by G. A. Aiken
Zoya dropped the girl to the ground and they all watched her tumble down the stairs, rolling head over ass.
“So,” Zoya asked, forgetting the child since she could no longer have her as a pet, “where are others?”
“At some pub in town. Head north . . . that way.” Kachka pointed.
“A pub, eh? They must be celebrating my amazing recovery!”
“Are you going to join them, Zoya?” the dragon asked.
“No. I have something else to do first.” She patted the travel bag strapped across her shoulders. “But do not worry, Kachka Shestakova. When you are ready to leave, I will be by your side.”
“Oh . . . yay.”
Zoya walked off and Kachka crossed her eyes at the dragon. “How can anyone be that . . .”
“Oblivious?”
“You didn’t even try to help me!” the little girl snapped as she got to her feet. “And look at my dress. It’s filthy! I will have you executed!”
“Go!” Kachka ordered her. “Before I have you skinned and gutted like that bear we will have for dinner.”
The child screeched and stormed off, up the stairs and into the Great Hall.
“It seems . . . unwise to make that one an enemy,” the king noted in that sensible tone of his.
“She is child.”
“Child today. The beast that rules these halls tomorrow. If she has her way.”
“I would kill her myself before I let that happen. Now come.” She studied his face. “You need rest.”
“Are you taking care of me, Kachka Shestakova?”
“Someone has to. The male dragons here will ignore you. Dagmar Reinholdt will try to use you. And Annwyl the Bloody will try to take your head. So come,” she said again, grabbing his arm and helping him to his feet. “Let’s get you some sleep. Just few hours.”
Kachka led him into the Great Hall even as Gaius protested, “I think they made a room for me in the building where they put visitors.”
“The rooms here are giant. I could put most of Zoya’s big-legged and big-armed sisters in the queen’s chamber and I doubt the queen would lose her giant bed. Why these Southlanders waste so much space I will never know. Now come.”
Kachka led Gaius to her way-too-big bedroom. With a yawn, he sat down, rubbing his hands across his face and neck.
“Are you sure you are all right?” she felt the need to ask. She reached over and gently stroked the marks still on his neck from the torc.
“I’m fine. Because I’m breathing. And that’s thanks to you.”
Kachka folded her arms across her chest. “That is thanks to me. And yet I still do not have your kingdom.”
“You have my everlasting loyalty.”
“The loyalty of a one-eyed rebel king who is allied with two mad queens?” She shrugged. “I could definitely do worse.”
They smiled at each other just as the bedroom door swung open. Kachka, her hand on the hilt of her sword, turned at her waist and looked at Celyn. “What?” she asked when he just stared at her.
“Everything all right?” he asked, dark eyes moving back and forth between Kachka and the king.
“Well,” the king replied, “she is being rather difficult.”
Kachka faced Gaius. “I am difficult?”
“I have needs and you’re not fulfilling them.”
“Why aren’t you fulfilling them?” Celyn wanted to know. He was new to his job as . . . something or other for the Dragon Queen. Kachka didn’t know or care. But, like her, he had much to prove.
Which made him easy prey for the Iron dragon . . . and for Kachka.
“You want me to help him?” Kachka asked the young dragon, Celyn. The only thing Gaius knew about him was that he was a Cadwaladr and that his father was the wonderful Bram the Merciful. Unfortunately, Celyn’s mother was Ghleanna the Decimator. A true Cadwaladr was that one.
“Would it kill you to do something for our queens?”
“So I should fuck him?” Kachka asked, forcing Gaius to quickly look away before he started laughing.
“Wait . . . what?”
“That is why royal dragon complains. Because I will not fuck him to sleep. Are you saying I should fuck him to sleep?”
Now this would be where Bram the Merciful would smoothly extricate himself from the situation, probably removing Kachka with him. But the dragon was young and untrained.
“You couldn’t help him out a little?” the young dragon asked.
Gaius quickly dropped his head lower.
“He has hand.”
And now Kachka was not helping!
“But did you have to make him angry when you rejected him?”
“No. But it amused me to do so.”
“He is an ally of the queens.”
“So?”
“Does that matter to you?”
“No.”
“Can’t you just be nice to him?”
“You want me to fuck him for you?”
“No! That’s not what I mean, Kachka. I mean, just be nice to him. Polite. Try not to piss him off, yeah?”
“So you want me to use mouth?”
That’s when Gaius couldn’t keep it in anymore. He fell back on the bed laughing, and Kachka laughed with him.
“Really?” Celyn demanded. “I’m trying to help and you’re tormenting me?”
A slightly smaller, prettier version of Celyn sauntered into the room. Gaius knew her immediately. Branwen. He’d known her when she was still Branwen the Black. A young She-dragon with dreams of being a great warrior like her mother. Now, years later, after helping the queen and Iseabail rescue Gaius’s sister, she’d become Branwen the Awful. A name he’d heard she was quite proud of.
A well-respected captain in the Dragon Queen’s Army, Branwen was dressed from neck to toes in chain mail and leather, with a sword and several daggers on her belt, and a shield at her back. And from what Gaius had heard over the years, no matter the day or time, Branwen the Awful was always ready for battle.
“Ho, ho!” Branwen laughed as she stared at her annoyed brother. “Is the great Celyn the Charming trying to be in charge?”
Gaius had also heard that Branwen had not taken her brother’s promotion to the rank of sergeant major in the Queen’s Army well at all. He outranked her, although he was more a guard to the queen than a hardened battle warrior.
“I am in charge,” Celyn snarled at his sister. “At least of you, Captain.”
“What does his lordship want you to do, Kachka?” Branwen asked, ignoring her brother.
“Suck the cock of a king for the queens’ benefit.”
Branwen gasped, feigning horror, her free hand pressed dramatically against her chest. “Celyn!”
“I asked you to do no such thing, Kachka!”
Kachka shrugged. “They all think if there is available hole, they must fuck it.”
“That is not what I said!” Celyn argued.
Branwen shook her head. “Mum would be disgusted.”
“Don’t you have something to do, Captain?”
Branwen grinned. “Not at the moment.”
After another withering glare at his sister, Celyn again focused on Kachka. “I was just saying that King Gaius is our ally, and I need you to remember that.”
“I remember. I just do not care.”
Branwen giggled like a child while her brother tried his best to ignore her.
“I do not care if you care,” he snapped at Kachka. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that Gaius was right there. Right in front of them. Gods, he hadn’t been this entertained in ages. “I just need you to remember and treat him as befitting an allied royal.”
“By burning down his home, destroying his lands, and making his sons one of my many husbands? Because that’s how Daughters of the Steppes treat royals.”
“Allied royals?”
“If they piss us off.” Kachka shrugged. “Maybe he pissed me off.”
“Well, do me a favor,” Celyn said, staring Kachka in the ey
es while he reached over and slapped his hand over his sister’s laughing face, “and pretend he didn’t piss you off.”
“Pretend? What is pretend?”
“Fake it. Just do that for me, Kachka. Please.”
“Fine. But only because my sister is forced to choose you as husband because she is weak and has no other options.”
Branwen laughed loudly behind his hand and repeated, “No other options! She has no other options!”
That’s when Celyn shoved his sister out of the room, her startled squeak surprising them all. She was a feared captain of the Dragon Queen’s Army after all.
“Please, Kachka,” Celyn pleaded.
“Yessss,” she hissed. “I will be nice to him.”
“Thank—” was all he got out before his sister grabbed him from behind, yanked him out of the room, and tossed him head first over the banister.
Gaius cringed when he heard the dragon hit the hard stone floor of the Great Hall.
“Crazed female!” Celyn yelled at his sister.
“King Gaius,” Branwen went on with a large smile. “It’s good to see you, as always.”
“You, too, dear Branwen.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to beat my brother to death.”
Kachka watched Branwen walk out and head toward the stairs.
“She will not really beat him to death,” Kachka felt the need to explain.
“You sound disappointed.”
Kachka shrugged. “I do not know if disappointed is right word, but it is close. . . .” She stared at him. “Did I give you enough entertainment before you go to bed?”
“Yes. You did. And it was amazing.”
“Now sleep. No one will bother you in this room. The sheep never come to this room.”
“Sheep? You call the servants sheep?”
“What would you have me call them?”
“People?”
Kachka waved that suggestion away and walked to the door. “Sleep well, royal.”
“No kiss good-night?”
She walked into the hallway, shaking her head. “Males. All of you are pathetic.”
“But you can’t blame us for trying.”
She smirked. “I blame males for all things. You deserve no less. Now sleep, dragon. And try not to burn house down with flame-y snores.”
Kachka closed the door, and Gaius stretched back out on the bed, arms above his head.
He was just starting to drift off when he realized something—Kachka Shestakova was really adorable when she was torturing others.
Zoya Kolesova finished writing her note on the parchment. Once done, she opened the top of her leather travel bag and smiled down at the white crow staring up at her.
“Hello, my lovely,” she cooed to the bird. She reached in and carefully removed it. While she held it in one hand, she used her other hand to wrap the note around its leg and secured it.
She then kissed the bird on its head for luck and set it free. It headed north and Zoya watched it until it disappeared.
Pleased, she set off back to that giant house that the royals lived in. Such fanciness the Southlanders needed to survive.
Zoya made it past the trees and that’s when she saw Kachka and Elina Shestakova. It seemed life in the Southlands had been good for poor little Elina. A solid hunter, that one, but worthless in battle.
“Ho, comrades!” Zoya called out, waving when they slowly turned to face her. “Off to the pub?”
When Kachka didn’t reply, Elina bumped her with her shoulder. “Yes. We are going to pub to meet with others.”
“Good! I will join you! I could use drink!”
Kachka made a strange noise, but she was always making strange noises. Zoya ignored it. It was probably a defect of some kind, but no reason her mother should have gotten rid of her at birth or anything.
Zoya stepped between the sisters and threw her arms around their shoulders.
“The witches here are great. I feel better already from the skills of that white-haired one.”
“Really?” Kachka Shestakova sighed out. “That is so wonderful.”
“Is it not?” Zoya asked, hugging the women tighter. Nothing meant more to Zoya than the bond of her tribeswomen. Why, though, Kachka had brought along that useless boy and the evil witch, she didn’t know. But she wouldn’t argue with her. Not when drinking was about to begin!
Chapter Twelve
They found the others in a pub not far from the main house. Kachka wanted to ease in and sit down at the table with the others without being noticed, but that was impossible with Zoya by their side. Not simply because of her size, which was daunting enough, but because as soon as she walked in, she announced, “Hello to the sheep of the Southlands! Zoya is here!”
Kachka was just spinning around, about to tell the big oaf to shut her mouth and go the hells back to the Outerplains, when Elina caught her shoulder and shoved her toward the table.
With a sigh, Kachka sat down and, in their native tongue, said, “As you can see, Zoya feels better.”
“Yay,” they all weakly said, though Ivan didn’t even bother.
“I know you are all glad to see me! And I am glad to see all of you, my comrades!”
Zoya dropped into a chair, the wood creaking.
Once they were settled, Ivan Khoruzhaya leaned in and asked, “Why are we here, Kachka Shestakova?”
Zoya slammed her fist on the table, startling everyone in the room but the Riders. “Do not question her, useless boy!”
Ivan began to say something, but Kachka cut him off. “Wait.” She couldn’t afford to lose Ivan, and Zoya would twist him until he was nothing but flesh and shattered bones.
“Zoya,” Kachka patiently explained in their native tongue, “while Ivan is with us, he will have a say in our decisions and be able to ask questions.”
“A man? You’d trust a man to ask smart questions? Why?”
“Because our group is small, we need all the help we can get. Plus, this is the Southlands. Here, the women and men work together. The men are just not for breeding and trash removal.”
Stunned, Zoya sat back, strange noises coming from the back of her throat.
“It’s all right, Zoya,” Elina tried, resting her hand on Zoya’s arm. “My mate and I make decisions together all the time.”
“Your mate is a dragon male. And you are weak and only alive because your sister saved your ass.” She gave a small shrug. “No offense.”
Elina’s eye narrowed dangerously and she growled out between clenched teeth, “No offense taken.”
“Just get used to it,” Kachka told Zoya. “We all have to work together. We have to have each other’s back. None of this tribe bullshit.”
“What do you need from us, Kachka Shestakova?” Nina Chechneva asked. She was pale and kept rubbing her legs, but Kachka didn’t bother to ask how she was feeling. She assumed if there was a problem, the witch would be smart enough to tell her.
“The Chramnesind cult has sent out assassins to kill worshippers of other gods and destroy their temples. They’ve been doing it all over the Southlands. But we are going to get to them first.”
“And do what?” Marina asked.
“Kill them all.”
“Oh.” She nodded. “All right.”
“The ones we kill,” Nina interjected, “I can have their souls, yes?”
“For what?” Tatyana asked.
“You do not ask me questions, I won’t ask you questions.”
“You just asked a question.”
“That’s my business.”
“Take what you want from them, Nina Chechneva. Who knows,” Kachka sighed, “perhaps we can find way to terrify them with your presence before we send them off to their god.”
Smiling, Nina sat back in her chair.
“But,” Kachka quickly reminded her, “you are not to do that to us.”
“Never.” She began rubbing her legs again. “My loyalty is to all of you. I’ve promised.”
“Who?” Marina asked.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“You keep saying that . . .” Ivan muttered.
Finally, a serving girl brought over several pints of ale. Kachka and Elina didn’t bother to drink theirs, and the others spit theirs out as soon as they took a sip.
“What is this? Water?” Marina Aleksandrovna demanded.
“This is . . . tepid,” Tatyana delicately admitted.
“We know.” Elina stood and waved at the pub owner. He nodded and, a few minutes later, brought over a case of drink that the sisters paid him to keep just for them. They made it themselves, letting it ferment in the ground before asking several pub owners to keep some on hand for them.
“Thank the horse gods,” Marina sighed before taking a large swig from her own bottle.
After they drank a bit, they all slammed their hands on the table and snarled in satisfaction.
“It will be good night, my fellow comrades . . . and the boy!” Zoya added, vaguely waving at Ivan.
But he was smart and simply rolled his eyes before getting on with his own drinking.
And, as they all drank . . . they planned.
Duke Roland Salebiri finished his morning prayers, lifting his face to the suns. A true blessing from his god.
Once done, he slowly got to his feet. He no longer felt the need to rush. To always be going, going, going. That was how he used to live. Before.
Before he’d been shown the true light. Given the true sight. For what you see with your eyes is all a lie. It is an untruth created by evil to blind one to the realities of this world.
To blind one to the darkness that was covering the world in its filth.
Roland faced his second in command, General Falke de Vitis. He was a strong, clean human. A powerful knight of the realm, untouched by the darkness of this world. Roland had complete faith in de Vitis because de Vitis had complete loyalty to their god. He would never betray Roland because Roland would never betray Chramnesind.
The great, the mighty Chramnesind.
“May your sight shine bright, my king.”
Roland smiled. “I am not king yet, de Vitis. But when the blood-soaked whore hangs from my battlements . . . I will be. Now, what news do you have to tell me?”