A Tale of Two Dragons Page 16

  “But it turned out,” she went on, unaware that Addolgar saw her much differently now, “Emyr already had plans of his own in place. He was going to hand me over to Olgeir and his Horde and, in return . . .” She swallowed, continued on, “In return, they were going to march around to the borderlands between the Southlands and the Western Mountains.”

  Addolgar blinked in surprise. “They were going to strike your father.”

  “Aye. And then attack the Queen’s troops from her weakest point.”

  “Olgeir’s smarter than I gave him credit for,” Addolgar grudgingly admitted.

  “I couldn’t let that happen,” she said fiercely. “Not to my father. I know he’d never allow me to mate a Northlander, but he’s still my father. I still love him.”

  Whatever. His sisters would never let anyone—not their father, not even the Queen—get between them and the males they loved. But they, like Braith, had a little something called integrity and backbone. “The troops that attacked Braith’s kin?”

  “A small local Horde whose territory Emyr had permission to travel through. But that’s when I knew something was very wrong. The Henriksson Horde is an enemy of Herleif’s people and loathe Southland dragons. They never would have allowed us to travel through their territory unchallenged. But they allowed us to travel through for Olgeir. When I realized that . . . well, one night I went off to relieve myself, shifted to human, and snuck back. That’s when I heard Emyr’s plan.” She frowned and noted, “Emyr had to repeat that plan several times to his sons. They were quite stupid.”

  Addolgar thought on that comment a moment. “Were?” Then he gawked at the royal. “Lady Katarina . . . what have you done?”

  She gave a very small and dainty shrug. “What I had to.”

  “Oy. Mountain.”

  Annoyed by that nickname, Addolgar glared over his shoulder. Owena stood behind him and gave a short jerk of her head, as always ignoring his glare.

  “Stay here a moment,” he told Katarina before he went off after Owena. He followed the She-dragon until he reached a clearing. Braith and the rest of her kin stood waiting. Waiting and staring. He walked past them, not stopping until he reached Elder Emyr. The dragon sat slumped in front of the pit fire, remnants of drool and vomit dried on his chest scales, one of his eyes picked out by the crows that had planted themselves on all the bodies.

  “She poisoned them all,” Owena said low, as if afraid to wake the dead. “All of them.”

  Addolgar immediately turned and walked over to Braith. No matter how she might have felt about the dragon, Emyr had still been her father. He took her claw and led her a bit away from her kin and the rotting smell of death.

  “Are you all right?” he asked when they stopped.

  “It’s not exactly what I expected. Not like this.” She suddenly looked up. “Is Katarina still alive?”

  “She is. I found her in a clearing.”

  “What happened?”

  “She’s in love. With a Lightning from the Torbjörn Horde.”

  Braith’s eyes widened at that. “A royal of stature willingly going to a Lightning? That’s something Addiena will never tolerate.”

  “I know. Katarina knew it, too.”

  “Why did she kill them?”

  “For several reasons, it seems, but apparently I’m not royal enough to truly understand her logic.”

  Braith smirked. “My father double-crossed her, didn’t he?”

  “Exactly. And she reacted accordingly.”

  “Huh. Well, my father always underestimated females,” Braith murmured, glancing over at the bodies again.

  Addolgar squeezed her claws with his own and she looked away from the corpses.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked her.

  “About Katarina?”

  “Aye. Do you want to take her back to the Queen?”

  Braith thought on that a moment. Then she asked, “Do you believe her? About the Lightning she says she’s in love with?”

  “I do. And, in case you’re wondering, the Horde that Emyr sent to your kin’s cave was the Henriksson, not the Torbjörns. They had nothing to do with the raid, if it helps any.”

  “It does since we did kill all those males. I’m sure there are more left behind, but that Horde was probably gutted.”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “If we let her go, we need a commitment that the Torbjörns will not try to cross the borders again to attack.”

  “They won’t. They weren’t planning to. Kill your father and brothers, though . . . that did seem to be on the agenda.”

  “So many wanted that dragon dead,” she sighed out. “And yet, I feel nothing for his loss from this world.” Braith briefly closed her eyes, then said, “Let her go. If for no other reason, she did help to save your life.”

  Addolgar smiled. “I guess we do owe her for that.”

  “Then it’s decided. We let her go and tell the Queen Katarina had already escaped and we couldn’t safely go farther into Northland territory. We’ll also take my father and brothers back to the Queen. See if their bodies appease her at all.”

  “Are you comfortable with that?”

  “Addolgar, this needs to end. For you. For your kin. For my kin.”

  “What are we doing?” Crystin asked from behind them.

  Braith stepped around Addolgar. “We’re taking my father and brothers back to the Queen.”

  “They’re already dead,” Crystin complained.

  “I am aware of that, Aunt Crystin.”

  “So we’ve got to carry these bodies back all the way to Devenallt Mountain?”

  “Addolgar and I need to get my father’s remains back to Devenallt Mountain.”

  “You don’t think we’re coming with you?” Crystin snapped, suddenly appearing quite annoyed. “Do you really think we’d let you meet that Red bitch on your own?”

  “Auntie Crystin—”

  “Shut up. You ramble like your mother sometimes.”

  Braith looked up at him. “I ramble?”

  “Not compared to my people,” Addolgar admitted.

  Crystin faced her sisters. “We need to get these three idiots back to Devenallt Mountain without breaking our backs in the process. Any suggestions?”

  “Aye,” Owena said. “I’ve got one.” She held out her claw to Addolgar. “Give us your ax, yeah?”

  Addolgar took a step back. “Owena . . . no.”

  “Just give us your ax. We’ll take care of the rest.”

  Disgusted, but not seeing much option, he looked at Braith. “And are you all right with that?”

  His She-dragon shrugged her shoulders and replied, “Eh.”

  Addolgar decided to take that as a yes.

  Braith winced as Crystin tossed the bags holding the heads of her father and two brothers at the foot of Addiena’s throne.

  The Queen glared down at the remains for a long moment before she focused that glare on Crystin. “Really?”

  “As requested, Your Majesty. The traitor Elder Emyr and his sons.”

  “I wanted them alive . . . and would you two stop that!” Addiena suddenly bellowed.

  They all turned and watched Bercelak and Ghleanna pull apart. Blood dripped from Bercelak’s snout, and one side of Ghleanna’s jaw was swollen. It seemed that the siblings had been fighting since Braith and Addolgar had left, much to the Queen’s annoyance—and Braith’s perverse sense of justice. Perhaps Addiena would now be less inclined to take so many hostages after this.

  Bercelak pointed a damning black talon at his sister. “She started it, Your Majesty.”

  “I started it?” Ghleanna screeched. “You’re such a big baby!”

  “Your Majesty!”

  “That is enough!” Addiena roared. She pointed her claw at Ghleanna. “Over there!” she ordered the She-dragon, motioning across her hall.

  “But, Your Majesty—”

  “Ghleanna! Move!”

  With a nasty snarl at her brother, Ghleanna st
omped across the hall.

  Addiena let out a very long and pain-filled breath.

  After she seemed a tad calmer, she focused back on Braith, her kin, and Addolgar.

  “Now where was I?” she asked.

  “You said you wanted them alive,” Brigida the Foul answered for Braith and the others as she slowly made her way across the hall. “But truth be told, Your Majesty, you actually agreed to dead or alive. And the Penardduns went with dead.”

  Addiena glowered at Brigida, but she couldn’t argue something that everyone who’d been in the throne room that day had heard. Especially in front of the other Elders, who were watching Addiena closely to see how she handled this. Many of them had offspring of their own, and unlike Braith’s father, they did not want to think that their actions could affect their children the way Emyr’s had been impacting Braith.

  Tapping one talon against her stone throne, the Queen eyed the group standing before her. Finally, she demanded, “And what of Lady Katarina? Her father is most worried about her.”

  “The—” Braith began, but Brigida, who now stood beside her, cut in quickly.

  “Tragically, Your Majesty, she was taken. By the Lightnings,” Brigida added with a sneer.

  “The Lightnings? They took her? Are you saying she was used as a bargaining chip by Emyr?”

  Brigida blinked and glanced at the Penardduns.

  “Ripped from us, she was,” Owena elaborated. “It was so sad, watching those bastards fly off with her. But we were too late to get her back.”

  “And who,” Addiena demanded, her eyes narrowing dangerously, “took her?”

  Brigida, holding on to her walking stick, leaned in and announced, “Olgeir, Your Majesty. Dragonlord of the Olgeirsson Horde.”

  Shocked, because Braith had no idea why the name of that bloody Horde was being used at this moment, Braith glanced at Addolgar. But he gave a very tiny shake of his head and they both kept silent.

  The Queen’s front claws dug into the stone of her throne. “First,” she growled, “they take Davon the Gold. Then they have the gall to take Katarina the Gold as well?”

  The Queen looked down, her claws still digging into her throne. She stayed like that for a long bit, but then, suddenly, she raised those blue eyes until she was looking right at Braith. And, in that moment, Braith understood. She understood that the Queen knew they were all lying. She knew it, and she didn’t care. Because she was going to use this to her benefit.

  With a blink, the Queen assumed her most put-upon expression as she looked over her court.

  “This cannot be borne,” she told them in her most queenly voice. “They cross borders to steal what is ours. And that is not something that we can tolerate. That we will tolerate.” She briefly scanned the chamber until her eyes locked on Bercelak. “Captain Bercelak,” she said, “you will lead my troops into the north and give the Olgeirsson Horde a taste of the Southland’s wrath.”

  Bercelak nodded. “It will be my pleasure, Your Majesty.”

  “Your Majesty,” one of the Elders interrupted, “you said it yourself, if we attack the Lightnings on their own territory, they will consider it an act of war.”

  “And what are we to consider their attacks on us? On our She-dragons? No, no,” she said, raising her claw, the talons with bits of stone still clinging to them. “The time is perfect.” She looked at Braith again, blue eyes so very cold. “Isn’t it . . . Lady Braith?”

  Braith knew what the cow was doing. Understood it quite clearly.

  Now, with Emyr dead, Braith knew this would be the last concession she ever made. But she would have to make it. If she wanted to live.

  “It is, Your Majesty. It is the right time to strike. To stop whatever my father may have put into motion.”

  The Queen relaxed back into her throne. She gestured to the heads on her floor. “Get that trash from my sight. And, Captain Bercelak, we will meet in one hour to discuss how we’ll be moving forward. So have your battle plans ready.”

  “I always do, Your Majesty.”

  The Queen focused on Braith.

  “Welcome home, Lady Braith, and”—the Queen smiled at this last bit—“good job.”

  Chapter 20

  They landed on the top of Devenallt Mountain, which was now covered with even more Cadwaladrs than Braith had even realized there were in the world, much less in close range of Devenallt.

  Pissed, Braith faced Brigida the Foul and her aunts. “What the holy hells was all that?” she demanded.

  “What do you think that was?” Crystin asked. “Us covering your ass.”

  “And doing a damn fine job of it, if you ask me,” Owena added.

  “I didn’t ask you. And what was all that centaur shit about the Olgeirsson Horde? Why are we bringing them into this?”

  Crystin shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  Braith looked at the White Dragonwitch. “Brigida?”

  “Why don’t you mind your own and I’ll mind my own.”

  “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

  “Her Majesty, lazy whore that she is—”

  “Brigida!” one of the Cadwaladrs cried out.

  “—would let the bloody Lightnings swarm this land if we let her. But we gave her a good solid reason to send some of our troops in there, which—once Bercelak does what he does best—will piss off the rest of the Hordes and we will finally make a stand with those purple-scaled bastards. Or,” she went on, “would you rather just hand over our females to them now, Braith of the Darkness?”

  “That wasn’t an option either, but doing this . . . what if Addiena finds out that we never even saw the Olgeirsson Horde?”

  “And when do you expect that to happen?” Brigida asked, moving around her to an edge on the packed mountain where she could take off comfortably. “When Olgeir himself actually writes her a letter informing her of this? Because even if the big bastard could write, I don’t think he would bother, which means you’re safe.”

  “But—”

  “Leave it be, Braith of the Darkness. This no longer has anything to do with you or that idiot father of yours.” Brigida expanded her wings from her body. “Just be glad you get to live another day.”

  Brigida stepped off the mountain and her wings caught the air, sending her soaring off.

  Braith closed her eyes and let out a breath. She had no idea how she’d lost control of this.

  “It’ll be all right,” Addolgar told her, his claw brushing down her shoulder.

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “Hey, Mountain!” Owena called out, and Braith quickly caught Addolgar’s wrist before he could do something stupid. “We’re hungry.”

  Now it was Addolgar’s time to close his eyes and let out a breath. “Of course,” he finally said. “Mum already knows you’re coming.”

  As a ridiculously large group, they flew to the area just outside the gates of Ailean’s castle. There, the Cadwaladrs and the Penardduns landed, shifted to human, and put on clothes. The Cadwaladrs, although no longer needing to protect Braith or Ghleanna, had not returned to their own caves or castles because they all wanted to get their chance to hunt and kill Lightnings in the north. So until Bercelak decided which of the Queen’s troops would be coming with him, the Cadwaladrs would be making good use of Ailean’s territory.

  The Penardduns, however, had a longer trip back home and invited themselves to stay at the castle for the night. Something Addolgar knew his father wouldn’t mind . . . but Addolgar couldn’t speak for his mother. She just thought they were coming for dinner.

  They entered the courtyard and found his mother and father waiting for them on the steps.

  Shalin grinned and clapped her hands together when she saw her offspring come through the gates. They always felt her love without her ever saying a word.

  Their father, though, was always more . . . chatty.

  “We’re so glad you all have your heads!” he announced . . . loudly.

  Addolgar stopp
ed at the bottom of the stairs, gazed up at his father. “Gee . . . thanks, Da.”

  “Well, what do you want me to say?”

  Braith’s aunts pushed past Addolgar and Ghleanna so that they could leer up the stairs at Ailean.

  “Ailean,” Crystin called out. “Long time, old friend.”

  “Crystin. Owena. Aledwen. Good to see all of you again. As always, the Penarddun She-dragons look beautiful.”

  Braith’s aunts grinned widely at the compliment—Owena may have even giggled—while Ailean’s mate and offspring rolled their eyes. Especially Ghleanna, who appeared the most appalled.

  “Well,” Crystin said, “we’ll be staying here at least the night so I hope you’ll have time for dinner and a little chat about old . . .”

  Crystin’s words faded away as three male dragons in human form walked out of the Main Hall doors. Addolgar didn’t recognize them, but Caron ran up the stairs and threw herself into one of the dragons’ arms.

  “Daddy!”

  Crystin crossed her arms over her chest and gawked up the stairs at her mate. “What the hells are you lot doing here?”

  “Oh,” Shalin said, smiling, “when I heard from Addolgar that all of you were safe and coming back to the Southlands together, I sent out messengers to retrieve your mates since I knew they were part of the troops camped not too far from here. Isn’t that fortuitous?”

  “Aye,” Crystin muttered. “So very fortuitous.”

  The three males glowered down the stairs at their mates and one of them demanded, “What idiocy did you idiotic lot get me lovely daughters into this time, ya daft cows?”

  “Don’t even start!” Aledwen barked back, stomping up the stairs to the Main Hall, her sisters stomping right behind her. The three couples bickered all the way into the castle, but the way the Penarddun offspring didn’t seem to notice or care told Addolgar this was how things went among their parents.

  Once the Penardduns had gone inside, Shalin opened her arms and Addolgar went up the stairs to hug her.