by G. A. Aiken
“Why didn’t he marry you off? He could have forged an alliance with one of the bigger kingdoms.” Annwyl briefly thought of Lord Hamish of Madron Province and how close she came to being his bride. The thought chilled her.
“He tried. But the nobles kept changing their minds.”
“And did you help them with that?”
She held up her thumb and forefinger, a little bit apart.
“Just a little.”
For the first time, Morfyd smiled and Annwyl found herself warming up to the witch a bit. Annwyl pushed her nearly empty bowl away from her and drank more of the wine. It shocked her how well she ate. Shocked her that she still breathed.
“Make sure you finish off the wine. I have added herbs that will heal you and stave off infection.”
Annwyl stared warily into her wine chalice. “What kind of herbs?”
Morfyd shrugged as she stood, picking up Annwyl’s empty bowl. “Lots of different ones. It’s my own potion. It works quite well. It can also heal rashes and gout. And prevent a woman from becoming with child. But I guess that doesn’t matter to you.”
Annwyl glanced up from her wine. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re a virgin.”
Annwyl froze. That couldn’t be just an assumption. She’d lived with a male army for well over two years; everyone assumed she’d lost her virginity ages ago.
“How did you . . . know that?”
“He told me.”
Annwyl knew the witch meant the dragon, and that’s when the fury built up in her chest. A fury she never could control. “Dragon!” She bellowed his name so loudly, Morfyd stumbled back away from her.
The ground shook as the dragon returned to her. “What? What is it?”
Annwyl forced herself to her feet, her hand against her recent wound. “How did you know? And tell me true.”
“Know what?” He looked at Morfyd who shrugged and quickly left. Almost ran.
“That I was a virgin. No one knows that. How did you?” She had no idea how long her deep sleep held her. Unable to protect herself. Unable to stop someone from . . . she shook her head. She couldn’t bear to even think it.
“This is why you demand my presence? Because I know your deep, dark secret?”
“Not that you know. But how you know.”
He lowered his head until they were eye to eye. But Annwyl, too angry for logic, did not flinch or back away. Considering his head was the length of her body and she towered over most men, she probably should have. Instead she let her anger wash over her. Just as she always had. “Well? Answer me!”
His black eyes narrowed at her angry shout, and his nostrils flared. “I can smell it on you.”
Annwyl reared back from the dragon. “What?”
“I can smell it on you. That no man has been with you. That your maidenhead is still intact. That you, beautiful one, are a virgin.”
Annwyl looked at the dragon in horror, her voice no more than a whisper. “Really? You can smell that on me?”
“No,” he responded flatly. “But you are quite chatty in your sleep.”
She rolled her eyes. “You tricky . . .” Her anger fled as quickly as it came. She leaned against the table, her strength waning.
“So, did you think I somehow took advantage of you while you slept?”
“Well. . . .” Annwyl flinched as one talon tapped impatiently on the stone floor awaiting her answer. “The thought had crossed my mind.” She lowered herself into one of the other chairs surrounding the table, too weak to stand any longer. “I’m sorry. I know only what I learned from my brother . . . and he would have checked.”
The great beast sighed. “I have heard tales of your brother. You do realize he should have been killed at birth?”
Annwyl smiled. “If only.” She looked across the cave floor to the bed. It looked so far away and her body was still so weak.
“Here.” He lowered his claw and opened it. Black talons as long as her leg glistened at Annwyl.
“You must be mad.”
“How did you think you got in here?”
“Yes, but . . .” There she went again. Treating him as an animal when, in the little time she’d known him, he’d treated her with more respect than any man she’d met at her brother’s castle.
She pushed herself up and took the two steps to his outstretched claw. With force of will she didn’t know she possessed she stepped onto it, pushing out the vision she had of him shoving her into his mouth like a piece of steak. He lifted her up, gently moving his forearm until he had reached the bed. He carefully lowered her onto the fur coverings.
“Now, let’s try not to have any more fits of anger until you get more of your strength back.”
Annwyl laughed. “As you wish.”
She sat down on the bed, her long legs hanging over the side. She watched his body leave the cavern. His long tail following behind. But Annwyl wondered if it had a will of its own as it whipped out and wrapped itself around her leg. For a brief moment she worried it might drag her across the room. But instead it caressed her leg, the ebony scales rubbing against her calf. Then it released her and disappeared with the dragon that wielded it.
Long after he’d gone and she slid herself back under the fur covers, Annwyl still felt where he’d touched her leg. And she wondered what insanity had begun to take over her normally sensible mind.
Lorcan of Garbhán Isle stared out over his battlements, watching the two suns lower in the west, and wondered how his sister kept slipping from his grasp.
No matter what he did or what he tried, she just wouldn’t die. And the longer she lived, the more men she killed. His men. His troops. The number of headless bodies with her name carved on their chest rivaled even his own. Of course, his took thirty-one years to achieve. She’d accumulated hers in little over two.
He wished now he’d killed her when he had the chance. She was ten, he just fourteen. She had just arrived, sleeping soundly in her new bed. He held the pillow in his hands. He knew he could smother her, and no one would ever know. But she woke up, looked at him, and flew into a blinding rage. Which he returned. His father found the two of them rolling around on the floor trying to choke each other. The man had not been pleased and he made them pay for waking him out of a sound sleep.
Lorcan winced, remembering the brutality of the beating they both received. What gave him small satisfaction was that he’d expected the beating. His bastard sister apparently lived a simple life in her poor village and received little or no discipline. Her reaction to her punishment... well, truly reward enough for him.
He didn’t know one could hate someone as much as he hated this girl. But she continued to make a fool of him. There were several surrounding kingdoms that gave her campaign gold and troops in the hopes she would do what they could not. Kill him. Take his throne.
He’d see her head on a spike outside his castle walls first. And he now had the perfect ally to assist him.
He never much liked witches. Didn’t like the idea of such weak beings as females having that kind of power that they probably could not control. But he tolerated sorcerers well enough. And Hefaidd-Hen was just what he needed. Pay him well and Hefaidd-Hen would hand you the world. He’d proven himself over and over the few months they’d been allies. Although he still hadn’t captured his sister.
Lorcan heard the moan of the soldier pinned to the floor beneath his boot. With a sneer, he pushed his foot down harder on his neck. The worthless little bastard had failed him. He’d come back without the bitch.
He glanced over his shoulder at his lieutenants. They watched him, trying their best to hide their fear. But he could smell it. He looked back at the lowering suns. “I want my sister.” He growled the words low. “I want my sister!” He slammed his foot down, snapping the man’s neck and crushing his jaw. “Now get out of my sight!”
He heard them run from the room.
They better run.
He would have his sister. He would se
e the bitch dead if he had to destroy half the world to get to her.
“Well, I see now why the women in the village avoid her. She’s crazy.”
Fearghus the Destroyer settled his enormous bulk near his lair’s underground lake. “She’s not crazy, little sister. She’s angry.”
Morfyd settled against a rock opposite her brother, wrapping her cloak tightly around her body. Her human form was constantly cold, constantly shivering. And yet, she lived freely among the humans. They all believed her to be human. Merely a powerful witch and healer. Even as Annwyl’s brother ordered her face sliced open during the early days of his reign, she stayed human. Fearghus could simply never understand why.
But for the first time, Fearghus needed to call on his sister as a human. His power could only keep Annwyl alive for a short time. Morfyd and her ancient dragon Magicks actually healed the girl by mending her damaged organs. And as a human female, she could comfortably tend to the girl’s needs.
Morfyd nodded. “From what I’ve heard she has much to be angry about. It’s a well-known fact that her father was a tyrant and her brother hated her from the day she appeared.”
“Do you know why?” Fearghus found himself becoming obsessively fascinated with the girl.
“I know they don’t have the same mother. Annwyl’s mother never married her father. You know how important that is to these humans. And Lorcan never let her forget that she was a bastard. A poor bastard, no less, from some little village east of Kerezik.”
“Can she be trusted?”
Morfyd shrugged. “Her men are loyal to her. And as much as the village women avoid her they do respect her. They trust their men’s lives with her. But whether we can trust her? That I do not know, brother. She’s still human.”
Fearghus, too, wasn’t sure he could trust Annwyl. Dragons possessed powers that far outweighed most creatures. But these powers, like their ability to use flame or to shift to human, kept them alive. Humans were a treacherous and dangerous lot and made killing one of his kind as some sort of rite of passage. No. His brethren relied on secrecy.He couldn’t and wouldn’t betray that to a girl he knew nothing about. Just bringing her to his lair was a dangerous risk he normally would never take. There were very few who knew a dragon lived in Dark Glen. And those who stumbled upon him in the past he quickly silenced.But that hadn’t been an option for Annwyl. She really did fascinate him, just as he said. Her bravery. Her strength. Her beauty. And she was beautiful. Tall. Strong. Brown hair with golden streaks that reached down past the waist of her lean body.
“I’m still impressed she challenged you like that,” his sister continued. “Although it could just be more proof that she’s mad.”
Fearghus heard her, but barely. His mind busy recalling when he first found Annwyl. He shifted to human to easily remove her armor and get at her wound. He remembered how quickly and strongly his human body reacted to the sight of her. Naked, pale, and covered in her own blood, there was something about her that called to him. As he chanted the spell that would keep her alive until Morfyd arrived, she watched him with the darkest green eyes he’d ever seen. Over the subsequent days, while he cared for her, he kept seeing those eyes in his dreams. That long, lean body covered in many battle scars there as well.
Without even trying, the girl trapped his attention and he couldn’t stop thinking about her, which was unusual. Quite a few females had graced his life over the more than two hundred years he existed. All of them beautiful and cultured. Some human and some dragon. But none entranced him like this tiny girl. How tall was she anyway? Maybe six feet? He smiled; only his people would call her “tiny.”
A small fireball hit him in the face. He again looked at his sister, smoke still curling out from her human nostrils.
“What, brat?”
“I said she’ll want to return to her men as soon as she can.”
“I know.”
His sister smiled up at him. “And will you be ready for that, idiot?”
“It’s Lord Idiot to you.” Fearghus rested his head on his crossed forearms. “And yes, brat. I will be.”
No matter how beautiful Annwyl was to him, he wouldn’t get involved with some human girl. He would simply let her heal, then send her back to her people. And that would be the end of that.
Chapter 3
Annwyl dreamed again. Ever since that bastard’s sword impaled her, the same dream returned to her over and over again. Of a beautiful man with long black hair and dark brown eyes. Tall, powerful, and strong of body. Standing over her, he would wipe her brow and softly whisper that she would live. And once, in her favorite dream, he’d kissed her. The softest, sweetest kiss she’d ever received.
And every time she woke up and found him not there, the same twinge of regret tightened her chest and made her body ache. The same twinge of longing racked her waking hours.
Long ago Annwyl gave up hope that she’d ever find a man she could love and respect. The warriors at her brother’s castle were brutish, rude, and often brainless. By the time she escaped and went on to lead her army, she’d become almost dead inside. Over the two years she led the rebellion a few of her men showed her some interest . . . until something made her angry. Then they all seemed to drift away. Unlike the dragon. He didn’t shrink from her rage. He appeared to enjoy it. Greatly.
The strange way of man and beast. It never failed to confuse her.
She wondered where she’d created this dream lover from. Had she ever seen the man before? Perhaps in one of the towns or villages that aided her troops? Or perhaps she created him from her own imagination. She knew not. But lately she’d begun to regret having to wake up.
He sat on the edge of the bed and stared at her, as he always did. He stroked her face with his large, strong hand. She sighed contentedly and smiled. He returned it with a smile of his own. Annwyl felt bold in this dream world. Brazen. She reached out a hand and slid it around the back of his neck, drawing him down for a kiss. She liked this dream lover, he didn’t resist her. Instead he let her lead him. When their lips met, her whole body responded. Intense heat from his body licked over her flesh. Her nipples tightened and grew hard, begging for the touch of those strong hands of his. Heat and moisture pulsed between her legs. She experienced things she never felt before. And she wanted more.
His tongue licked across her lips and she instinctively opened her mouth to let him in. She moaned as his tongue slid across and around hers, and her body arched as she tried to get closer to him. She wanted her dream lover. In her bed. In her.
But he pulled away from her. She grasped for him . . . and found herself face down on the floor. Again.
“By all that’s . . .” She pushed herself up as Morfyd hurried to her side.
“By the gods, lass. Are you all right?”
“Yes. Yes.” She took Morfyd’s arm and allowed the woman to help her sit back on the bed. “I’m fine.” She couldn’t keep ending up on the floor. Now it was just getting embarrassing.
“You should leave her there. She looks adorable. Like a puppy.”
Annwyl turned narrowed eyes on her dragon rescuer as he sat by the entrance to this part of his lair. “Quiet, dragon,” she warned playfully. She’d become used to the dragon lingering near her. Teasing her. In fact, she found she started to like it. To like him.
Morfyd examined her wound, already less painful then it was the previous day. “Why do I keep finding you on the floor,” Morfyd asked with a slight mixture of annoyance and humor.
“I keep having this dream about a man. . . .” Remembering they were not alone, Annwyl stopped. She cleared her throat. “Uh . . . it’s nothing though.” Morfyd only glanced at her, then she turned two suddenly angry eyes on the dragon. Annwyl watched as the dragon looked up at the ceiling. Perhaps examining it for cracks.
“So, how long before I can return to my men?”
“Well—” was all Morfyd got out before the dragon cut her off.
“We need to make sure you’re well first.
Wouldn’t want you to get caught in a battle still weak.”
Annwyl shrugged. “That’s fine. I just worry about my men. They need to know I’m alive. I don’t want them to . . .”
“Give up hope?” Morfyd gently asked as she cleaned off the wound and placed another bandage over it.
“Aye. I can’t desert them now.”
“You’re not. And I doubt they will give up hope.” Morfyd straightened up. “But I will see what I can do.”
“Thank you.”
“I’ll bring you some food.” Morfyd left, punching the dragon in his side as she walked past him. Had the witch gone mad? Did she not see his fangs?
“Tell me, dragon, do you have anything to read?”
“Read?”
“Yes. Does your kind read?”
“Of course we read!”
“Don’t yell.”
The dragon growled at her and she fought her smile.
“Come on then.” He headed off deep into his lair. Annwyl wrapped the fur covering tight around her naked body and followed.
* * *
Definitely one of the stupidest things he’d ever done. He really couldn’t believe he was doing it. He turned a corner and led her to the right. He could have just brought her some books. Dropped them right into her lap. Instead he led her here. He led a human to his treasure. What the hell am I thinking?
He reached the entrance and stepped in. She stopped dead in her tracks and waited.
Fearghus didn’t say anything. He wanted to see her reaction. She didn’t speak for several moments. Then, “I’m freezing me tits off. Where are the books?”
Fearghus blinked. “‘I’m freezing me tits off,’” he mimicked back to her.
Annwyl shrugged. “I’ve been with my troops for over two years now,” she muttered as if that explained everything.
Fearghus motioned to a corner of the room. “The books are over there.” He watched her clamber over gold, jewels, and the other riches he’d claimed over many, many years. She reached the books and examined them closely.