaaaaaa!” she abruptly crowed, startling everyone at the table. She held up her still-cuffed hands, but now the chain between the cuffs was in two distinct pieces. “Got it!”
She’d pulled the steel chains with her fingers until she’d broken them apart. Something that amazed every Cadwaladr in the room.
Addolgar looked at a shocked Ghleanna and Bercelak, then back at a smiling Braith. “You do know that dwarves made those chains, don’t you?” he asked.
