Brannie crawled into his lap, placing her knees on either side of his hips. She took the ale. “And drinking.” She took one more swig and handed it back to him.
Watching her, Aidan took a drink. When he lowered the bottle, Brannie put her arms around his shoulders and leaned in. She kissed him, long and deep, and Aidan immediately dropped the bottle so he could put his arms around her.
He pulled her in tight, automatically lifting his hips. They were both still dressed and yet he was already trying to fuck her. To be inside her.
Their kiss got deeper, more intense. Her hands moved to his hair. He gripped her waist. They began panting, clinging to each other.
That’s when Brannie jerked back, her breath harsh.
“What?” he asked, almost barking at her. He didn’t want to stop.
“This is it. Tonight.”
“This is what?”
“The end of it. You and me. This is our last night.”
“Gods, are we dying?” He began to panic. “Did you have a vision?”
“No!” She briefly closed her eyes, tried to calm down her breathing. “What I mean is this will be our last night of fucking. All right?”
“Uh . . . well . . . if you’re sure.”
“I’m sure. I’m positive!” Now she sounded like she was trying to convince herself. “All right?”
Aidan couldn’t help but feel that Brannie was forcing herself to do this. Forcing herself to break off what they had because she didn’t want to deal with how she truly felt.
He knew he could fight her on this. Spend all night trying to get her to see reason, but he also knew that would never work. Not with Brannie. He’d just have to wait it out. Let her figure it out for herself.
But until she did . . . they had tonight.
And they had ale.
“All right.” He grabbed the bottle again, lifted it. “To our last night.”
She let out a relieved breath and smiled. “To our last night.”
* * *
Gaius Lucius Domitus found a quiet spot away from all the camp activity and sat down, his back against a tree stump.
He opened his mind and, finally, after months of no contact for the safety of everyone, he called to his sister.
Agrippina.
Gaius?
He smiled at just hearing her voice in his head.
It’s done, sister.
She’s . . .
It’s done.
Aggie was quiet and he knew she was dealing with the realization that the She-dragon who’d held her hostage for politics and tortured her for amusement was now dead. Dead and suffering in whatever hell she’d ended up in.
Will you be home soon? Aggie finally asked.
Back to Garbhán Isle first, then home. But if you want, you can meet me at Queen Annwyl’s—
No, thank you, she immediately cut in. I’ll just wait until you get home.
All right.
And I assume you’re bringing that Rider with you?
Gaius laughed. You know my mate adores you.
She calls me the weak one!
With affection!
Oh, shut up and go to sleep.
I am tired. I’ll talk to you when we arrive back in the Southlands.
All right. And Gaius . . .?
Uh-huh.
I love you, brother.
And I love you, sister. Forever and always.
* * *
The two suns rose and Brannie instantly woke up. And, as soon as she did, she wished she didn’t have to.
She’d had too much to drink, that was for sure, but it didn’t matter, she’d had a great time. And now it was over. Done. She could walk away from Aidan and not look back. They’d just be good friends from now on with no regrets.
Pleased with that, she started to get up. She knew she’d have to get her troops moving. Bercelak wanted them heading back to Garbhán Isle in the next few hours and she wasn’t about to be the one to get on the wrong side of her cranky uncle.
But when she tried to get up, she realized Aidan’s arm was around her, holding her tight.
Laughing a little, she reached down to pull his arm away. But instead of human flesh . . . she felt scales under her talons.
Brannie froze, eyes wide. Especially when she realized that Aidan wasn’t just holding her . . . he was inside her. And his tail was entangled with her own.
“That mother—”
* * *
“—fucker!”
Aidan snapped awake, his arm reaching out for his sword, assuming he was under attack.
And he was . . . from Brannie.
“We had a deal!” she screamed at him.
“What?”
“You lying, son of a—”
Aidan grabbed her forearms to stop her from tearing his scales off and . . . and . . .
Oh, shit.
Aidan looked down at himself. He was dragon. Brannie was dragon.
And his cock was still wet.
Brannie swung at him, but Aidan rolled away and to his feet. They squared off against each other on either side of the cove.
“You tricked me!” she accused.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me! You got me drunk and you tricked me! But that doesn’t mean anything! That means nothing!”
“I tricked you? I got you drunk? Because suddenly I’m a human male and naturally do horrible things to females?”
Aidan used his tail to grab the bottle of Northlander ale. He held it in front of Brannie and flipped it over. Half the bottle—the remainder—poured out.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” she asked.
“I’ve seen you put away three bottles of Rider ale that left you almost comatose. But half a bottle of Northlander ale that we shared? You might as well be drinking water.”
“Your point?”
“You weren’t drunk. We both knew what we were doing last night. We both remember every second of it. And since we’re putting it out there—”
“Don’t you dare say it.”
“—I’m in love with you. There. Said it. Now what? Now what are you going to do, Captain?”
The fireball hit Aidan right in the face and a lesser dragon would have been knocked back for miles, but his bastard brothers used to throw fireballs at him as entertainment from the time he could crawl.
But when the flames subsided, Brannie had flown off, leaving Aidan alone by the bay.
Head bowed, he took a moment to calm down. He wasn’t about to chase after her. Capture her. Chain her up. Demand she listen.
No, no. That’s how other dragons did things. Aidan was not like other dragons. He’d always known that long before Rhiannon the White had said as much to him upon their first meeting.
But he’d be damned if he’d let Branwen the Awful just storm out of his life!
If that crazy She-dragon thought it was over, she was very, very wrong.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Bram the Merciful stood on the top step and watched as Ghleanna dropped to the ground. She pulled in her wings, shifted to human, and walked toward him. Right behind her landed Brannie, and Bram let out a breath he’d been keeping in far too long.
Mother and daughter walked toward him, but Brannie was walking faster and Bram quickly realized his lovely daughter was pissed beyond all rational thought.
“Brannie?” he said as she walked past.
She stopped, came back, kissed Bram on the cheek, and then disappeared into the castle.
Ghleanna smirked as she walked up to him and hugged him tight.
“What’s happening?”
Laughing, she said, “You don’t want to know. I’ll just say . . . stay out of your daughter’s way for a bit.”
* * *
Celyn walked into the bedroom he shared with Elina Shestakova and stopped to stare at his baby sister’s feet sticking straight up in the air on the other side of the bed. He was sure it was her feet not only because of the size but because of the scar from where Celyn once
bit her during a family brawl.
He moved farther into the room and found his sister was bent so that her head and most of her torso were under the bed.
Celyn placed his travel bag and sword in a corner, faced the bed, and took off running. When he was near the bed, he jumped, arms and legs spread wide, so that he landed hard on the mattress.
“Motherfucker!” his sister screamed out, the lower half of her body rolling forward so that her legs slammed into the floor.
Celyn laughed, even when his sister scrambled onto the bed and began pummeling him with her fists.
As he used his arms to protect his face, Elina and Kachka walked into the room, speaking to each other in their native language. Elina grabbed her bow and a quiver of arrows and left. Probably to do some hunting with Kachka.
“What, Kachka?” Celyn called out. “You can’t say hello?”
Kachka stopped in the doorway. “You are busy getting slapped like whore by own sister. Did not want to disturb.”
Elina closed the door, leaving Celyn alone with his baby sister and, by then, Brannie had worn herself out.
She stopped swinging her arms and dropped next to him, the pair gazing up at the ceiling.
“Feel better?” Celyn asked.
“What made you think something was wrong?”
“You only go upside down when you’ve had a bad day. The last time I saw you like that, you were pissed because Mum wouldn’t let you start your Dragonwarrior training. So what’s wrong now? Keita?”
“No. We found a way to work together.” Brannie turned her head to look at him. “Did you know she was a Protector of the Throne?”
“Everyone knows she’s a Protector of the Throne. I’ve told you myself that she was a Protector of the Throne, but you would just giggle and say, ‘Go on!’ After a while, I stopped trying to convince you.” He bumped her shoulder with his own. “Now tell me. What’s bothering you? It’s not a male, is it?” He frowned in disgust. “Please tell me it’s not a human man.”
“Gods, give me some credit!”
“But it is a male?”
“It’s nothing.”
“It’s not Caswyn, is it?”
Brannie snorted. “No. It’s not Caswyn.”
“Don’t give me that tone. You’re the one who’s always liked them big and stupid. Just tell me if you need me to beat someone up.”
“No.” Brannie scratched her head. “Probably not.” She let out a breath. “We’ll see.”
* * *
Aidan easily found his baby sister by searching in the rafters of the queen’s stables. She was curled into a corner, doing her best to stay as hidden as possible.
“Have you been living up here since I left?” he asked when he’d finally tracked her down.
Orla rubbed her nose with the back of her hand, smudging dirt across her lower cheek. “I like it up here.”
Aidan sat down on one of the wood beams across from his sister. “Where’s our mother?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in—”
“Years?”
“Months. I don’t think she’s missed me, though.”
“I hear there’s going to be celebrations tonight in the Main Hall. Are you coming?”
Before Aidan could even finish that question, his sister’s face was curling into an expression of utter disgust at even the suggestion.
“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to come.”
“Good.” She had her legs pulled close. Her arms around her calves, her chin resting on her knees. “I’m glad you’re alive.”
“Me too.”
“Still . . . something’s wrong. What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.”
“I am.”
“Aidan?”
“Hmm?”
“With the war over . . . will we have to go back?”
“You mean to Stone Castle?”
Stone Castle was the home of the House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah, where Aidan’s kin had lived for centuries. The castle itself was built from the mountain face. But then the Zealots had launched an attack and Aidan’s mother, sisters, and one brother had fled to Garbhán Isle. His father, as far as Aidan knew, was still living among the dwarves deep inside the Western Mountains. And his brother Ainmire, who’d joined with the Zealots, even going so far as to remove his eyes . . .
Well, Aidan wasn’t exactly sure, but chances were great he was long dead.
“Don’t worry, little sister,” Aidan promised, “the queen currently owes me a great debt. So even if our mother wants you to go back with her, I’ll make sure you don’t leave Garbhán Isle unless you absolutely want to.”
His sister’s smile was small but brilliant because she used it so rarely.
“Thank you, Aidan.”
Aidan reached out and grabbed his sister’s hand. “Anything for you.”
* * *
Gwenvael walked up the castle stairs with his five youngest offspring hanging from him like monkeys. They’d met him out in the courtyard and he knew that no one had told them he’d arrived. They had simply known.
Laughing, the six of them made their way into the hall but stopped when a loaf of bread flew past Gwenvael’s head. Although, for once, it hadn’t been directed at him.
“Daddy!” Arlais called out when she spotted him. “Thank the gods!” She rushed over to him and said, “Now that you’re back, you can get control of this woman.”
“You mean your mother?”
“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.”
“I did,” Dagmar said, still sitting at the dining table, working on a stack of papers and attempting to enjoy her breakfast. “And yet I foolishly allowed you to live.”
“Oh!” Arlais snarled. “You are a horrid mother!”
“You’re right. I am a horrid mother. But now that your aunt Keita is back, you can feel free to head off to the Northlands with her and forget you ever knew me.”
“What? You don’t think I will?”
“I’m hoping you will.”
“Fine! That’s what I’ll do!”
“Well,” Dagmar suddenly bellowed back, “there’s the door! Don’t let it hit you in your snobby ass!”
Lifting her skirts, Arlais stormed out the double doors. Grabbing her stack of papers, Dagmar stormed from the Main Hall.
“I am so glad to be home!” Gwenvael announced to his giggling daughters.
A few seconds later, Var walked into the Main Hall from the back hallway. But as soon as he saw his father, he stopped, sighed, and stared.
Gwenvael threw his arms wide, a daughter still attached to each one, and cheered, “Son!”
Cringing, Var turned around and followed after his mother.
Gwenvael looked down at his grinning daughters. “So glad.”
* * *
Talaith was looking at a bolt of cloth for new dresses for her daughters. Dagmar was planning a party and she knew both her girls would want to dance and look beautiful.
Although the thought that Dagmar was planning a party shocked Talaith. That Northlander was usually the last one to enjoy a party. But then she’d found out the Eastlander royals were still in town and it suddenly made sense. Dagmar was nothing if not a politician.
“You weren’t even around to greet me, little witch!” Talaith heard from behind her.
She turned and gazed up into the violet eyes of the dragon she would love until she was called home to her ancestors. And with complete love and adoration she barked back, “When did I become the royal greeter of Garbhán Isle?”
“You’re my mate, woman! You should have been waiting for me with bated breath.”
“I have more important things to do than tend to your needs.”
“Such as?”
“Anything is more important than your needs!”
“Peasant!”
“Arrogant bastard!”
He smiled at her. “I’m glad I’m home.”
&nbs
p; Talaith ran into his arms.
“I’m glad you’re home, too,” she whispered against his neck.
* * *
Rhiannon was sitting on her throne, bored out of her mind because she was being forced—literally forced—to be a gods-damn royal when her Mì-runach suddenly swarmed around her.
“Oooooh!” she giggled. “Activity!”
She watched royal dragons rush out of the chamber or attempt to hide in small caverns. Everyone seemed to be panicking and she had to admit, she was enjoying it all immensely.
Then Bercelak stomped into the chamber. His scales were damaged and his glower was so bad that it would terrorize the bravest dragon.
He came right to her, and even her Mì-runach moved out of the way once they realized it was Bercelak the Great and not some assassin.
Without a word, he put a metal cuff around her neck, took hold of the chain, and dragged Rhiannon from her throne and to their bedchamber.
* * *
After watching a laughing Rhiannon the White dragged from her own throne by a half-mad dragon, Xinyi looked at her son and asked, “Why are we here again?”
“Shhhh,” Ren said, leaning in close. “Ma. Be nice.”
“It was a valid question. I mean, what did I just see?”
“Love.”
Xinyi curled her lip in disgust. “Gods, these peasants.”
“Rhiannon is a queen.”
“Fine. Barbarians then. When are we leaving?”
“After the party.”
“Must we go?”
“Yes. Now be nice.”
Trying not to act disgusted by dragons who insisted on living in caves when they had gold to buy very nice palaces, Xinyi forced a smile at some Southland lord or other nodding at her in greeting and glanced around the chamber until she saw who was sitting behind her.
Blinking in surprise, Xinyi asked, “What are you lot doing here?”
Her eldest daughter frowned, and her siblings walked away, making obvious sounds of annoyance.
“We’ve been here,” Fang reminded her.
“Have you? Doing what?”
“Fighting in the battle with your army. Helping to save the world from a mad god. Remember?”
“No. But that was very nice of you.” She reached back and patted her daughter’s paw with her own. “Aren’t you a good . . . uhhhh . . .”
“Daughter?” Fang asked with a sneer.
“I know you’re my daughter. I remember! Usually.”