The Blacksmith Queen

by Aiken G. A.

  “Keeley . . . this wasn’t your fault.”

  She shrugged, her gaze still locked on some far-off space. “I did unleash him, but I didn’t put him there. And I didn’t make him mad.”

  “If you know that then why are you gazing despondently into the distance?”

  “I’m not despondent, I’m thinking. It’s just something you said.”

  “Before or after the dragon brought up that volcano?”

  “Before. You said he was not a fire breather.”

  “Yes. That’s right.”

  “So there are others like that one? The dragon we faced today. But that breathe fire?”

  “Well . . . not exactly like him. He’s kind of small.”

  “What?”

  “Based on what we’ve learned from our cousins, the Dark Plains centaurs, there are all kinds of dragons, in all kinds of very large sizes. From what I understand there are no truly small dragons. Just small for a dragon.”

  “Tell me you’re joking.”

  “The Dark Plains dragons are a well-organized, lethal, family-based group of giant beings with sharp tails and horns on their heads. The one we dealt with was a volcano dragon but there are others.”

  “Others?”

  “Some breathe fire. Some lightning. Some sand. I’ve also heard about acid—”

  “Acid?”

  “I believe those are rare, though.”

  “Oh,” she said, closing her eyes. “How nice. And what else?”

  “They have armies.”

  “Not just one army but armies. As in plural?”

  “Well, you need to understand that there are dragons all over that side of the world. And they don’t all get along. The sand dragons are ruled by a king in the Desert Lands. The fire breathers and volcano dragons are ruled by the Dragon Queen.”

  “There’s a Dragon Queen?”

  “Of course there’s a Dragon Queen. But there are also Northland dragons—”

  “Northland dragons?”

  “The Lightnings. They’re actually very interesting.”

  Her gaze flickered over to him. “Are they?”

  “Yes. At one time they lived in hordes.”

  “Hordes? There are hordes of these things?”

  “Uh-huh. Small, clannish groups made mostly of sons, nephews, and brothers of their leaders. Although I’ve heard that they now have one leader for all the Northland dragons but I have no idea who that is or what that title is. I just know it’s a male.”

  “Fascinating.”

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, pouring them each some ale in their travel cups. “I thought you’d find all this very interesting.”

  “Interesting, yes. But how am I supposed to fight them?”

  Shocked by Keeley’s response, Caid accidentally poured some ale onto the blanket. He quickly put the stopper in.

  “Why in the world would you even think about fighting the dragons?”

  Keeley stood and began pacing. “What if we have no choice?”

  “Gods, you’re not planning a strike on them, are you? Tell me you’re not planning a strike.”

  She spun around to face him, her eyes wide. “Why in the hells would you ask me that?”

  Confused, he pointed out, “Because you specifically asked how you could fight them. You’d only have to fight them if you struck first.”

  “Not necessarily.”

  Still confused, he asked, “What are you talking about?”

  “Beatrix already has an alliance with the elves.”

  “Yes, Laila told me.”

  “But not only that; she’s made deals with the Dowager Queen and Prince Marius. For all we know, she’s done the same with the Dark Plains dragons, allowing them to run roughshod over the Hill Lands.” Keeley scowled. “What is so funny?”

  “That you’d think the dragons would need to run roughshod over anything. They could have come to our territories anytime they wanted over the centuries, but they haven’t bothered. Because they’re too busy fighting each other and the humans right in front of them. And none of that has changed in eons. I doubt it will change now. Even for your very ambitious little sister.”

  “But she seems to have a way. With everyone.”

  “Not with the dragons.”

  “But how do you know—”

  “Keeley . . . they eat humans.”

  Keeley froze. “What?” she finally asked.

  “They eat people. You saw what that dragon did to some of those elves.”

  “He was fighting for his life.”

  “No. If he was doing that, he would have just used his tail. Or one of his spells. He was a mage. He ate them because he was hungry. Humans, to the dragons, are nothing but two-legged cattle. They’re a staple of their diet. So unless your sister is willing to hand her power over to a force much more deadly than she is—and, based on what I’ve heard from others, even more insane than your uncle Archie—I doubt she’ll attempt to get the dragons on her side, much less manage to do so. You know, without becoming a scrumptious appetizer in the process.”

  “So I have no reason to panic?”

  “Not about that, no.”

  * * *

  “What does that mean?” Keeley demanded, not appreciating when Caid began laughing at her. Again.

  “Can I make a suggestion?” he asked.

  “Fine. Make a suggestion.”

  “Relax. For the night. Please.”

  Caid was right, of course. There was nothing she could do this night. And she’d had an exhausting and weird day. She might as well eat and get some sleep. She could panic about dragons and her sister and everything else in the morning.

  Keeley sat down next to Caid, their shoulders touching. He handed her a piece of bread and she gratefully accepted it. She hadn’t realized until now how hungry she was.

  “Those centaur travelers we met on the road . . .”

  He nodded. “What about them?”

  “They said Straton had attacked a town. Another town that sounds like mine.”

  “He didn’t burn it down at least.”

  “Yes, thankfully. But all those people trapped there now. I don’t even want to think about what’s happening to the women—”

  “Then don’t. Don’t think about that right now.”

  “You’re right, of course. It’s not like I can help at this moment.”

  “Exactly.”

  Keeley ate a piece of cheese. “Do you think I need a castle?”

  “What now?”

  “That’s why Straton raided that town. So he could have a base of operations for his army. I don’t have a base of operations. I can’t wander the land picking up troops as I go along.”

  “That’s how the Daughters of the Steppes do it.”

  “The what?”

  “Never mind.” He took a breath. “Are you planning to raid a town to take it over?”

  “Of course not! I’d never do that.”

  “Exactly. So why are we even discussing this? Now?”

  “Yes, yes. You’re right. I’ll just relax and eat.”

  “Good.”

  Keeley sipped the ale Caid had poured for her earlier. “Think I’ll have to buy my army?” When Caid stared at her, she added, “I can’t expect the dwarves to do all the fighting for me. I’ll be leading humans, so I’ll need humans to fight for my cause.”

  “I don’t disagree,” Caid said slowly, speaking around the food he had in his mouth. “I’m just not sure why you’re worrying about that now.”

  “Excellent point,” she agreed. “I just need to relax.”

  “Yes. Relax.”

  “Take the night off!”

  “Take the night off.”

  Keeley leaned back against the tree and ate more of the food Caid had provided.

  “Maybe,” she began, “we should see the barbarians before we head back to the dwarves. What do you—”

  “You really can’t relax, can you?” Caid demanded, gawking at her.

>   “I have a lot on my mind,” she argued.

  “You’re going to make yourself sick. My grandfather had what a healer called a hole in his stomach. She said it was from all the worry he had. It was like he was being eaten from the inside out. You don’t want that, do you?”

  “No! Why would you tell me that story? Now I’m going to worry that I’m going to get a hole in my stomach.”

  “You need to find ways to distract yourself.”

  “But I don’t have a forge.”

  “What?” Caid asked on a laugh.

  “That’s how I relax. I go to my forge and work. But, at the moment, I don’t have that.” She leaned forward, tried to look through the trees. “Unless there’s a forge around here that you know about?”

  “Keeley . . . I don’t even know how to respond to that.”

  “I thought you knew this area.”

  “Keeley.”

  “Fine. Forget it.” She leaned back but one of them must have moved because she was now half on Caid’s shoulder and left side. “Is your kilt magickal?”

  The ale Caid had been drinking suddenly sprayed across the ground. “What?”

  “Is it magickal? It turns into a bridle when you shift to centaur.”

  “I am centaur. I shift to human. And yes, there is a bit of spell-enhancement involved in the making of our kilts.”

  “Interesting.”

  “Is it?”

  “It is. I work with leather, but I never thought about enhancing it with spells to make it better.”

  “Not sure you can. We have witches and mages who work with our armorer.”

  “Oh. I see. I don’t have magick skills.” She snapped her fingers. “But Gemma does!”

  “She’s a War Monk. Her skills are limited and she’s only to use them in battle.”

  Keeley frowned. “How do you know all that?”

  “I looked into being a War Monk when I was younger.”

  “Oh.”

  “But the thought of human men telling me what to do set my teeth on edge, so . . . you know . . .”

  “As a human woman, I have to admit, I feel the same way.”

  * * *

  Cross-legged beside him, Keeley picked up the bottom of his kilt and felt the material. “This is really excellent workmanship.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Did you make this?”

  “No.”

  “That’s disappointing.”

  “Not for me.”

  Instead of verbally responding, Keeley just looked up at him and briefly flicked her hands into the air and sucked her tongue against her teeth, letting him know she was now disappointed with his response.

  The slight physical move and expression on her face made Caid laugh. Keeley always made him laugh. Always made him . . . comfortable. There weren’t many who did. He did fine around his family but strangers bothered him. He hated chatting. Hated idiotic conversations about nothing, but not as much as he hated conversations about what some random being thought was important. Honestly, Caid was most happy when he was by himself, in an open field with horses. Not centaurs, but actual horses, because they didn’t bore him with constant conversation either.

  Keeley was the only being he could think of whose conversation didn’t make him homicidal. Even when she was panicking, pacing and prattling on, he didn’t want to get away from her. Instead, he wanted to help. To calm her down. Even if calming her down meant letting her prattle on and on until she’d worn herself out.

  It was a price he was willing to pay. For her.

  Keeley finished examining his kilt, released it, and put her hands in her lap. She looked at him then.

  “What?” she asked when she saw his face.

  He didn’t know what to say to her. Didn’t even know how to begin. So he said nothing. Silence had always been his friend; he’d assume the same thing now. It was safer.

  Safer to keep his mouth shut. Safer not to say what he was thinking and feeling. Safer not to push too hard and lose everything.

  But he should have remembered . . . Keeley never played it safe. She never did anything that anyone expected. That’s what would make her such a powerful queen one day.

  One moment she was gazing at him, and the next . . .

  Her lips touched his. Soft. Gentle. Hesitant. No doubt she hadn’t forgotten his earlier reaction to an innocent request. She was probably worried he’d push her away this time too; assume she was just another human female wanting to “try out” a centaur. But he knew now that wasn’t Keeley. She didn’t see any being as something that was simply for her own entertainment. An object to be used. If Keeley was kissing him, it was because she truly desired him. Caid.

  Wanting to show her that the interest was mutual, he slid a hand behind her neck. Tugged her in closer; pressed his lips harder.

  It happened all at once then. Their mutual desire exploded. It was all so fluid, Caid didn’t even know when it happened. Sitting next to each other; calmly chatting. Then they were on their knees and facing each other. Hands on each other. Caid with his hands dug into Keeley’s hair; Keeley with her hands on his shoulders and neck.

  They seemed to open their mouths at the same time and their tongues touched, played. Their breaths mingled and Keeley groaned. Caid felt it as much as heard it. It went up his spine, spread to his shoulders, down his arms, and out his fingertips.

  Keeley abruptly pulled out of their kiss.

  “What?” he asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She looked to her left. “Go,” she ordered . . . the air? Who was she talking to?

  Then he saw them. They appeared from behind the other trees that surrounded them, their flame eyes watching Keeley and Caid. As they all trotted off, the leader moved the slowest, his glare for Caid and Caid alone.

  Once the wolves had left them, Keeley leaned back and pulled her chainmail shirt up and over her head, tossing it aside. Caid did the same and once he cleared his chainmail away from his face, he saw that Keeley already had her breast bindings off.

  She leaned in again, sliding her arms around his neck. Caid gripped her waist, pulled her in close so her breasts were flush against his chest. They kissed again, this time even more urgently.

  Knowing that Keeley wanted him as much as he wanted her made Caid unbelievably hard, his cock pressing against her, the kilt barely keeping them apart.

  He moved in closer and they somehow slipped, Keeley falling back; Caid going with her. When they landed, they were both laughing, but they still held each other tight. In fact, the laughter only made it better. More relaxed. More perfect, if that were possible.

  “We need to get you a kilt,” Caid complained as he tried to pull down her leggings with one hand while still holding her with the other. “This is taking too long.”

  Keeley silently agreed by moving his hand away and pulling her legs into her chest. She lifted her hips and brought the leggings down as far as her arm could reach. Then she tried to push them off the rest of the way by moving her feet and legs.

  Caid grabbed the chainmail and tugged it off one foot. But he didn’t get it the rest of the way because Keeley was already pulling him back on top of her.

  They were kissing again and he didn’t even know when it happened. It was just so natural, it all seemed to flow seamlessly.

  So when Caid entered her, his cock pressing into her, Keeley was ready for him. Her hips lifted and her muscles pulled him in deep.

  Her pussy was hot and wet and her groans against his ear nearly too much for him.

  One leg wrapped around his waist, but the other was weighed down by the chainmail still hanging from her foot. That chainmail scratched the back of his leg, teasing him.

  Her hands gripped his back; nails digging into his flesh, urging him on.

  Caid rocked into her, his lips pressed against the side of her neck. He dug his hands into her hair and just enjoyed the feel of her. The sounds she made. The way she made him feel.

  Keeley’s enti
re body tightened around him, gripping him. Unwilling to release him. A climax shuddering through her that was so strong it took him with her when her pussy clenched onto his cock and squeezed everything out of him.

  His own climax wiped his mind clean and had him shaking and panting, staring down at the human woman he’d just lost his heart to.

  * * *

  Keeley kept her eyes closed. Not wanting this moment ruined by that expression men often got after sex. That look that said, “That was great, luv. Thanks,” before they rode off to another war or to meet up with their regiment. She didn’t want to see that same expression on Caid’s face. Not Caid’s.

  So she kept her eyes closed and just enjoyed how she felt, which was very good. She felt very good.

  But Caid didn’t leave. He didn’t give her a friendly punch on the shoulder and walk away. He just curled his arms around her and rolled to his back, bringing her with him.

  He let out what sounded—and felt—like a happy sigh, holding her against his big chest.

  “I’m still wearing my kilt,” he finally said.

  “Yes, you are. And if I hadn’t mentioned it before . . . I’ve become a big fan of the kilt.”

  CHAPTER 26

  Caid woke up the next morning with his arms around Keeley, the pair facing each other as they slept, and his brother staring down at them.

  “What are you doing?” Caid whispered desperately, not wanting Keeley to wake up and find Mad Quinn of the Scarred Earth Clan glaring down at her.

  “I’m wondering what you’re doing,” Quinn whispered back.

  “What does it look like? Now fuck off!”

  “I can tell you it doesn’t look right, Brother. Not right at all.”

  Assuming his brother was talking about Keeley, Caid was about to get up and beat the bastard into the ground with his front hooves, until he felt something resting against his hip. Something . . . furry.

  He glared down at the wolf sleeping on him like he was nothing but a pillow. He growled at the lead demon wolf and one lid opened, its flame-covered orb gazing at him.

  “Fuck off,” he whispered at the beast, but it ignored him. He attempted to slap the demon away but Caid nearly got his hand snapped off.

  “Keeley,” he finally said.

  “Hhhm?”

  “Keeley.”

  Startled, she sat up and threw her sword. Quinn barely ducked in time, the weapon impaling a tree right behind him.