by G. A. Aiken
After several minutes of hearing nothing from the women, he looked at them over his shoulder. They’d stopped fighting long enough to stare at him as he dried his human body.
“Problem?” he asked.
“Damn, Gaius,” Izzy muttered, one side of her mouth quirked up in a surprised smile.
Gaius was about to smile back when he heard a sound he dreaded every time he was forced to come to the Southlands.
“Yoooo-hooooo!”
“Fuck,” he growled, his head dropping as she came out of the trees by the lake. She was stunning, as always. In her human form, wearing a dress made entirely of Eastland silk. Her red hair reached to the back of her knees and she, as always, wore no shoes.
She was Keita the Viper, one of the Dragon Queen’s daughters. Known worldwide for her beauty and her ability to successfully poison anyone who put the Dragon Queen’s throne at risk or got in the Princess’s way.
“King Gaius!” she greeted. She was, without a doubt, the most beautiful creature to walk these lands, whether in her natural form or as human.
But beauty was not enough. Not for anyone this annoying.
“Princess.”
“I was so happy to hear you were back! And guess what I have for you,” she teased, liquid brown eyes gazing up at him.
Gaius briefly closed his one eye. “An eye patch?”
“Yes! This time I went with a steel grey. To match your hair!” She held out the silk eye patch.
“I really don’t need—”
“Put it on,” she ordered, a threat implied in her flat tone. Then, just as quickly, the brilliant smile returned, the coquettish act back in place. “It will look so wonderful on you.”
Gaius didn’t understand the She-dragon’s obsession over eye patches and one-eyed dragons and humans, but he didn’t want to spend the rest of his time in the Southlands worrying about what he ate. It was never a good idea to piss off a well-known poisoner.
So, grudgingly, Gaius took the patch from her small hand and tied it around his head.
“Happy?” he asked.
She went up on tiptoes, stretching her arms out so that she could adjust the stupid thing accordingly. “There. Perfect. Just like me!”
She giggled and twirled away from him. He wanted to hit her.
“You know, King Gaius, with you visiting, an outside dignitary and all, we really should have a dinner in your honor with—”
“Dancing!” Izzy cheered. “There must be dancing!”
“Of course!”
Her queen and cousin quickly forgotten, Izzy ran back toward the castle. “I’ll get everything started!” she called out.
“I don’t need dancing,” Gaius informed Princess Keita.
“I know,” she replied coolly, her hand patting his bare chest. “I know.”
He watched her walk off. How the Northland chieftain, Ragnar of the Olgeirsson Horde, tolerated that wench as a mate, Gaius would never know.
Deciding not to worry about it, Gaius began to get dressed. He was pulling on his chain-mail shirt when he realized that the queen and her daughter were still standing there, staring at each other. They hadn’t said a word in all that time, so he’d forgotten about them completely.
But, with a nod to each other, they suddenly walked away together.
“Where are you two off to?” he asked.
“Training rink,” they replied as one.
“Huh,” Gaius said, before he shrugged it off and finished getting dressed.
Kachka caught the wood bow that her sister tossed to her as she made her way into the Great Hall.
“What’s this for?” Kachka asked.
“They are having dinner tonight in honor of your Iron.”
“He is not my Iron, Elina.”
“Whatever. The Cadwaladrs will be attending.”
“So they need more meat.”
“Exactly. Up for a hunt?”
Kachka was always “up for a hunt” so she didn’t bother to say as much and instead replied, “Need to eat first.”
Her sister nodded and they walked to the table. They’d barely gotten their seats before the other Riders arrived and began eating. The kitchen staff rushed to get more food on the table, especially once the other dragons came in.
They were mostly eating in silence until the gold dragon walked to the table. He seemed fine now, after his morning getting tossed around by the Iron King. “Greetings, my kin!” he happily announced, his Northland mate following behind him. “How are we all doing this beautiful morning?”
There were grunts from his sisters and abject silence from his brothers. But that had never stopped the Gold before.
“It is a beautiful day, isn’t it?” He stood behind Marina Aleksandrovna and reached over her to grab one of the warm loaves of bread from the table. Marina, as any Rider would expect, yanked the dagger from her belt and slammed it into the table, only missing the Gold’s human hand because dragons were quite fast.
The Gold held his hand against his chest and stared at Marina. “Woman, have you lost your mind?”
“Get own food,” Marina warned.
Tatyana rolled her eyes. “We discussed this,” she reminded them all. “In the Southlands you do not have to defend your food like a wolf defending its carcass.”
“He was still too close.”
Dagmar Reinholdt sat down at the table with a sigh. “It’s like eating with my brothers again.”
“At least your brothers have some manners!” Gwenvael walked around the table to find another seat and easier access to the food while Marina yanked her blade from the table and slid it back into her belt. The entire time, she never stopped eating.
Once seated, Gwenvael eyed Tatyana. “You dress like the other Riders, but your accent . . .”
“I’ve been trained in the ways of the Southlanders,” Tatyana explained. “I know many languages and the etiquette of many cultures. There are a few of us among the Riders. We relay information from the Anne Atli to those we—”
“Conquer?” Dagmar asked.
Tatyana smiled. “Of course not. We prefer the term—”
“Destroy,” Zoya volunteered.
Tatyana gritted her teeth before snapping, “Why are you here, Zoya Kolesova?”
“Because you need me!” she cheerfully replied.
“Like wolf needs fleas,” Nina Chechneva muttered.
Gaius walked into the hall. His hair was soaked and he wore a chain-mail shirt to go along with his grey leggings and brown boots. As human, he looked . . . exceptional. Why couldn’t he be human? Why a lizard? It was unfair.
“Ladies,” he greeted. Elina smiled up at him and Kachka kept eating.
Exceptional or not, he was still a spoiled royal who couldn’t have a few extra people in his bed.
“We have to go hunting because of you, royal,” Kachka accused.
The dragon snorted. “You don’t need a reason to go hunting, Rider. So don’t put that on me.”
He reached between two of the Southland royals, ignoring the glares as he did so, and grabbed a loaf of bread. “Before you two go, though, you may want to check out the training ring.”
“Are you suggesting my sister needs training?”
Elina’s head popped up. “Do not come at me. He did not say me.”
“Not you two. But Annwyl is in there with Talwyn, and I’m guessing that will be quite entertaining.”
The room had become horrifyingly silent, and the three of them froze, fingers moving toward their weapons, waiting for an attack at any time. When they finally looked at the others, the Southlanders were staring at them, mouths agape, eyes wide.
“What is happening?” Kachka asked her sister.
“I do not—” was all Elina got out before the Southlanders moved with such speed that all she, Elina, and Gaius could do was stand there and hope not to get knocked down in the stampede as the others charged for the door.
When all that was left were her sister, Gaius, and Dagmar Rei
nholdt, Dagmar sighed, pushed back her chair, and stood.
“Come on,” she barked at her dogs, which followed obediently behind her as she left the hall.
Gaius went back to eating his bread. “Well . . . that was interesting.”
Chapter Fourteen
Talan didn’t know how he’d ended up in the stables. The last thing he remembered was going to the local pub with his cousins and meeting up with some of the Riders....
Thankfully, he woke up fully dressed and none of the horses appeared traumatized. So he decided to assume that even drunk, he’d managed not to end up in a situation where he’d become one of the “husbands” of Zoya Kolesova’s—most likely—big-boned daughters.
Talan stood, paused, threw up in some hay, then stumbled out of the stable after patting a horse on his head.
He really shouldn’t try to keep up with his dragon cousins and the Riders. There were few who could outdrink that lot.
Making it past the stable doors¸ Talan immediately shielded his eyes from the bright light of the two suns and leaned up against the stable wall.
“Are you all right?” sweet Rhi asked, her arm slipping around his waist.
“Too much drink.”
“You must know better by now.”
“Apparently not.” He glanced at her. “What are you doing here?”
“I spent the night at Izzy’s house. You should have come with me.”
He was guessing Rhi was right.
“Come on,” she coaxed. “We’ll get you back to the main house. I’m sure Mum has something to help.”
Talan put his arm around Rhi’s shoulders and did his best not to put too much of his weight on her. Together, they headed toward the house until several of the Cadwaladrs ran past them.
“What’s going on?” Talan asked one of his younger cousins. He wasn’t armed at the moment, and if he needed to get Rhi to safety—
“Your sister and mum are in the training ring together!” his cousin replied before charging off after the others.
Mouth open, Talan and Rhi turned to each other. Then, hangover forgotten, the two ran toward the training ring. They pushed their way past their kin so that they were right up against the fence.
Loaves of crusty, fresh bread were passed around while their kin all silently watched in fascination. None of them doing anything to stop this. Not even his father.
“Are you just going to stand there?” Talan demanded of Fearghus.
“I learned long ago not to get between your mother and her prey.”
“Talwyn isn’t her prey! She’s her daughter! She’s your daughter!”
Fearghus shook his head. “Not when she’s in the training ring, she’s not.”
Disgusted with everyone, Talan started to go over the fence to put a stop to all this, but Briec and Gwenvael grabbed him and yanked him back.
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Briec said.
“Daddy!” Rhi quickly chastised.
“Sorry, love, but we have been waiting since that child’s birth to see this moment. Just let it play out.”
“Plus we already have gold on this,” Gwenvael stated. “You can’t stop it now.”
“You’re all horrible!”
“Shhhhh.”
Eyes wide, Talan focused on one of his favorite kin, shocked and disgusted all at the same time. “Auntie Morfyd?”
“Don’t hate me,” she pleaded in her sweet way. “But even you have to admit this has been a long time coming.”
Realizing that unless he wanted to fight all his kin—he didn’t—he’d have to wait this out, Talan turned back to the battle already raging inside the ring.
Talwyn was going after their mother with a shocking amount of power. An unnecessary amount, as far as Talan was concerned. Although she trained every day with two Kyvich witches and many of their fellow Abominations, Talwyn always held her true skill back.
Until now. Until she faced their very human mother.
Annwyl had a round shield that she held up as her daughter repeatedly brought down a sword and axe, hacking away at the wood with such brutality that Talan couldn’t believe that no one—absolutely no one—was stepping in to stop it.
Why? Why wasn’t anyone helping?
Even more frightening, where was his mother’s rage? If she ever needed it before in her life, it was right now, with her full-of-herself daughter!
But his mother seemed cool and calm under that badly damaged shield.
Why? What the hells was happening?
“Such easy money,” Gwenvael laughed.
Talan yanked his arm away from Gwenvael, ready to tell him where he had every intention of sticking that money when Gwenvael got it, when Annwyl finally raised one of her blades, blocking Talwyn’s sword.
Mother and daughter locked eyes and, in that moment, Annwyl used what was left of her shield to slam it into her daughter’s leg.
With a scream, Talwyn dropped to the ground and Annwyl got to her feet. She tossed the shield away and walked around her daughter, gazing down at her. Still no rage. No anger. But there was definitely something there, something Talan didn’t actually recognize.
As Annwyl blankly gazed at her daughter, she suddenly raised her leg, and brought it down hard.
Hard enough to crush Talwyn’s chest. But Talwyn blocked her mother with her arm and rolled away. She stood on one leg, the other unable to bear any weight. Talwyn still had her sword, though. And even on one leg, she was ready to fight.
She struck first, swinging her sword at Annwyl’s head, but Annwyl slipped out of the way with such speed that for a moment, Talwyn could do nothing but stare at the spot their mother had been standing in.
It wasn’t simply that Annwyl moved so quickly. She’d never been slow. But there was an . . . elegance to it that Talan had never seen in his mother. An elegance of movement.
He loved her, but even he had to admit she was a bit of a lumberer.
“Like elephants marching across the plains,” Morfyd had muttered more than once when Talan was growing up.
Annwyl ended up behind Talwyn, but Talwyn sensed her immediately and moved quickly to block the oncoming blow. Their blades clashed under the morning suns and held for a moment. The power of each female halting the other was palpable.
Until Annwyl kicked Talwyn, sending her only daughter flying halfway across the ring. She hit the fence near Talan, cracking the wood as her body made contact.
While his mother casually returned her sword to its sheath, Talan rushed to his sister’s side, crouching near her right. Rhi on her left.
“Good job,” he whispered to his twin. “Let her think she’s winning.”
That’s when Talwyn looked at him, dark eyes crazed behind all that black hair, bruises blossoming on her cheeks.
“You are letting her win . . . right? I mean, I know the blow to your leg was a lucky punch, but . . .”
With a roar of rage he hadn’t heard from his sibling in more than a decade, his sister pushed herself up until she was standing again on her one good leg.
Talan grabbed her sleeveless chain-mail shirt, but she batted him off and went after their mother.
“This is going to be awful,” Rhi said, almost in tears.
She was, as always, right.
Without weapons, Annwyl outmaneuvered every attempted attack by her daughter. She used her steel gauntlets and speed to block Talwyn’s blade, quickly disarming her after a few seconds. When Talwyn then struck at Annwyl with her fists, the queen blocked those blows too, and she didn’t even lose her breath.
Talwyn began to use Kyvich hand-to-hand techniques on their mother, but, again, the queen blocked them easily until she had both of Talwyn’s arms gripped in her hands. Then, by shifting her weight, she sent Talan’s twin flying into the far wall of the barracks adjoining the training ring.
Annwyl dusted off her hands and leggings, and said, “I expected you to be more advanced, Talwyn. We’ve got a war coming up. And you’re not ready.”
&n
bsp; Talwyn lifted her hands and drew runes of fire in the air, chanting words that allowed her to craft a spell against her own mother.
“Talwyn, no!” Rhi cried out.
Talan leaped over the fence and ran until he stood in front of his mother. He raised his hands and created a shield, but the power of Talwyn’s unleashed spell rammed into it, pushing Talan back into Annwyl. Her hands braced against his spine, keeping him upright and trapped in one space.
That alone shocked him beyond words. His mother shouldn’t be strong enough to keep him in place. No one should be strong enough to do that, considering the rage behind Talwyn’s rune spell.
Talan and Talwyn, of equal power, pushed against each other, their spells fighting for dominance.
“Stop it! Both of you!” Talan heard Rhi screaming. She didn’t want to unleash her power. Not with her cousins’ powers in combat. The combination of the three together . . .
But just when Talan was afraid nothing would control his sister’s wrath, the wind around them whipped up, sending dirt and stones from the ground into his eyes. Talan turned his head but kept his shield up.
“That is enough!” a voice bellowed before a line of flame lashed out, splitting at the end to tear into the spells of both Talan and Talwyn, until they were both forced to stop. Talan, because he was sent flipping back several feet. Talwyn because she simply didn’t have the strength to fight the onslaught.
When everything had stopped and Talan could see again, his eyes watering from the dirt still irritating him, it was his mother who held her position. Standing tall.
But it was the Dragon Queen who had stopped the whole thing.
“Have you all lost your minds?” Rhiannon the White demanded of her grand-offspring, standing regal in the clearing on the opposite side of the training ring. Her white scales fairly glowed under the sunslight and her wings flickered angrily as she glowered down at them.
Their grandfather, Bercelak, had landed on top of one of the barracks, overseeing all, but saying nothing. As a Cadwaladr, he’d never stop a fight. His main concern was the safety of Rhiannon.