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  “Auntie—”

  “Don’t auntie me, Celyn the Charming! And how did you even get that name? You clearly don’t deserve it!”

  “You gave it to me.”

  “That was obviously a mistake on my part.”

  “You never make mistakes, my queen. You told me that yourself.”

  Slowly, the queen looked over at the black dragon and, in return, he slowly grinned, flashing a number of exceptionally large fangs. The largest fangs Elina had ever had the misfortune of seeing.

  “Take her,” the queen ordered, “someplace safe. And do it before I am forced to get my ass off this throne so that I can throttle you to death!”

  The black dragon gave a small bow. “As you command, my queen.”

  “Oh, stop it, Celyn.”

  She heard the black dragon chuckle, his big body slowly turning. He studied Elina a moment, then walked off. After he passed, Elina looked down in time to see his tail circling her waist.

  “Not—” was all she managed to get out before his tail lifted her up and carried her out of a side exit to the chamber. As they moved, Elina could hear the queen call out, “Bercelak, my love! I’m so glad you’re home!”

  “Why,” another low voice demanded from the queen’s throne room, “do you all look guilty? What are you hiding from me, Rhiannon?”

  Celyn landed outside Garbhán Isle, the seat of power of the human Southland queen. He dropped the female he held in his tail and shifted to human. He glanced back at the woman and warned, “Don’t try to run away.”

  “Run away?” she repeated in that thick Outerplains accent. “Run away to where, dragon? You cannot outrun failure. Disappointment. Misery. So why even try?”

  Celyn, reaching for a set of clothes that was left outside the city for the many dragons coming and going, paused for a moment, again glancing back at the human female. “You’re a fun, perky girl, aren’t you?” he joked.

  She shrugged. “I am known as annoyingly cheery among my tribe. A curse I cannot escape.”

  Unwilling to even think too much on that bit of information, Celyn quickly pulled on chain-mail leggings, a chain-mail shirt, and leather boots. Once dressed, he took the spear from the woman’s hand and tossed it on the pile of other weapons. Then he grabbed hold of the woman’s arm and led her past the city gates. The guards nodded at him and he nodded back.

  “So,” she suddenly asked, “will my execution be long and painful or quick and brutal?”

  “If the queen had wanted you executed, she would have done it herself. You live because of her good graces.”

  “She is not what I expected,” the woman admitted.

  “What did you expect?”

  The woman shrugged. “A slobbering beast of lizard that deserved to die a thousand deaths. Instead . . . she was quite pleasant.”

  Celyn grunted. “So sorry we disappointed you.”

  She patted the hand holding her. “Not your fault.”

  Celyn stopped walking and faced her. He was about to explain to her how insulting she was being when something about her struck him and he guessed, “You didn’t want to do this . . . did you?”

  She quickly looked away from his question before finally saying, “Does that matter? I was given task and I failed task. I failed tribe. Do your worst to me.”

  Rolling his eyes, “Lady Misery, get off the pyre. . . . We need the wood.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked as they headed down the street.

  “It means stop feeling sorry for yourself. Clearly someone sent you here to die. That should make you angry. I’d be angry.”

  “First, dragon, I do not feel sorry for myself. I failed and if I must die for that failure—so be it. That is the way of things. And second,” she continued, getting testy, “do not act like you are better than us.” He thought she meant dragons versus humans, but no. That wasn’t what she meant. “You are lazy, decadent Southlanders, living off the poor as only imperialist scum can do. And,” she went on, pointing a finger, “I know you think I am weak because I am woman. But I am Daughter of Steppes. Not some needy, useless Southland female begging for man to take care of her. I can at least say I am stronger than that.”

  Celyn laughed. “Aye. That’s definitely the problem. Southland females are so very weak. All I know are weak females. Oh, how they disgust me! The weak Southland females.”

  “What I thought,” she sniffed.

  The black dragon pulled her into the city jail. Her people didn’t have “jails” or prisons. It didn’t make sense to keep someone around or alive once tribe law was broken. So they never did. But the Southlanders were big believers in prisons . . . and dungeons.

  Elina felt confident that prison was preferable to a dungeon. She didn’t like the idea of being placed in an underground cage. It would be too much like being buried alive.

  The dragon stopped in front of a poorly made wooden desk. The large man behind it got to his stubby legs, the keys at his side clanking.

  “My lord,” the man said, nodding at the dragon.

  “Constable. I need to stow this woman here.”

  “Here?” He glanced around. “Is she guilty of something?”

  “Besides wearing on my nerves . . . yes. But you will not mention her presence to anyone. Especially Lord Fearghus or Briec. Understand?”

  “Well . . . ?”

  “Understand?”

  “Aye.”

  “Good. You’ll keep her here and you’ll keep her safe. I’m sure you understand what I mean.”

  “Yes. Of course, my lord.”

  “Good.” He placed his hand against Elina’s back and shoved her toward the constable. “Someone,” he muttered to Elina, “will be around to move you at some point.”

  Elina turned to ask when that might be, but only managed to catch a glimpse of the dragon and his long, black hair disappearing out the door. And she had the uneasy feeling she’d never see him again.

  “This way, miss,” the constable said kindly.

  With a sigh, Elina followed the constable until they reached a cell. He unlocked the door and Elina stepped inside.

  It wasn’t much of a cell, with only a small bed, a desk, a weak-looking chair, and a chamber pot. But there was a window with bars, and the room appeared mostly vermin-free. And since Elina normally lived in a tent with eight of her sisters . . . this was actually better than what she was used to.

  Sitting on the bed, Elina looked up at the constable, nodded. “Thank you.”

  “Of course.” He glanced around. “Is there anything you may need? Something to read, perhaps?”

  “That would be nice.”

  “All right. And you just let me know if there’s something else.”

  He walked out, closing the door, but only until it just touched the frame. He didn’t close it all the way. Maybe he was hoping Elina would make a run for it. But a run for where? Back to the mountains of the Outerplains so her tribe could look upon her in disgust and disappointment? Since she’d been seeing that expression for most of her life from most of her tribe except one sister, Kachka, it would be kind of nice to have a break from it for a little while. Besides . . . how long before these Southlanders sent her on her way? Not long, she was sure.

  So Elina settled on her bunk, her back against the wall, and she thought about taking a nap.

  Chapter Two

  JOURNAL ENTRY

  Season of the Goddess 195,202

  They rode up to our blessed temple at midday. Led by the City Guard, the pair rode on two enormous war horses. Even if they were not riding into battle, those horses were desperately needed. Especially for the male. I’d heard he was not human, but a dragon in its human form. It showed. He was so huge! Then again, so was this woman. Not as large as the male but large. Muscular. Maybe even a little, dare I say . . . manly?

  I watched as the group of six walked up the many stairs to our main doors. The dragon was pale as any Northman. So very white with actual blue hair. The woman with him was
clearly a descendant of our Desert Lands, but she still didn’t seem to belong here.

  They reached the top step and the City Guard commander gave a small bow. “Good day to you, Sister. We’re here to see Elder Elisa.”

  “Elder Elisa is unavailable, but Elder Haldane is waiting for you inside,” I said.

  The warrior woman rolled light brown eyes and without even looking, the dragon growled at her, “Stop it.”

  “It’s not like they didn’t know we were coming to see Rhian,” she snapped back.

  “Stop. It.”

  The City Guard smirked behind her helmet with the nose guard. “Please, lead the way, Sister.”

  So I did. And quickly! I did not want this warrior woman any more upset than she already was.

  Dressed as any hardened warrior in chain mail from head to foot, weapons of all kinds attached to the belt around her waist and across her back, she was clearly not a person one should challenge.

  Luckily, Elder Haldane waited for us not too far in. I was so relieved to see her! But I could tell by the look on her face she was in one of her less-than-cooperative moods. I wanted to shake her. “Just give them what they want!” I wanted to scream.

  We stopped in front of Elder Haldane, but before I could properly introduce everyone, the warrior woman threw her arms open and exclaimed, “Grandmother!” Then she hugged Elder Haldane! Hugged her! And I knew she was doing it on purpose. Simply to irritate the one woman who could turn the pair into the bears they both resembled.

  “Get off me!” Elder Haldane finally snapped, pushing the warrior woman away.

  “You’ve missed me, haven’t you?” the woman taunted, grinning. Oh, goddess, she was clearly enjoying her little “joke” on Elder Haldane. Nearly as much as Haldane was not enjoying this joke.

  “They are here to see Sister Rhianwen,” I quickly explained, hoping to keep this all as civil as possible.

  “Perhaps another time,” Elder Haldane said, sounding bored and put-upon. “We’re quite busy here with the winter solstice coming up. I’m sure you understand.”

  But as I watched, the warrior woman’s face slowly stopped smiling and such a dark look came over her that I, along with everyone else, knew she did not in any way understand. Nor was she about to start understanding.

  The male saw all that right away, quickly stepping between Elder Haldane and the warrior woman, his gaze focused on Haldane.

  “We understand you’re busy, my lady,” he said in a shockingly low voice, his silver eyes suggesting a much more caring soul than his companion. “But it’s been such a long time since we’ve seen my niece. Just a few minutes and then we can arrange another, better time for a proper meeting. You do understand, don’t you?”

  Elder Haldane sucked her tongue against her teeth in that way she has and, dear goddess, I thought it would get ugly there, but no . . .

  Thankfully Elder Haldane was swayed by the dragon’s soft words and with a curt, “Oh, come along then,” she led the way to Sister Rhianwen’s room.

  I ran up ahead to open the door myself. As one of Elder Haldane’s assistants, it’s been the only job she will give me at the moment. And, yes, I’m still trying hard not to be insulted by that.

  I arrived at Sister Rhianwen’s room first and knocked on the door. “Sister Rhianwen?” I called out. “You have visitors.”

  I didn’t wait for an answer, but instead opened the door and held it. That’s when I saw that poor Sister Rhianwen. . . . She was . . . she was being dragged! That’s the only way I can describe it. Dragged from this world into another. An arm coming out of some portal had hold of her wrist and was pulling Sister Rhianwen into it!

  “Elder Haldane!” I screamed and the small group rushed to the door in time to see poor Sister Rhianwen turn toward them.

  “Izzy!” Sister Rhianwen called out, her face filled with shock. “Gods, Izzy! Don’t tell Mum!”

  “Rhi!” the warrior woman bellowed, pushing past everyone and charging into the room. “Rhi!”

  She reached for Sister Rhianwen, but after a good pull and one more yelled, “Just don’t tell Mum!” the mysterious arm yanked my coven sister out of this world and into some other.

  The warrior woman tried to follow, but the portal slammed shut before she could reach it, leaving her standing there, her back and shoulders heaving from her exertions. She’d only gone a few feet into the room, but it was like she’d run miles.

  Elder Haldane, never one I would turn to for comfort, simply folded her arms across her chest and asked with great annoyance, “You couldn’t have moved a little faster, you useless girl?”

  It was not a good or smart thing to say.

  The warrior woman looked over her shoulder at Haldane and before I could take a breath, she was suddenly right in front of her, big hand reaching for Haldane’s throat. But the dragon was so very fast for such a large beast, he caught hold of the warrior woman by the waist and dragged her back.

  “Izzy, no!”

  “I should have killed her years ago. I should kill her now!”

  “You can try,” Haldane said. “And I remember quite well that my magicks cannot hurt you.” She pointed at the dragon. “But I can hurt him. I can tear the scales from his back and make my own armor.”

  At Haldane’s words, the warrior woman exploded, nearly getting away from the dragon who held her. I knew he was strong even in his human body, but gods. This woman. Her strength was . . . terrifying.

  “I will kill everyone here!” the warrior bellowed, shaking me to my very soul. “I will bring the walls of your temple down and pick my teeth with your bones!”

  I cannot lie. I was so terrified, I couldn’t move. I couldn’t scream. Although I quickly realized it wouldn’t have helped. None of my sisters was going to step in, and Elder Sister Elisa—the strongest amongst us—was out for the day.

  Gods, I felt so very alone.

  The dragon pulled the warrior woman farther back into the room and turned her to face him. He said something to her, but I could not hear it. But whatever he said seemed to calm her. For the moment.

  Then he closed his eyes and I knew that he was using his mind to talk to someone. But I was not powerful enough—or brave enough—to find out who that might be. It only took a few seconds; then he opened his eyes and said, “We have to go.”

  “Go?” the warrior woman asked.

  “Aye. Trust me.”

  Calmer now, the warrior woman nodded and faced them. I tried to shrink as far back into the wall as I could, praying she wouldn’t even see me.

  She didn’t. Her gaze was focused solely on Elder Sister Haldane. The warrior woman walked toward her and had just passed when Elder Haldane rolled her eyes and made the softest sound. As if she’d clicked her tongue against her teeth. I always heard a louder version of that when I did something to disappoint her. But this time, it was so faint, I didn’t think anyone could hear it.

  But the warrior woman did hear it and her fist slammed into the side of Elder Sister Haldane’s face with such speed and force that I could only gasp. The Elder Sister went down hard, landing on the floor so that her nose was broken in the process. Just as her cheek and jaw were shattered by that big fist.

  Then, making her own sound of disappointment with her tongue against her teeth, the warrior woman sauntered out. The dragon began to follow, but briefly stopped to nod at me and mutter, “Sorry about that.”

  I just nodded back. What else could I do? Except wait until it was safe and then spend the next hour with my fellow sisters trying to wake up Elder Sister Haldane. . . .

  Chapter Three

  Annwyl the Bloody, queen of Southland territories, rode into Baron Pyrs’s courtyard, stopping in front of the big stone steps that led into the castle where the meeting was to take place.

  “Are you sure you should be doing this?” her general commander, Brastias, gently asked.

  Annwyl patted her horse’s neck. “I’m going to meet Baron Pyrs, not get into a pit fight.”
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  “Are we really sure about that?”

  Annwyl gritted her teeth, her lip curling. She knew what Brastias was really saying to her. “Do you really think that you, of all people in the universe, can handle this without removing someone’s head? You? Really?”

  It was a tone that Annwyl had been hearing for quite a long time. A very long time. In years, she was nearly . . . ? Gods. Fifty? Maybe more. She’d lost track. Not because she’d become so doddering that it had all been lost in her head, but because she’d stop caring. When she looked in the mirror, she still saw a woman of less than thirty winters. Not because she was blind to her aging, but because of a gift from Rhiannon the White. A gift that would—should she not die in battle or from an assassin’s blade to the back—allow her to age much more slowly than other humans, the way dragons do. So that she and her black dragon mate, Fearghus, could grow old together.

  Although Fearghus often suggested that Annwyl “played with death far too much” to keep him company for another six or seven hundred years.

  But what did Fearghus expect her to do? She was queen of the Southlands. A title that Annwyl did not take lightly. Her people meant far too much to her, which was why, for the last few years, Annwyl had been trying so hard not to be as . . . what was the word her battle lord often used? Oh, yes. Ridiculous! Dangerously ridiculous. Stupidly ridiculous.

  It was no secret Annwyl had a bit of a temper. During war times, when she was busy protecting her children, Annwyl knew she could be a tad . . . touchy. But her battle lord and steward, Dagmar Reinholdt, Beast of the Northlands, had made a very good point. If she were to continue to protect her children—now off in different regions of the world, learning important skills so that one day they’d be ready to lead in Annwyl’s stead—she would have to learn to be a “proper” royal.

  A “proper” queen.

  Not some screaming, mad noble bent on destroying everyone and everything that even looked at her wrong. But a nice, normal noble that people didn’t automatically fear and despise.