by G. A. Aiken
Although it was hurting much less then it did when she first returned, hiding it from her mother would not be easy.
“Oi!”
Izzy snapped around as Éibhear kicked open her door and marched in. “Where is it, you little brat?”
“Where’s what?”
“My blade. Gwenvael saw you steal it. So don’t bother lying.”
“Why would I lie? It was simply another bet Gwenvael lost. He said I couldn’t get it from you again. As always, he failed to have any faith in me.”
“Give it.”
“Don’t snarl at me because I took your blade from you. If you paid more attention—”
“Hand it over. I’ve got plans tonight with Gwenvael before he heads to the Northern Lands and I won’t waste my time with you.”
“Fine!” She marched to her bed and reached under it, hauling out the extremely heavy weapon. “How you didn’t notice I was taking this, I’ll never know. I dropped it three times.”
“I was in the middle of a conversation.”
“With that rich whore?”
Éibhear didn’t bother answering, simply snatched the sword from her. “Stay away from my things, demonspawn.”
“Leave. You bore me already.”
She turned away from him, but he grabbed her arm and yanked her back. Izzy was seconds away from pulling her knife from her boot until she saw that her dress was still down over her shoulder.
“Izzy, where the hell did you get this?”
She tried to pull her arm away. “None of your business.”
Éibhear shook her and she stopped squirming. “Answer me.”
Izzy lowered her eyes. “It’s the mark of Rhydderch Hael.”
“Why do you have it?” When she didn’t answer, Éibhear pushed her away. “What the hell have you done?”
She had no answer, but he wasn’t waiting for one. “I’m getting Talaith.”
She grabbed him before he reached the door. “You do, and I’ll make your life a living hell.”
“You already do.” He shoved her away, but she’d always been quick and jumped between him and the door before he could get it open.
“Please, Éibhear.”
“I can’t keep this from your mother, princess.”
“Don’t call me that.” He’d started calling her that a few days ago and she had no idea why. She just knew she didn’t like how he said it.
“Move,” he ordered.
“She’ll run!” she blurted out, desperate.
Éibhear stopped.
“We both know she will. And she’ll take me with her.” When Éibhear didn’t move, she kept going. “Right now she feels safe because she feels I’m safe. She’s finally happy. Briec makes her happy as she makes him happy. But if she thinks for a second I’m in danger or that she may lose me to another god…she’ll run. Back to Alsandair. And you’ll never find us.”
“You think so, do you?”
“She may be learning the healing arts now, Éibhear, but don’t fool yourself a moment about my mother. She’s still a trained assassin who will do anything to survive. And she’ll do absolutely anything to protect me.”
He finally released the door handle. “Why did you do this, Izzy?”
“I had no choice. It was the only way to bring her back alive. But she can’t ever know that.”
“What did you promise him?”
She shrugged. “Everything.”
Éibhear let out a deep sigh. “Dammit, Izzy.”
“I know. But what could I do? She’s my mother.”
Éibhear nodded. “I understand.”
“Then you won’t say anything?”
He shook his head and she so wanted to run her hands through his blue mane. He’d look so adorable with warrior braids. But anytime she tried to touch him, he practically threw her across the room.
“Thank you.”
“Hear me well, though, little girl. If he tries to claim anything from you before your eighteenth winter, I will go to your mother and Briec.”
She nodded. “Fair enough.” Somehow she knew it would be years before Rhydderch Hael called on her. He wanted her trained and ready. And she would be.
“Go on, then. Fix your dress. Make sure that thing doesn’t show. And I’ll see you downstairs.”
He opened the door and Izzy asked, “Will you save a dance for me then?”
His shoulders tightened and without even turning around, he muttered, “Maybe in another sixteen years, princess.”
She waited until he was out in the hallway before she answered. “Not a problem. I can wait.”
Grinning, she closed the door, but not before she saw him slam face first into the wall.
Briec barely grabbed her in time. “No, Talaith.”
“I’ll kill him.”
He rolled his eyes. He shouldn’t have slept in. By the time they made it downstairs to head back to his den, Izzy’s training had already started. Seeing her daughter trying to handle a shield and staff, only to get shoved into the ground over and over, was making his sweet Talaith much less than sweet.
“You can’t go over there, Talaith.”
“But he’s not even one of the trainers.”
True. They were probably trying to find out Izzy’s strengths before they figured out which class to send her to, so they’d teamed her up against one of the older boys. A youth with white blond hair and an almost permanent sneer. Someone who, Briec was guessing, his little Izzy had rejected or mocked. The boy seemed to find great pleasure in shoving Briec’s daughter in the dirt.
Annwyl, who’d been sitting on the fence watching the training, saw Talaith and immediately called a halt.
“Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith. Go say goodbye to your mother.”
Izzy dropped her shield and staff and ran over to the pair. For a girl who’d been eating dirt most of the morning, she looked surprisingly happy. Talaith would not be happy when she realized Izzy’s year would last much longer that that. Clearly the girl had found her true path.
“Good travels.” Izzy hugged and kissed her mother. “I’ll miss you both.” She stood on tiptoes to reach up and hug Briec, rewarding him with a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Izzy, are you sure—”
Izzy groaned and again hugged her mother. “You promised me a year, Mum.”
“All right. All right. Well, just remember, I’m only a thought away. You need me for anything, Morfyd can get in touch with me. We won’t be gone long.”
“Take your time. I’m sure you two need some time alone.” She winked at Talaith and he thought his poor mate would come out of her skin with embarrassment.
“Iseabail.”
Laughing, Izzy stepped back before her mother could cuff her on the head. “Only teasing.”
“Iseabail,” Annwyl called. “Return to the field.”
“I have to go. Have a safe trip.”
Izzy took one step away, but Talaith grabbed firm hold of her daughter’s arm. Briec groaned inward. He thought he’d finally convinced her this was the right course sometime after he’d made her come for the fourth time last night. He should have known better.
“Mum,” Izzy glanced over her shoulder at all those waiting for her return, “please.”
Talaith took a deep breath and said, “The boy you’re fighting. He’s weak on his left side. Take the little bastard out at the knee.”
Glancing at her mother then Briec, Izzy shrugged. “Uh, all right then.” She smiled. “I’ll do that.”
“Good. Now go and good luck.”
Izzy nodded and walked away. She was halfway back to the training field, when she turned around and ran over to her mother. She threw herself in Talaith’s arms, and Briec could hear her fierce whisper as she hugged her mother tight. “I love you, Mum.”
With that, she released Talaith and ran to the training field, immediately picking up her staff and shield to begin again.
Briec wrapped his arms around his woman’s body. He felt her regret,
but also her pride. Especially when Izzy faked out her opponent on his right, only to take out his left knee with her staff. He went down screaming.
“Let’s go before I yank her out of there.”
“Good idea.” He grabbed hold of her hand and walked toward the stables. It wasn’t until he passed the stables that she started fighting.
“Oh, gods. Not the flying!”
“I heard you mounted my sister well enough.”
“I want you never to make that statement again.”
“You don’t expect me to walk back to my den, do you?”
“But there are horses.”
“I have horses.”
“You do?”
“Of course I do. They’re one of my favorite meals.”
“Now you’re simply trying to irritate me beyond all reason.”
“Is it working?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then my work here is done.”
He made it to the clearing and quickly shifted, without bothering to remove his clothes, before Talaith tried to dart off. Good thing he was quick, too. His tail almost didn’t catch her in time.
Picking her up, he dropped her on his back. “Get comfortable, my love.”
“I hate you.”
“Keep that feeling, sweet Talaith. You’ll need it when I get you back to my den and take you again and again and again.”
“Just so we’re clear, dragon. You are one of my least favorite beings.”
He turned and looked at her over his shoulder. “But you do love me? Right, Talaith?”
She rewarded him with a warm, beautiful smile. And it was a reward. “Of course I love you. You mean the world to me, Briec.”
He smirked. “Well, of course I do. I’m Briec the Mighty.”
She snorted a laugh as she got comfortable on his back. “I walked right into that, didn’t I?”
“Aye, my sweet Talaith. You most certainly did. Like a brutal ambush on a snowy mountaintop.”
She cleared her throat. “You’ve actually done that, haven’t you?”
“Oh, I have. Want me to tell you about it?” Briec asked as he took to the skies.
“No!”
“Fine. You don’t have to be nasty about it. Are you going to be like this when we get home?”
“Yes. As a matter of fact, I am. I’m going to make your life a living hell.”
“What makes you think you haven’t already?”
“Maybe the way you moan my name, O’ Arrogant One.”
He soared by trees and Talaith didn’t even notice she was so busy arguing with him. Good. By the time he got her home, she’d be so wet and ready for him, they probably wouldn’t even make it to the bed.
“That’s not a moan, little witch. It’s more of a complaint.”
“Ha! You only dream of having control in this relationship, my love.”
“We’ll see who has control when I get you back and tie you to the bed.”
“You’ll have to catch me first, dragon. And I’m quite stealthy. It’s one of my skills.”
“I thought complaining and getting lost were your skills…ow! Don’t pull my hair.”
“Then you best make sure you don’t make me angry, Briec the Arrogant.”
Briec laughed. “And where would the fun be in that, my love?”
Epilogue
Gwenvael sighed in overwhelming boredom, his talons scraping along the rocky, snow-covered ground.
There were a thousand things he’d rather be involved in. But Annwyl had asked this favor of him and he couldn’t turn her down. Well, normally he could and would turn her down, but the woman had become a viper the longer her current “state” went on. Large with her Demon Twins, as Briec so eloquently put it, the past seven months had not been easy on any of them. Morfyd received the worst of it and Fearghus learned that there actually was too much fucking to be had. Apparently the human female had become absolutely insatiable and Fearghus was no longer safe walking down the blasted castle hallways or hunting in the surrounding forests. The woman stalked the poor dragon like an elk at High Season.
Gwenvael offered to assist Fearghus with his current “burden” and nearly lost his head in the process. Gods, his family never knew how to take a joke and until Annwyl birthed whatever grew in her belly she too would no longer be any fun.
So, when Gwenvael really thought about it, this was all probably for the best. A nice trek up to the Northlands and away from the Blood Queen.
True, he’d been into the Northlands many times before in the last few months, but never this far into the Mountains of Despair or this close to the Ocean of Death and the Sea of Pain and Suffering. Ah, yes, these barbarians had such pithy names for their landmarks.
Gwenvael could smell the fresh ocean air and he longed to dive in and swim far, far away from this place.
The Reinholdt Fortress. A dank, depressing place if he’d ever seen one, but the Northland barbarians weren’t known for their elegance. Even the local dragons—all descendents of the lightning gods and at one time his kinds’ mortal enemies—fought hard and lived harder.
It seemed to be the way of this cold, forsaken land and those who lived within it.
To stop the flow of depression threatening to overtake him, Gwenvael reminded himself he could be back at Garbhán Isles dodging another sword thrown at his head for some inconsequential thing he said.
Instead, he was here to meet the legedary Sigmar Reinholdt and his thirteen strong sons, one of whom everyone referred to as The Beast. According to local gossip, The Beast was the scariest thing on two legs and had built quite a name for himself. As Gwenvael traveled through the Northlands these many months, he often heard the name mumbled in whispers and even the women he bed with for the night refused to discuss the man—even when Gwenvael was at his most persuasive.
But that no longer mattered, because now he stood in front of the fortress, a line of Reinholdt troops the only thing between him and the gates inside the compound.
Gwenvael sighed again and barked, “I grow tired of waiting.”
“Dragons ain’t much for patience, is they?”
“No, they isn’t,” Gwenvael mocked back. Normally he tolerated humans—especially Annwyl—better than any of his kin, but he was tired, extremely hungry and bored. Bored being the worst of it. As his mother always said, “A bored Gwenvael is an entire town destroyed accidently.”
Many more minutes passed, until Gwenvael considered mowing them all down with his flames just to see them burn when a short, but powerfully built man pushed past the men guarding the entrance. Gods, the man had no neck to speak of. He went from head straight into his shoulders.
“I be Sigmar,” the human said as a form of greeting and Gwenvael worked hard not to laugh out loud. These Northerners made his father seem downright warm and cuddly.
“King Sigmar.” Gwenvael dipped his head, the most a human could ever expect from a dragon in way of respect—unless the human was female. Gwenvael had been known to roll on his back like a dog for the right female.
“I be no king, dragon. There are no kings in the Northlands. I’m The Reinholdt and clan leader of these lands.”
Whatever. “So you asked for me, Reinholdt.”
“No. I asked for your Annwyl.”
“Well, she’s indisposed at the moment, so she sent me as her emissary.”
“A dragon emissary for a human?”
One more second of this and Gwenvael had every intention of killing them all. “Aye.”
Reinholdt shrugged but said nothing else, preventing the potential carnage. The only problem was Reinholdt stopped speaking all together.
It took all of Gwenvael’s strength not to roll his eyes in annoyance. He wanted this over with so he could get some food, ale and a female or two to warm his bed for the night. Standing out in the cold was annoying him and the snow was freezing his scales. He hated that.
“Again, Reinholdt, you wanted to see me or someone from Dark Plains?”
/> “Nay. Not me, dragon. The Beast made that request.”
Patience, Gwenvael. You’re known for your patience. “And may I meet The Beast?”
Reinholdt passed glances among the other men before looking back at Gwenvael. “You sure about that, dragon?”
“Yes,” Gwenvael hissed. “I am.”
Reinholdt nodded and looked at the men lined up in front of the gates. As one, they separated into two lines and Gwenvael’s eyes widened as “The Beast” stepped forward from the throng of men and walked up to him.
Gwenvael stared down at the sight for several long seconds and then, unable to stop himself, he burst out laughing. He couldn’t help it.
This? This was The Beast? Terrifying scourge of the Northlands? Battle Lord and Destroyer? This?
“Something amuses you, dragon?”
Round pieces of glass held between a wire frame rested upon The Beast’s small nose and cold grey eyes stared at him. The pieces of glass slipped down a bit only to be pushed back by a well-placed finger.
“You?” Gwenvael managed between bouts of laughter. “You are The Beast?”
“That is what they call me.”
Gwenvael stared down at the tiny woman before him. Smaller than even Briec’s Talaith, there was nothing about this female that said warrior or assassin or witch or anything of any threat whatsoever. She wore a painfully plain, long-sleeved grey dress and fur boots. She had a small eating dagger attached to the girdle on her hips and waist-length brown hair tied into a plait.
The woman couldn’t be more plain or boring or uninteresting if she actually put effort into it. And Gwenvael couldn’t help it but he laughed harder. So hard he finally laid out on his back and rolled around for a bit, his dragon limbs flailing.
For months he’d heard about this female as a male and he didn’t half expect another Hamish or Annwyl’s brother, Lorcan. Or, at the very least, his mother.
Something dangerous and blood-covered. This woman looked like she never left the library.
After several minutes, Gwenvael somehow got himself under control. He stopped laughing but didn’t get back up because she stood right beside him. That impressed him. Most humans went out of their way to avoid him when he was in dragonform.