“There has to be someone else, Rhiannon. Anyone else.”
“No one you’ll be as safe with as Ghleanna.”
Bram sighed and tried to think of how to carefully explain this to his dangerously unstable queen without insulting her or her recently acquired kin. At least now, though, they were in her privy chamber and away from the prying eyes and ears of her court.
“These are delicate negotiations, Rhiannon. The Sand Dragon King has to be handled with care. Infinite care.”
“Och! These moody foreign royals. How do you tolerate such moodiness, my friend?”
Did she even listen to herself? Probably not.
“With patience,” he answered. “And none of the Cadwaladrs are known for their patience.”
Rhiannon’s head tipped to the side, her blue eyes watching him. “But we are not speaking of the Cadwaladrs, are we, old friend? I sense that if we were speaking of any of Bercelak’s other kin this wouldn’t be such an issue. But we’re not. We’re speaking of Ghleanna.”
Bram swallowed. “So?”
The queen began to circle Bram, the tip of her tail drawing little signs in the dirt floor as she moved. “Pretty, strong, defiant, difficult, and scarred Ghleanna.”
“I know who she is, Rhiannon. I just don’t see—”
“All those scars from all those battles, littering her body. Her long, strong body. Even her tail has scars—and an extra long . . . tip.”
“Stop.”
“And when she gets angry, Bram . . . when she gets right up close and is threatening and vicious and cold; and you know in that second that you’ll never meet someone as deadly as—”
“Please stop.” Bram realized he was panting.
“We’ve been friends a long time, Bram. Do you really think I’ve forgotten?”
“I didn’t think you’d noticed.” No one else ever had—especially Ghleanna.
“Ghleanna is like the rest of her kin. Wonderful, but dense as thick marble.”
“That’s lovely, Rhiannon.”
“I adore them all but you need to be more direct with them when you want something.”
“She doesn’t know I exist. She never has.”
“Because you aren’t direct with her. You’re direct with everyone else, but once Ghleanna comes around you’re suddenly a shy schoolboy.”
“So? I should be like Feoras the Fighter instead?”
Rhiannon winced. “Heard about that, did you?”
“Everyone’s heard about it because the bastard’s told everyone.”
“That annoying little rodent. I should have his veins removed.” When Bram didn’t say anything, Rhiannon noted, “No calls for mercy, peacemaker?”
“Not this time, no. And stop looking at me like that. I never like cruelty from anyone. So it’s not as if I’m being particularly vicious here.”
“It’s endearing that you think not calling for mercy is vicious.” Rhiannon waved all that away with her claw. “Look, when it comes to males, Ghleanna the Black doesn’t know what she wants. So you’ll have to show her.”
“Show her?”
“It’s the perfect time. She’s absolutely ripe for the plucking.”
Bram blinked. “What?”
“Vulnerable. That’s the word. So it’s the perfect time for a good, worthy dragon to swoop in and get her.”
“Rhiannon!”
“What? I’m only trying to help.”
“That’s not helpful. That’s sneaky and deceitful.”
She gave a soft snort. “Two words you’re well acquainted with.”
“Only when we’re discussing politics. Ghleanna is not politics. She’s . . . she’s . . .”
“Scarred? Perfectly, perfectly scarred?”
“Stop, Rhiannon.”
“So many scars,” the viper whispered in Bram’s ear. “All from the different weapons of those trying to kill her. She has a scar here”—her tail drew a long diagonal line across Bram’s back—“from hip to shoulder where an ogre from the Dark Hills tried to cut her in half. He didn’t succeed, though. And Ghleanna slaughtered their entire army. And when the healers sewed her up”—Rhiannon went on—“she insisted on being awake so that she’d fully understand that even a moment of being unaware had drastic consequences.”
She pulled back slightly. “Why, Bram, you’re shaking.”
Because he was desperately trying to control his cock. It wouldn’t do to get hard in front of his queen. No matter what the vision of Ghleanna getting her battle wounds tended did to him.
“You’re cruel, Rhiannon. You were cruel when we were young—and you’re cruel now.”
“My mother was cruel, Lord Bram. I’m merely honest.” She kissed his snout. “And don’t ever say I’m not a good friend. I’m the best friend a dragon like you could hope for.”
He turned slightly, both of them very close to each other, and smiled. “Best friend, my ass.”
She laughed until that black snout pushed between them, forcing them apart, pitch black smoke streaming from the nostrils.
“Oh, hello, my love,” Rhiannon said to her consort. “I was just giving Bram here a pep talk before he goes to face those difficult Sand Dragons. Wasn’t I, Bram?”
“Uh . . . yes. She was.”
“Now go with my blessing. And good luck to you.”
Please don’t hug me. Please don’t hug me.
But she did.
Ghleanna waited outside the Queen’s Privy Chamber, not surprised when she heard her brother’s roar and the silver-haired royal slid-stumbled into the alcove, shoved there, no doubt by her intolerant kin.
“What were you thinking?” Ghleanna asked Bram without rancor. “Hugging her like that?”
“I didn’t hug her. She hugged me!”
“Uh-huh.”
A squeal came from the chamber and Rhiannon called out, “Bercelak! Put me down, you low-born bastard!” Although she didn’t sound nearly as angry as she wanted to.
“We better go,” Ghleanna offered, heading down the alcove.
“Yes, but—”
“No, Bercelak!” the queen cried out. “Not the collar! Not the chain! You bastard!”
“Stand there any longer, royal, and you’ll get a visual you’ll not forget for a very long while.”
Bram rushed up behind her, his eyes focused on the ground, his silver scales nearly glowing from embarrassment.
“That was . . . awkward.”
“Get used to it. Them two like to play their games.” Ghleanna shrugged. “And who are we to stop them? If it makes them happy.”
“I don’t mind what they do together. I just hate it when they involve the rest of us.”
“Then you shouldn’t be hugging the queen.”
“I didn’t hug the bloody queen!”
“If you want to believe that.”
Once out of the court, they headed to one of the exits that would lead them from Devenallt Mountain, the long-time Southland Dragon power stronghold and home to their reigning monarch.
“Look,” Ghleanna continued, “all I’m saying is that you’re my responsibility until this gets done. So perhaps you could not get me and yourself killed in the process. But especially me. I’m the most important.”
“I’ll do my best and yes, you heard sarcasm.”
Ghleanna stopped and faced the royal she was tasked with protecting. He was taller than she, but so were her brothers, and she could take most of them in a fight. And she had, too.
“Listen well to me, Bram the Silver. You may be of royal blood, but I’m a Cadwaladr who’s been given the task of keeping your peacemaking ass alive for the next few weeks, which means that until we return, you belong to me. So do us both a favor and don’t piss me off. I’d hate to return to your beloved queen with only your head in tow, your body and that precious alliance you’re so eager to have the Sand Eaters sign left back in the Desert Lands—both torn to shreds by me.”
He glared at her for what felt like several minutes until the royal snapped, “Damn that female, but she was right!”
And when Bram the Merciful stormed off, muttering to himself, Ghleanna could only shake her head and follow, readying herself for a deadly long trip she was not looking forward to at all.
Chapter 2
Ghleanna stood outside Bram’s home. She was allowing him time to pick up a few things before they got underway, and she was quite surprised.
“It’s a castle.”
“It is,” he said, digging through his travel bag for who knew what while walking across the small courtyard. They’d shifted to human and put on clothes a few miles back and Ghleanna realized she’d forgotten how attractive Bram was as human. Actually . . . very attractive. Long silver hair framed his handsome face and brought out the deep blue of his eyes. His nose was flat and a little wide, making her want to poke at it with her finger; his lips full; his jaw square; and his hands and fingers long and elegant. He was as tall as Addolgar but not nearly as wide. It was clear he spent no long hours working with any weapon except the one he had attached to his shoulders, but he wasn’t so thin that he looked emaciated or weak. There was some muscle there—very nice muscle.
“Why?” she asked, gazing up at the tower attached to the castle. It wasn’t a large building and it was a bit rundown, but it could last through a battle or two as the spears embedded in the castle wall and the bit of damage done to the gate could attest.
“Why what?” Honestly, was the dragon listening to her at all?
“Why do you live in a castle?” She thought only her father did that, Ailean the Wicked even going so far as to raise his offspring in one.
“I work with as many humans as dragons.” He tripped on his way through the doorway, but seemed to barely notice and she briefly wondered if he did it every time he walked through there. “And humans simply don’t feel comfortable coming to a cave to discuss business of any kind.”
They walked into the hall and Bram finally looked up from his bag.
“Charles?” he called out. “Are you here?”
A human ran in from the back somewhere.
“I’m here, my Lord. I’m here!”
“It’s Bram, Charles. You can call me Bram.”
“Of course, my Lord. Uh . . . my Lord Bram.”
Bram sighed and she knew he’d immediately given up.
“I need my papers for the Alsandair trip.”
“Yes, my Lord . . . uh . . . Lord Bram . . . uh . . .”
“And that book on etiquette of the Desert Lands. I should refresh my memory.”
“Oy,” Ghleanna finally cut in. “Don’t bring a whole bloody library. I’ll not be carrying all that bloody crap there and back.”
“I think I can manage a few books and papers by myself, Captain.”
“You better,” she muttered.
Bram faced her. “Are you going to be this difficult the entire trip?”