Feel the Burn (Dragonkin #8)

by G. A. Aiken

  “Where’s your sister?”

  “How would I know?” Cinnie glanced at Aidan and back at her mother. She hadn’t seen him in at least two decades, and it was clear she didn’t care.

  “Well, get into something beautiful. That pink dress you have should work.”

  “What for?” She again glanced at Aidan. “For him?”

  “No. King Gaius is here.”

  “The Rebel King is here? Oh! Is he handsome?”

  “Missing an eye, but tolerable. And still unmarked, from what I understand,” his mother said eagerly. “We’ll toss you and your sister at him and see what happens.”

  “You’ll never be queen,” Aidan felt the need to point out. “He rules the Empire with his sister. She’s his queen.”

  “Ewwww.”

  “Not like that, you idiot. And if I were you, Mother, I wouldn’t waste my time throwing any of your offspring at the king.”

  “Why not? Both my daughters are high-born enough for the usurper of Thracius’s throne.”

  Aidan took a moment to crack his neck, relieving the tension that had been building there since he’d first stepped into the marshes surrounding his parents’ territories. “First, you have three daughters. Just as you have three sons. Let’s keep that in mind, shall we? And second, you may not want to refer to Gaius as a usurper to Thracius’s throne. At least not in front of him. I’m relatively certain that will insult him and make Rhiannon extremely paranoid about you. With good reason. And third, Gaius is only here to get access to the Western Mountain Dwarves. Not so that you can throw your daughters at him.”

  Lips pursed, his mother narrowed her eyes on Aidan. “You call him Gaius? He allows that from some worthless little Mì-runach?”

  Aidan slowly nodded his head and replied, “Yes, Mother, I missed you, too.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Gaius didn’t know how long he slept on that soft bed in his room, but he felt a hand caressing his bare chest and immediately grabbed it.

  He was really relieved when he opened his eyes and saw Kachka grinning down at him.

  “Thank the gods it’s you,” he sighed out.

  “I am good fuck.”

  “That’s not what I mean . . . mostly.” He raised himself up on his elbows. “Did you see the way Gormlaith was salivating at me? She wants me for her daughters. Something I’d like to avoid.”

  Kachka sat cross-legged on the bed. “You do not want royal wife?”

  “I don’t want any wife at the moment. But based solely on Aidan’s reaction to his kin, I definitely don’t want anything to do with his sisters.”

  “No one gets along with family.”

  “There’s not getting along, Kachka, and there’s warning you to run. That’s a big difference.”

  “Brannie does not like it here either,” she admitted. “She paces in her room like chained dog.”

  “She has her mother’s instincts.”

  “And tits.”

  Gaius dropped back on the bed, one arm thrown over his eyes until he felt Kachka land on his lap, her thighs on either side of his hips, even though a fur still separated her from his naked body. He lifted his arm enough so he could peek at her.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Just wanted to be comfortable while we wait to feed.”

  “Well, if you really want to be comfortable—” he began, placing his hands on her hips. But before he could take even a tiny step farther, Aidan walked into the room, with Brannie right behind him.

  The poor dragon dropped face down on Gaius’s bed, ignoring the fact that, save for the fur covering, Gaius was naked and Kachka was on his lap.

  “I hate these dragons!” Aidan roared into the bedding.

  “What happened?” Brannie asked, closing the door behind her and throwing the bolt. Like that would help with dragons.

  The walls were made of stone, but not the doors.

  Aidan lifted his head to look at Gaius. “Just so you know, you’re expected to pick a queen from one of my sisters. But only the two eldest because no one cares about my younger sister or even knows where she is.”

  “No offense, Aidan, but—”

  “You don’t even have to say it. I wouldn’t wish my two oldest sisters on my worst enemy. Besides, they’re already queens. Queens of vapidity.”

  “I’m sorry we needed to bring you here.”

  “I offered. I just forgot how hard it is to deal with them.” He turned on his side, resting his head on his fist, his elbow on the bed. “Two decades I’ve been away and they’re still intolerable.”

  “You haven’t been home in twenty years?” Brannie asked.

  He leveled his gaze at her. “Do you feel comfortable here, Cadwaladr?”

  “No,” she quietly admitted. “But I thought I was just being paranoid.”

  “You can’t be paranoid enough around my family.”

  Gaius again raised himself up on his elbows, but he wasn’t about to move Kachka. He liked her right where she was, even if there was an audience.

  “Are you sure we have to go through your father for this? Can’t we just bypass him and the rest of your family?”

  “No. In order to get to the dwarves, we have to go through this castle and into their tunnels. My father’s soldiers guard those entrances. It’ll be a fight if we try to get by them without his permission.”

  “You keep them busy,” Kachka offered, “and I will get by them.”

  “And then what?” Gaius asked.

  “He’s right. Without my father providing you with an invitation, with his seal, the dwarves will chop you to pieces. They hate Riders.” Aidan shrugged. “They actually hate everyone. But they do tolerate my father. Speaking of which . . .”

  Aidan sat up. “I also think I should mention that my father is slightly . . . uh . . . hmmmh . . . insane.”

  Gaius blinked. “Wait . . . what?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He’s insane? Like Annwyl insane?”

  “See, I don’t view our dear Annwyl as insane so much as quirky. My father, however . . . he’s what I would classify as truly insane. Thinks the walls are talking to him. Thinks stray dogs are plotting his death. Thinks his hair is magickal.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t ask. Just let me handle him.”

  “Are you good at handling him?” Gaius had to ask.

  “I still have all my limbs and my scales so . . . yes.”

  “But he sent you to be one of the Mì-runach,” Brannie reminded him.

  “That was my decision.”

  “Why would anyone choose to be that?”

  “I knew working directly for the Dragon Queen could only be good for me.”

  Flabbergasted, Brannie pointed out, “I’ve seen you in battle. You could have easily taken the trials and been a Dragonwarrior, and worked directly for the queen. Wouldn’t that have been easier?”

  “If you think taking the trials under the oh-so-gentle tutelage of your Uncle Bercelak is easier than being thrown in a pit with sixteen drunk Mì-runach attempting to cave my head in with their warhammers . . . then I must point out that you’re very wrong.”

  Once the two dragons left, Kachka was still sitting on Gaius’s lap—and she was quite comfortable. She could feel his big cock pressing against the inside of her thigh and she was tempted to suck the whole thing into her mouth. But she knew they’d have to go to dinner soon.

  “Are you going to wear that to our meal tonight?” he asked, gazing at her.

  Kachka had put on leather leggings and a sleeveless fur vest and fur boots. She still had open wounds on her arms from her last fight with Salebiri’s troops, although the cream that Brannie had insisted putting on her cheek each morning as they’d traveled had healed the face wound much more quickly. The stitches were still in, because Uther was not willing to pull them out for another day or two.

  But she wasn’t about to hide herself away. She was as proud of her scars as any Daughter of the Steppes should be.<
br />
  “Yes.”

  He grinned. “Good. Make sure to sit next to me.”

  “What if they try to make me sit somewhere else?”

  “Be your usual, etiquette-minded self. I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

  Kachka leaned in and kissed Gaius’s nose. “You are funny for lizard.”

  “Oh, your compliments. How I do adore them.”

  Unlike Gaius, Aidan couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t nap. He couldn’t relax.

  So he headed deep into the Stone Castle, as the Western Mountain Riders called Aidan’s home. He’d spent his early decades exploring every nook and cranny of this place. It was his escape when he felt no escape was possible. And it was while exploring as a young dragon that he’d met the Master of the Guards. A green dragon and distant relation of the Cadwaladrs, the older warrior had taken pity on Aidan. He’d trained him how to fight. First with claws and tail, then flame and fang, then sword and shield—then with everything else. He taught him how to be a warrior dragon while Aidan’s grandfather taught him how to think. How to maneuver in a world of politics and royals.

  His grandfather thought Aidan would one day take over protecting the Western Mountains for the Dragon Queen. According to him, “One brother is a mouth-breathing idiot. The other is so pliable as to be ineffective. Two sisters who are as vapid as your mother and a baby sister who will be crushed under the weight of so much uselessness. So . . . that leaves you.”

  It had also been his grandfather who’d sent Aidan away. “Go to the queen,” he’d said. “She’ll treat you better than your own kin.” And, as usual, he’d been right. Going to Queen Rhiannon had been the best thing Aidan had done. As had choosing the Mì-runach. The queen had been downright giddy when he’d told her. She adored her Mì-runach while the rest of the world loathed them. In fact, she’d been the one to give him the name “Divine.”

  “Not only because you’re pretty like my Gwenvael,” Rhiannon had said, “but you are just absolutely delightful!”

  Gods, he missed the queen. He wished he was back at Devenallt Mountain, the seat of power for the Southland dragons. Nothing more entertaining than sitting around and watching the growling Lord Bercelak snarl and snap at the royals and Elders who made the mistake of breathing near him.

  Yet Aidan knew that he belonged here. At this moment. King Gaius, whom Aidan had grown to greatly respect, wanted to help his Rider lover find the artifact before Salebiri’s people could. How could Aidan not help?

  Aidan was about to turn down another corridor when he knew—knew—that he was being watched.

  Smiling, he raised his gaze up to the rocky ceiling above. “Hello, sweet Orla.”

  Wide brown eyes stared down at him, gold hair falling in her face, gold scales glinting in the torch-lit cavern as Orla hung by her talons.

  “Hello.”

  “What are you doing up there?”

  “Nothing. Why?”

  “Have you been hiding from the family again?”

  “I wouldn’t call it hiding. . . .”

  “Avoiding?”

  “Yes. I would call it that.”

  Aidan wanted to smile and hug his baby sister, but he knew they had a few things to work out first. “You still mad at me, luv?”

  “You left me,” she reminded him—and accused.

  “I had to.”

  “You left me alone with them.”

  “I know.”

  “Why?”

  “You were a hatchling that couldn’t shift yet. I couldn’t take you into human territory with me. Not yet.”

  “So . . . you came back for me?”

  Aidan couldn’t lie to her, even though he really wanted to.

  “I didn’t. I came to help a friend. But—”

  Orla didn’t even let him finish. With a flap of wings and a dangerously long tail, she was gone, nearly taking his head off in the process.

  An arm circled Aidan’s neck and he wasn’t surprised when Brannie’s chin rested on his shoulder. He’d bet she couldn’t sleep either. Naps were hard when you were waiting for the worst to happen.

  “I should point out,” Brannie said, “that baby sisters have very long memories. We forget nothing and hold absolutely everything against you.”

  “Thank you for that,” he told her flatly.

  “But have no fear. We may never forget or forgive, but we always love our big brothers. Despite everything and no matter how much you may owe us emotionally. And, gods, do you owe big!”

  Aidan finally laughed. “Cow.”

  Gaius and Kachka napped together until the door opened and Lady Gormlaith stuck her head in. She smiled when Gaius opened his eyes, but they quickly narrowed in annoyance when she realized that there was a scarred arm tossed over his chest.

  “Food is ready whenever you are, King Gaius.”

  “We’ll be right down,” he promised, grinning when the door finally closed.

  “I hear tone from that female,” Kachka noted without moving.

  “There was definitely tone when she said ‘King’ like that. Apparently I’m forgetting my place by bedding such a Low Born human.”

  Kachka used her free hand to rub her eyes, but she still hadn’t moved the arm draped over his chest.

  “Who?” she asked.

  “That would be you, Kachka Shestakova.”

  “Me?” She moved her hand away from her eyes, blinked at him. “I am Kachka Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains. I am better than any imperialist dog.”

  Gaius kissed her. “And that’s why I am going to have such an entertaining night tonight.”

  He threw the fur wrap off and stood. “Come, beautiful Kachka Shestakova. I have much introducing to do this evening!”

  “And this, Lady Cinnie, is Nina Chechneva, the Unclaimed.”

  Bored eyes glazed, the She-dragon called Cinnie nodded. “Nice to meet all of you,” she managed to get out without yawning.

  Gaius moved down to Aidan’s brother Harkin. “Lord Harkin of the Foulkes de chuid Fennah, second son of Lady Gormlaith and Lord Jarlath. And Lord Harkin this is . . .”

  Annnnd he introduced all of them again. All the Daughters of the Steppes. Full names. Never shortening any of it. For each of them. Even Ivan, who just seemed confused by that since he’d never been introduced by anyone before except out of necessity.

  Suddenly, Kachka had a deep understanding of the annoyance the Southlanders felt when her people began to say their names.

  “And this, Lord Harkin,” Gaius finished, “is Nina Chechneva, the Unclaimed.”

  Harkin was staring blankly at the stone wall behind Gaius’s head, but a shove from Aidan had him barking, “Yes. Right. Nice to meet all of you.”

  “Oh, look!” Aidan cheered, jumping up from his chair and running to the front of the hall. “My eldest brother, Ainmire, is here!”

  His brother stepped back from Aidan. “What are you doing here?”

  “I am so glad to see you, too, big brother.” Aidan yanked the bigger dragon in human form over to Gaius while Ainmire stared at his brother for what seemed like a very long time. As if Aidan had been thought dead and was now suddenly in front of them alive. Perhaps he’d been gone so long that’s how it felt to his kin? Kachka didn’t know.

  “King Gaius Lucius Domitus, this is my eldest brother, Ainmire.”

  “Ahh. Nice to meet you Lord Ainmire. Please, allow me to introduce you to Kachka Shestakova of the . . .”

  Annnnd again off he went! Clearly enjoying every torturous moment of it.

  While food was brought out of the kitchens by the servants, Gaius sat down near the head of the table. The big stone chair that resembled a throne a little too much for Gaius’s liking—or, at least what he was sure would be Rhiannon’s liking—stood empty. He wondered where Lord Jarlath might be. Odd that he hadn’t come. If not to meet with Gaius, at least to see his son.

  Brannie plopped into the chair
on his left. He got the feeling she sat there because she was protecting him.

  Lady Cinnie pulled the chair out on the right side of Gaius, but Kachka easily pushed the She-dragon aside.

  “I sit by him.” Kachka dropped into the chair, one foot resting on the opposite knee. “Go sit elsewhere.”

  The She-dragon glared down at Kachka with such venom that Gaius was sure he’d have to step in to protect the human. Perhaps kill for her.

  When Lady Cinnie didn’t move fast enough, Kachka dismissed her with a hand wave that rivaled that of a true royal.

  “Go sit down over there, Cinnie dear,” her mother growled at her through clenched teeth.

  Cinnie walked away, her chair scraping ominously as she pulled it back.

  Zoya watched the servants carefully place the food in front of the guests and Aidan’s family, her gaze moving back and forth the length of the table before she asked, “Is this what you call feast?”

  “Yes,” Lady Gormlaith replied. “Is there not enough food for your”—she gestured at Zoya—“proportions?”

  “Enough food. But where are the musicians? The talk? Everyone is happy and talking at Queen Annwyl’s feasts. Here it is like someone died. Has someone died? Are you mourning? Then we should mourn with you. Nina Chechneva!” Zoya barked, slamming her fist on the table. “Sing the song of death to honor our hosts!”

  That’s when Nina Chechneva stood and began . . . wailing. It was musical wailing, but it was definitely wailing. A grating, painful wailing with a strange backbeat.

  Aidan’s grin was a sight to behold. Big and happy. He couldn’t be more pleased. Yet his kin . . . not nearly as happy. Not even close.

  Nina stopped and the wailing seemed to be over, until she ordered, “Now everyone!”

  Then all the Riders began to wail. Musically.

  Gaius had to drop his head, especially when he realized that Brannie was shaking next to him. She was so desperately trying not to laugh, but the tears falling into her lap betrayed her failure.

  “We do not have a death!” Gormlaith finally yelled out. “There is no reason to sing the song of... whatever.”