Bram sighed. “Yes. I do adore being equated to a human child.”
After saying good-bye to her sons, Shalin returned to Ghleanna. They gazed at each other for a long moment.
“I love you, Mum.”
“And I you, my daughter.” They hugged again and then Ghleanna quickly turned away before she started to blubber like her mother. But she came face to chest with her father.
“And do I get nothing?” His voice lowered a bit. “Will I be paying for my past forever with you, my Ghleanna?”
Ghleanna looked up at her father. Gods, she adored that face. But still . . . “You do make it so very hard to be your daughter.”
“But worth it, yes?”
“Some days, Da . . . I really don’t know.”
She walked around him and tried to ignore the hurt she heard in his voice when he whispered, “Good-bye, little one.”
Ghleanna walked through the gates that surrounded her family home and toward the clearing where they could take off.
“You all right?” Bram asked her, his long stride matching hers.
“Aye.”
“You know, your father—”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“—he adores you like the suns.”
Ghleanna stopped abruptly, spun to face him. “Did my mother tell you that?”
“No. He did.”
“When? Today?”
“Once, years ago when I’d stopped by to discuss some strategy with a difficult Duke who’d decided dragons needed to be hunted by his army—”
“Why didn’t you just kill the Duke and his army?”
“Which was why I spoke to your father, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, you walked in, slammed a blood-covered axe on the table and said, ‘Thanks for the axe, Da. Worked like a charm.’ Then you walked back out and he sighed and said with great pride, ‘I adore that girl like the suns.’ Then we went back to our conversation—with that blood-covered axe sitting there the entire time.” Bram gazed off. “I tried not to take it as an unspoken threat.”
Ghleanna shook her head a little. “Is that really true?”
“I lie when I have to, Ghleanna. Like when I tell people our queen is utterly sane or that ‘No. Of course Bercelak would never kill your offspring while you slept.’ But on something like this? That is not something I’d lie about.”
“You don’t understand. I am judged by my father’s past deeds because, as usual, he didn’t think past his cock. I am Ailean the Slag’s daughter, after all, which to many means I’m no more than a slag myself.”
“You are judged by your father’s past because you allow yourself to be. Because you allow yourself to feel shame for the life he decided to live. How is that Ailean’s fault? Perhaps you should accept him as he is—the way he’s accepted you.”
“Know so much about my family, do you, royal?”
“Well . . . I did live with your parents for a year while I studied alchemy under your mother.”
Ghleanna frowned. “You did? When was that . . . well, don’t walk off mad! It was an innocent question!”
Chapter 5
They flew the rest of the day and late into the night until they reached the outskirts of the city of Baynham. Instead of sleeping outside, though, they all decided to go into town, get some warm food and soft beds.
But it had been someone’s brilliant idea for them all to stay in the pub for the night and share a single room with several beds. There was just one problem—the Cadwaladr males’ ability to snore in a way that suggested very loud temple construction.
It wasn’t even that Bram was a light sleeper. He wasn’t. Far from it, having slept through all manner of things during the time he traveled the length and breadth of the Southlands for several years. But four Cadwaladr males in one room? That was too much even for him.
They didn’t even snore in unison, but instead created a wall of sound that surrounded him so that Bram could never hope to find sleep anytime soon. After many hours of trying, he finally gave up, pulled on his boots, and slipped out of the room. Once he closed the door behind him, he let out a deep sigh of relief that the thick wood at least blocked a bit of the noise those dragons could make.
“Making a run for it?”
Ghleanna sat on the stairs that led to the next floor of rooms. She had one of her axes in her lap and was sharpening the blade.
“No offense to you, Ghleanna, but that noise—”
“I know. I know. Why did you think I offered to take first watch? Hew’s the worst of the lot, though, with Addolgar a close second.”
He motioned to the steps. “Mind if I join you or are you still mad at me for what I said earlier?”
Ghleanna hadn’t spoken to him since they’d left her father’s lands, and Bram knew he should have stayed out of it—but he couldn’t. Her rage at her father was unwarranted and for some reason none of her kin would tell her so.
In answer to Bram’s question, however, Ghleanna simply moved over a bit and placed her axe on the landing behind her.
Bram sat down beside her, and asked, “Too close?” “Not so’s I mind.”
Bram nodded and stared straight ahead. “Any trouble so far tonight?” he asked when the silence began to choke him to death.
“Nay. Quiet as a tomb.”
“Do you think a watch is necessary?”
“If my brother Bercelak is worried for your safety—it’s better to err on the side of caution.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes until Bram asked, “Is that what taking first watch entails? Sitting around, sharpening your weapons . . . and waiting?”
“Mostly.”
“No books to read?”
“Don’t need any.”
“No one to talk to?”
“Too much chatter gets on my nerves.”
“Do you ever find yourself wishing for an attack of some kind to help with the boredom?”
“Not really.”
Bram gazed at her. “You truly are a soldier, aren’t you?”
“Me mum used to say I came out of my egg saluting and already in formation. Not sure I believe her, though.”
Bram chuckled. “I adore your mother. One of the kindest dragons I’ve ever known.”
“Aye. That she is.”
“And skilled with the written word as well.”
Ghleanna shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. Not much of a reader.”
“Well, tell me, because there’s always been some debate among my friends and I, and your mother won’t admit anything one way or the other—did your mother help your father write those books of his?”
Bram, finally enjoying their late-night conversation, thought it was an innocent enough question—until the tip of one of Ghleanna’s blades pressed against his throat, her black eyes angry as she glared at him.
Apparently not an innocent question at all.
Seething with rage, Ghleanna hissed, “You dare bring up those books to me, royal?” The series of books that had chronicled her father’s sexual escapades before he met Shalin—the damn things were still bestsellers. “Do you think I won’t cut your throat and leave you bleeding out on these steps like a cow used for sacrifice? Do you think Rhiannon can protect you from me?”
His gaze on hers, his voice steady, the royal stated, “I meant no offense, Captain. Although I don’t know why you’d be so offended.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she snapped back. “The daughter of a whore’s just a whore herself, right? You want to think I’m no more choosey about my bedmates than my father—fine. But don’t you dare bring my mother into it. She’s the purest thing my father’s had in his life and I’ll not have you sully it with your—”
“Wait.” He was remarkably calm considering the fact that she had her favorite blade to his human throat—opening a main artery was a sure way to kill a dragon in human form. “I don’t think we understand each other.”
“We understand each other quite well. No wonder you’ve been so bloody nice to me. You’re no better than the rest. Be nice to me, talk sweet to me, tell me my father adores me, then get me on my back or my knees, so you can run around telling everyone how you f**ked the slag’s daughter. Isn’t that it, royal?”
“Ghleanna,” he began slowly, speaking to her as if she were a very slow child, and she knew some centaur-shit soothing words would leave his mouth. He was well known throughout the kingdom for his ability to talk himself out of any situation. Yet she had to say . . . she was curious to see where he’d go. “I know that your father—and especially your mother—did not write the books you speak of. From what I understand, they were written without Ailean’s knowledge or consent. Those are not the books I meant.”
Ghleanna frowned. “Then what are you talking about?”
“The book your father wrote about handling close-quarter combat with Lightnings. Another about fighting human legions in open battlefields with no trees or mountains for cover. And there’s another on tactical maneuvers in the Western Mountains when fighting the barbarian tribes. He dedicated that one to you because of your work there a few decades back before you received your captain’s rank. But my favorite is about his peacekeeping efforts in the Outerplains between humans and dragons. He had some brilliant suggestions on how to use what he did there with all humans in the Southlands to ease negotiations. Of course, a lot of dragons think it’s a scandalous and outrageous book because his insane suggestions included things like not eating humans, not destroying their villages, not stomping on them for fun. Your father has some very unorthodox ideas,” Bram finished with a smile.
Yet when Ghleanna could only gawk at him, the hand with the blade sitting limply in her lap, Bram asked, “You did know your father had written books on philosophy and war tactics, didn’t you?”
As a matter of fact . . . no! She didn’t know. She’d had no clue. Her father? Writing books? Even with her mother’s help . . . her father barely read! Not that he was stupid. Far from it. But he’d always been so busy raising his offspring and teaching them how to protect themselves—mostly against him and his two brothers—that he’d never bothered to share his philosophy on anything other than what they should do the next time he and Uncle Arranz tossed their human forms off the roof.
“Gods, Ghleanna, you didn’t know, did you?” Bram asked, sounding appalled. She knew the peacemaker’s family was very close and very . . . cultured. They probably sat around a dinner of roasted oxen and discussed world events. When her family got together, there was mostly just drinking and arguing, arguing and drinking. She loved it, though. Still . . . Bram would know if his father had written any books. And he would have read them. Bragged about them. Ghleanna, as much as she loved her father, also resented him because he hadn’t seemed to be able to keep his blasted c*ck in his pants before he’d taken her mother as his mate. A reputation that had haunted her since she was of an age to take lovers.