by G. A. Aiken
One very dark eyebrow raised over even darker eyes, a smirk on the handsome man’s face. “You were supposed to be back weeks ago.”
“Sorry if the war isn’t running to your timetable, lord.”
“I see,” he said, a lock of coal-black hair slipping from under the hood of his cape and across his eyes. “Someone’s begging for me to—”
“All right then,” Morfyd cut in, taking firm hold of Izzy’s shoulders and pushing her in the direction of the Protectors. The girl went, but her eyes stayed glued on what Talaith could only assume was Annwyl’s husband.
Looking back at the huge man, Morfyd shook her head. “Hello, Fearghus.”
Without turning away from Annwyl’s face, the man motioned at the witch. “Morfyd.”
Morfyd crooked a finger at Talaith. “Come, sister. Let’s get you settled. I fear you and I are much too young for such a display.”
The couple hadn’t moved any closer to each other, but they didn’t need to be any closer. The way they stared at each other was enough to make anyone feel like intruders.
“No need. We’re leaving.”
Annwyl grinned at Fearghus’ words. “Oh? Are we?”
“Aye.” He took firm hold of Annwyl’s hand. “To Dark Glen with you, wench.”
Morfyd turned. “Fearghus, wait. There is much to discuss.”
“Later, sister.”
“Much later,” Annwyl added with a very girlish giggle, Fearghus dragging her behind him.
Morfyd sighed in exasperation and walked toward the castle steps, leading Achaius, Izzy and the other men into the building and to their rooms.
But Talaith didn’t follow; too busy staring at the retreating form of Annwyl’s husband. Fearghus. The way he moved seemed familiar. Extremely familiar. She watched him until the couple disappeared around the corner of the castle.
“No. No,” she muttered to herself. If she kept this up, she’d see Briec everywhere. In every man she met until the end of her days. She couldn’t live like that.
No. Fearghus was merely a very large man. Perhaps a tad unnaturally large but a mother could achieve that with the proper spells and sacrifices. Besides, that behemoth was what someone like Annwyl needed.
Exactly someone like Annwyl would need.
Convinced she was right, Talaith let out a deep sigh of relief, only to choke on it as a black horned head appeared from around the corner Annwyl and Fearghus had only moments before disappeared behind. Long, long black hair brushed the ground. So as not to damage the surrounding buildings, he kept his black wings tucked tight against his body. His dragon body. And on that dragon sat an extremely happy and content Annwyl.
Panic and excitement vying for possession of her lungs, Talaith watched silently as Fearghus—and she knew it was Fearghus—took to the air. Her eyes tracked the couple—and they were a couple—until they passed another dragon.
“No, no, no. This isn’t happening.” Stepping away from her horse, Talaith stared up at the sky. There were so many! Dragons of every color flew above her. Some sat patiently on the silver-tipped spires of the castle chatting with other dragons flying around them.
From a distance, she hadn’t seen the dragons because they didn’t want to be. Most likely for defense of Garbhán Isle.
Placing her hand over her chest, she realized that yes, her heart did just stop in her chest. Didn’t she actually need that to beat? “This can’t be happening.”
Talaith needed answers. And she needed them now. She sprinted into the castle, pushing past soldiers and guards, through the Great Hall where they were already setting up for the evening’s feast, and up the stone steps. She found Morfyd and the others on the second floor.
“Oh, Talaith. Good. This will be your room.”
“Good.” Talaith grabbed Morfyd’s arm and shoved her into the bedroom. “Give us a moment, Iseabail,” she said to her daughter’s surprised face before slamming the door shut.
“What’s wrong with—”
“Fearghus just flew away.”
“Oh.” And she watched Morfyd try to hide that smile. Conniving, betraying bitch!
“That’s all you have to say?”
“Don’t yell at me, witch,” Morfyd snapped back.
“What do you expect me to do? You lied to me.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“You saw everything, Morfyd. You were in my mind. Uninvited if you remember. You knew about Briec.”
That damn smirk returned. “Aye. I did.”
“Then how could you not tell me?”
Morfyd’s eyes narrowed. “There’s that yelling again.”
Talaith’s eyes closed as she realized something. “Fearghus called you ‘sister’.” And not like witches called each other “sister”. But as annoyed siblings.
“Aye.”
Which means…
Talaith headed back toward the door. “We’re leaving.” She’d take her daughter and go. She couldn’t stay here. Not now.
She had her hand on the metal door handle when Morfyd’s voice stopped her. “And where will you go, Talaith, Daughter of Haldane? Where will you take Izzy and think you will be safe? Annwyl seems to think it’s over, but we both know it won’t be over. Not until Arzhela is somehow dealt with.”
Morfyd now stood next to her. “But you’ll be safe here. Under my protection and the protection of my people. If you run now—”
“I’ll run forever,” Talaith finished for her.
“You both will. And hasn’t Izzy run enough?”
Talaith laid her head against the door. “But Briec—”
“Briec never comes here.” Morfyd stroked Talaith’s hair from her face. No one but Briec had ever touched her merely out of kindness. “He hates this castle. Detests Annwyl. And barely tolerates the rest of us. The farthest he’ll go is Dark Plains. Fearghus’ den. He won’t be here. And, if you wish, I won’t tell him you’re here. If that’s truly what you wish.”
She didn’t hesitate. “No. I don’t want him to know I’m here.” She’d worked hard the last few days to push him from her mind and her heart. To let him back in now would only lead to her broken heart when he was finally done with her.
“Then I’ll never tell him.”
Talaith, suddenly drained beyond all reckoning, pulled her door open. “Thank you, Morfyd.”
The one she now knew to be one of the rare dragonwitches her mother and the sisterhood spoke of in reverent tones—when they spoke of few beings that way—nodded and walked out. Talaith could hear her showing the men their rooms. But Izzy stepped in before she could close the door.
“Is everything all right?”
Talaith nodded, fairly dragging herself across the room to the big bed in the middle of it. She dropped back on it, ignoring her dirty, travel-worn clothes. “Everything’s fine, Izzy.”
The door closed, but Talaith knew Izzy hadn’t left. The bed dipped as Izzy stretched out beside her.
“I talk too much, don’t I?”
Talaith, grateful for the distraction, laughed. “We both do, I think.”
“Were you disappointed when you finally met me?”
Talaith turned on her side, propping her head up with her hand. “Of course not.” She reached out and took gentle hold of Izzy’s hair, running her fingers through the wavy, light brown strands. Her daughter never let her soft hair get too long. It barely touched her shoulders and already she complained it was getting “unruly”.
“You remind me so much of your father.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“It’s the best. I loved him. He was handsome and brave and very tall. Spoke his mind, too.”
Izzy, a naturally affectionate girl, reached out and took hold of Talaith’s free hand. “You should know,” she intoned in mock seriousness, “I have a real problem with speaking my mind.”
“Yes. I’ve noticed you’re a shy, retiring girl.”
“And coquettish.”
Laughing, Talaith reveled in her daugh
ter’s good humor. Considering what Iseabail had been through, she admired that.
Still, she didn’t want the poor girl shocked to death when she went outside.
“Izzy, there is something I should tell you—”
“By the gods!” Izzy scrambled off the bed and dashed to the large windows. She pushed open the enormous and heavy glass—no arrows would be getting through that thick material—and leaned out. “Look!”
Terrified she’d lure them over, Talaith quickly moved to her daughter’s side. “Get inside, Izzy,” she ordered while pulling the windows closed.
Izzy stared at her. “You’re not scared of them, are you?”
The way her daughter asked that made Talaith extremely nervous, she simply didn’t know why. “Aren’t you?”
“Why would I be? He who protects me is…uh…hmmm…” Izzy suddenly found interest in the molding around the window.
Grabbing hold of her daughter’s arms, she turned Izzy to face her. “Iseabail?”
“Yes?”
“The god who protects you…”
“He’s ever so nice,” she rushed to explain. “And, as you see, he picked only the finest men to protect me and—”
“Your god is a dragon?”
“There’s no reason to yell,” Izzy mumbled. “He’s protected me for years. He’s never hurt me or asked anything of me. Except not to say who he was. He said people wouldn’t understand. Guess I mucked that up, eh?”
“Dammit, Izzy.”
“You don’t understand. He’s taken such good care of me. He’s taught me to read and write. Some math and science, although I’m not very good at it. As well as history, which I’m excellent at.”
“And he wants nothing in return for all that care? All that protection?”
“He doesn’t. He’s never asked me for anything.”
“Do your Protectors know?”
She shook her head. “He was only a voice to them. Figured it was less scary.”
“But you…”
She shrugged. “Always dragon. Came to me in my dreams. I never minded. I found him comforting.”
“Who, Izzy?”
Frowning in confusion, “Who what?”
“Who’s this dragon god that protects you?”
She smiled. “Well, Rhydderch Hael, of course. Who else would be powerful enough to protect me from the human gods?”
Talaith closed her eyes, her stomach dropping with dread. “Rhydderch Hael? He’s your protector?”
“Aye.”
“The father of all dragons is your protector? That’s what you’re telling me?”
“He’s oh so very nice,” she insisted.
Talaith racked her brain, trying to remember what the teachings of the Nolwenn witches said about Rhydderch Hael. She knew him to be one of the oldest gods on this world and many others. He had a loyal mate. A dragon goddess of equally awesome power who many feared.
Dragons were his domain. He protected them, gave them Magick and skills, and he merely asked they take care of the world they inhabited. For centuries, eons even, it worked. But new gods appeared. Fickle gods hungry for power who brought the humans with them. It changed everything. Especially when the humans insisted on hunting dragons and dragons found humans so very tasty.
Many believed some of the humans’ gods, including Arzhela, decided to destroy Rhydderch Hael, hoping they would assume his power and take control of this world, as well as many others. But, as always, they underestimated the rage of a female. Rhydderch Hael’s mate fought by his side and rallied the other dragon gods to his cause. They pushed Arzhela and her god kin back into their realm, creating a seal that would keep them out forever while the humans’ gods did the same.
Since then, both sides used the humans and dragons as their warriors or pawns in the hopes of obtaining more and more power. So far, the balance remained.
But Talaith knew well that the slightest shift could change everything forever.
“Izzy,” she sighed because she didn’t know what else to say.
Izzy perked up. “But don’t you find dragons fascinating?”
Talaith rolled her eyes. “No.” Arrogant and annoying, yes. Fascinating—never.
Izzy stared out the closed window. “Think one of them will take me flying?”
Walking back to her bed, Talaith dropped on it face first and pretended she didn’t just hear that.
Chapter Nineteen
“Stop fidgeting.”
“Sorry.” Iseabail held still for about thirty seconds…then began again.
“Izzy.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve never been to a party before.”
“Keep this up and you won’t go to this one because you won’t be dressed.”
Izzy the Dangerous stared in the full-length mirror at the reflection of the woman who gave birth to her. She was busy tying up the back of Izzy’s dress. It was Izzy’s first dress since she was seven. And definitely her first grown-up gown.
She still couldn’t believe it had only been two weeks since her life completely changed. She went from homeless, motherless bastard wandering the land with three very poor soldiers to merely a bastard. But she had a home now. And a mother. A mother she loved. She’d loved her before she knew her, but the risk still remained her mother could have turned out to be a horrible, beastly woman. She wasn’t. She was amazing. And so funny. If there was one thing Izzy loved to do, it was laugh. Her mother kept her laughing—constantly.
“Finally.” Talaith, who told her it was up to her if she wanted to call her mother, gripped her hips and turned her around so that mother and daughter faced each other. She frowned deeply at Izzy’s chest. “I don’t much like how low-cut this is.”
Izzy glanced down. “Why? It’s not like I have anything to speak of.”
“Yet. If you’re anything like me, you’re a late bloomer. Still, this is cut awfully low.” Suddenly her mother’s hands gripped the bodice of her dress and pulled up.
Rolling her eyes in exasperation and batting at her mother’s hands, “There will be other girls there my age and they will have similar gowns.”
“Don’t care. It’s up to their mothers if they want them seen as whores.”
The two looked at each other. It was Izzy’s snort that forced them into a fit of giggles.
“That’s a horrible thing to say!”
“Perhaps.” Talaith picked up a rose garland from off the bed. Izzy wasn’t old enough yet to have flowers threaded through her hair like her mother’s. But the garland was beautiful and smelled wonderful. “But just you remember, daughter. Achaius will be watching out for you tonight.” Achaius had taken Annwyl’s offer of staying, while her two other Protectors planned to return to their homes and families after the feast.
“Any of these lusty soldiers get within five feet and they’ll regret it.”
“You and Achaius have been strategizing again,” Izzy complained. They did that a lot, it seemed.
Talaith placed the garland on Izzy’s head and adjusted it until she gave a satisfied sniff. “That’ll do.”
She stepped back and looked her daughter over. She smiled, but it quickly turned into another frown. Crouching, Talaith lifted the hem of Izzy’s dress a bit. “What are these on your feet? Where are the slippers I gave you?”
Izzy looked down at the leather boots she wore, fitted with blades on both sides. Annwyl lent them to her. They both had equally huge feet. “Slippers? What if I have to run for my life or fight an animal to the death? Can’t do that in those girly slippers now can I?”
Turning, Izzy headed toward the door, but she could hear her mother mumbling under her breath, “Yes, you’re my daughter all right.”
Fearghus sighed. “Move your ass, woman.”
“Control yourself, dragon,” Annwyl called back from the connecting room she kept as her own. She filled it with her clothes, armor, weapons and books. Always books for his Annwyl. But when they were together, they shared the same bed.
“
Explain to me again why we’re having this party.” He’d much prefer spending the evening eating something hearty and then burying himself balls-deep in his woman until morning. Parties, like most things besides Annwyl, bored him.
“It’s not a party. It’s a feast. And it’s in honor of my men, their families and whatever else you want to think of.”
Stretched out on the bed, Fearghus threw one arm over his eyes. “Can’t they have their feast without us?”
“You’re whining, Fearghus. Don’t whine. Now, how do I look?”
He lowered his arm, his breath catching at the sight of her. Annwyl hadn’t even worn a dress at her coronation. Why she decided to wear one tonight, he had no idea, but he’d be eternally grateful. A deep, dark forest green, the dress molded to her every curve, hugging tight across her large breasts. The tight sleeves reached to the middle of her hands, covering his markings, and a piece of velvet looped around the middle finger on each hand, holding the sleeves in place. Her golden brown hair, threaded through with green flowers, reached below her waist.
But leave it to his Annwyl—she still had two swords tied to her back. Of course, they weren’t her big battle swords, but a pair he’d had made for her with jeweled hilts—the blades still sharp as sin, though.
“You look beautiful.”
After everything they’d done together, everything they’d been through, he still had the ability to make her blush.
“Um…thank you.”
He held his hand out to her. “Come here, Queen Annwyl.”
She took a step toward him, then stopped. “Oh, no. You’ll not get me that easy, knight.” She still hadn’t realized that when she desired him, she always went back to what she originally used to call his human form before she knew the dragon and the man were all the same being. “They’re expecting us. We have guests to greet.”
Fearghus growled. “I said come here.”
With a less than queen-like squeal, Annwyl dashed back into her room. Before she disappeared, Fearghus saw she wore leather boots, blades shoved into the sides. My Annwyl. He’d have her no other way…except on her back.
He charged off the bed and snatched the door leading from their room to the hall open. She’d just come out of the other room. When she saw him, she squealed again and ran toward the stairs. He followed, both of them pushing past some of the highest human and dragon royalty in the land. A few they knocked into the wall. Neither cared.