Authors: G. A. Aiken

How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (15 page)

BOOK: How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

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Queen Rhiannon sat down beside her youngest offspring on the hill that overlooked the castle of Garbhán Isle and the surrounding grounds. The last time she’d sat here with her son, he’d been making the very nasty transition from child to adult. Now, as she looked up at the profile of that face, she saw what that change had cost him. There were no longer any soft lines there. No longer any perfect, smooth human skin. Instead, his jaw was strong and she could see that it had been broken at least once. His cheekbones were now sharp, and he had scars on his neck and face, which meant steel blades had cut past hard scales to the flesh underneath.

When she’d sent tasks to the Mì-runach, she’d had to struggle not to think of her son possibly being part of the team they’d send in to accomplish them. The thought of him running, screaming, into enemy territory, wearing no armor, and destroying all in his way until he reached his goal was something that often kept her up at nights. Not only what might physically happen to him, but what could change him. What could turn him into a dragon she’d rather not speak to, or hear from, or ever admit was her offspring.

In other words, would being a Mì-runach make him into a bastard?

Of course it had been hard to tell at evening meal. What with her mate and elder male offspring picking on him so. Éibhear hadn’t said much. Just kept eating, until he’d finally gotten up and walked out. Then she’d been forced to hear all the arguing between her sons and their mates. Honestly, did that ever
end
? But at least those human females did what they could to protect Éibhear.

Rhiannon readied her speech. The speech she’d given more than once over the years to Éibhear and, when they were much younger, to her older sons. The one that included things like:

“I’m sure your father didn’t mean that.”

“Of course your father loves you.”

“No. He didn’t try to sell your egg to the highest human bidder.”

“And of course, he never tried to kill you while you slept!”

She readied that speech, but before she could recite it as she’d been doing for the last few centuries, her son said, “Izzy didn’t come to dinner.”

Rhiannon blinked, closed her mouth. “No. Morfyd said she was tired and wanted to sleep.”

“But she’s not in her room.”

“She has a house now.”

Her son finally looked at her, those bright silver eyes curious. . . as always. Especially when it came to Iseabail.

“A house? Izzy has a house?”

“Gwenvael had it built for her. It’s just outside of town.” Rhiannon leaned in a bit and said low, “I think she was feeling a little crowded here.”

“Talaith?”

“The twins. They’re appallingly nosey.” When her son only stared at her, she added, “Not like me!”

He grunted and looked back out over the land. “I bought a castle.”

“Whatever for?”

“I like sleeping in a bed.”

“You can have beds in caves.”

“I have a cave, too. But I wanted a castle.”

She shook her head. “Just like your grandfather. I couldn’t believe when your father kidnapped me and took me to Ailean’s
castle
rather than a cave. Imagine! An entire dragon family
forced
to live in a castle.”

“Must you always point out you were kidnapped by our father?”

“I was.”

“Dad says you were tossed on his doorstep like so much royal trash. And you were haughty about it, too.”

“I was not haughty. I’m just better than him. Once he understood that, we were fine.”

And then, there it was. The thing she’d been missing for so long now. Éibhear the Blue smiled.

“I missed you, Mum.”

“I missed you, too.” She rested her head against his arm, marveling at the size of the muscle under her ear. “And I’m glad you’re home. At least for a little while.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

After her friends left, Izzy cleaned off the table, gave Macsen a break outside, and washed up. She was about to slip into bed when a knock on the door had her throwing a nightdress over her naked body and grabbing her sword. She cracked the door open a bit, but she immediately lowered her weapon.

“Yes?”

“I had a bad dream.”

Izzy opened the door but blocked the way so her sister couldn’t walk in. “You had a bad dream?”

“Yes.”

“So you walked all the way over from the castle, in a nightdress and robe, so that you can sleep in my bed?”

“Yes.”

“The stuffed bear is a nice touch.”

“Thank you.”

“And you came here alone?”

“No, no. The twins are with me.”

Izzy leaned out and looked around. “The twins are where?”

“In the trees.”

“Why . . .” Izzy glanced up, trying to understand this. “Why are they in the trees?”

“To sleep.”

“They don’t want to come in?”

“They like to sleep in trees. I, however, do not.” Rhi tightened her arms around her body. “Getting colder . . .”

“You just expect me to kick Macsen out?”

“Macsen adores me!” Rhi pushed her way through. “You’re so mean!”

Laughing, Izzy stepped out and said to the trees, while hoping not to disturb her nearby neighbors, “You can sleep on my floor.”

“No thank you,” came back to her. She shrugged and went inside, closing the door behind her but leaving it unlatched. She knew if the twins didn’t come inside, they would stay in the trees all night, ensuring Rhi’s safety.

Izzy walked into her bedroom to find her sister wrestling with Macsen on the bed, the dog trying to get the stuffed bear she’d brought along with her.

“Give it, you vile beast!”

“If you two aren’t going to play nice . . .”

“You two?”

Macsen tore the bear from Rhi’s hands, leaped off the bed, and began to prance around the room. Almost like a small horse.

“Now you’re just being mean, Macsen!”

“That’s it.” Izzy held her hand out. “Toy. Now.”

Macsen stopped, stared at her. “
Now.
”

He spit the toy at her feet and Izzy swiped it up, putting it on a shelf that, in theory, he shouldn’t be able to reach.

“On the bed,” she ordered. And to her sister, “Under the covers. No crowding.”

Giggling, Rhi dived under the sheets. Knowing her sister was so happy to see her really did mean a lot to Izzy. As a general, there were days her men loved the sight of her, and other days when they absolutely dreaded it. But no matter the day, Rhi was always excited. Izzy got in the bed behind her sister.

“Your feet are freezing!” Rhi complained.

“Then you should have stayed in your own bed, whiner.”

As soon as Izzy relaxed, Rhi was there, her arms wrapping around her sister’s waist, her head against Izzy’s shoulder.

“You were missed at dinner,” Rhi said into the dark.

“I know. I’m sorry I didn’t come.” Izzy hugged her sister a little tighter. “I just . . . couldn’t face it. I knew you’d understand.”

“Oh, I did! I wish I could miss dinner more often.” She was quiet for a moment, then added, “Uncle Éibhear looked particularly disappointed.”

“Rhianwen—”

“Uh-oh. Full name used.”

“Exactly. So hear me well, sister. There is nothing and will be nothing to discuss when it comes to
your
Uncle Éibhear. Do you understand?”

“I do.”

“We can’t mention him at all?” a male voice said from the dark and Izzy quickly realized that the twins were now in her room, on her bed. Stretched out across the bottom of it.

“I thought you two were going to sleep in the trees.”

“It was less comfortable than we thought it would be,” Talwyn said around a yawn.

“So we came in,” Talan added.

“And where’s the dog?”

“Between me and Talwyn.”

Rolling her eyes, Izzy snapped at Macsen, “Good protection there, you dozy bastard.”

“Ssssh,” Talwyn whispered. “He’s asleep.”

Deciding there was no point in fighting this, she closed her eyes and tried to go to sleep.

She knew the attempt would be a waste of time, however, when the giggling started, followed by the complaining about the giggling, and then the snoring. By the gods, the snoring!

Chapter 14

“You look like battered shit.” Light brown eyes glared up at him and Éibhear quickly held up his hands. “Just an observation.”

“Well, you can take your observation and shove it up your big, fat—”

“Happy morn, Uncle Éibhear!” Rhi nearly shouted while jumping between him and Izzy.

“Hello, little niece.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look beautiful this fine morning.”

“‘You look beautiful this fine morning,’” Izzy sneered under her breath while Rhi showed off her dress.

“I think it’s the dress. Auntie Keita says the color brings out my eyes.”

Abruptly, Izzy stood tall and looked quite awake. “Keita’s here?”

“Aye. She arrived earlier this morning.”

“Good. Now maybe I can find out who the bloody hells summoned me here.”

“Are you still wondering about that?” Éibhear asked.

Izzy’s jaw tensed. “As a matter of fact, I am. And stop talking to me.”

“But you’re so friendly.”

Rhi pinched his arm and whispered, “Stop it.”

“But she makes it so easy.”

She sighed in disgust, and then looked behind Éibhear. “Morning, Frederik.”

“Uh . . . morning . . .” The boy frowned and they watched him stand there . . . frowning.

Finally, fed up, Rhi reminded him, “Rhianwen.”

“Right. Right.” He nodded. “Rhianwen. I just have to remember . . .” Then he flicked his hand in her general area, and Éibhear decided it was probably best not to ask what that meant.

Instead, he focused on the training ring nearby. In the ring was Talwyn and one of the Kyvich witches. A woman with black tattoos on her face and arms, and, if Éibhear was seeing correctly, several fingers missing from both hands. It looked as if those fingers had been hacked off.

Talwyn hefted a huge sword, but her right shoulder was too low. The Kyvich saw that as well and rammed her maimed hand against it. A hit that would have broken the shoulder of a strong human male.

“Straighten your shoulders, idiot! I’ve told you before!”

Talwyn readjusted her shoulders. The Kyvich walked around her, punched her in the back of her thigh. “Strengthen that leg or I’ll bleed you again.”

Without even looking away from Talwyn and her trainer, Éibhear reached out and caught hold of Izzy’s arm, yanking her back before she could clear the fence.

“Leave it,” he ordered her.

“That’s my cousin she’s slapping around,” Izzy snarled, trying to yank her arm away.

“You’re exhausted, you haven’t eaten, and you’re still mad at me, even though you lied and said you weren’t. You’ll just take it out on that poor, deformed witch.”

“She’s not deformed. She lost those parts of herself in battle. And I am
not
still mad at you. Just let it go already.”

“Rhi, you’re an excellent judge of liars. Has your sister forgiven me or is she just mollycoddling me while planning to beat up some helpless witch trying to assist my young niece?”

Rhi looked back and forth between them and said, “Why don’t I get you both some bread. You must be fairly starving! Be right back.” Then she was off toward the castle, moving more quickly than Éibhear had thought she’d be able in that long dress.“Release me,” Izzy ordered, not bothering to try to pull her arm away.

“Not unless you promise to play nice with the mortal enemies of your mother’s witch sisters.”

Izzy reached for the gold dagger she had tucked into her sword belt and, laughing, Éibhear released her. She didn’t pull the weapon, but she also didn’t try to go over that fence again. Instead, they stood next to each other and watched.

“She’s good,” Éibhear finally admitted, after watching his niece for nearly half an hour.

“She’s been good since birth. But she wants to be the best.”

“And her brother?”

“He just wants to be good. His father seems to think fucking is all he aspires to”—
like his Uncle Gwenvael
, remained unspoken—“but I don’t think he’s remotely as straightforward as he likes to pretend. Kind of like your sister—”

“Good morn to my beloved family!”

“Keita,” Izzy and Éibhear said together, and then laughed.

Izzy faced Keita.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Keita said, embracing Izzy. “Don’t you just look beautiful?” She stepped back, gripping Izzy’s hands, and looked her over. “Just,
just
beautiful.”

Nodding, Izzy asked, “What do you want, Keita?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.” She pulled Izzy close, slinging one arm around her shoulders. “I’m just so glad to see you. It’s been ages!”

“It was ten months ago. You wanted something then, too.”

“Aren’t you going to greet me, sister?” Éibhear asked from behind them.

“I’m still not talking to you.”

“Still? When did you start? The
not
talking, I mean, because usually I can’t get you to shut up.”

Snarling, Keita pulled her arm from Izzy’s shoulders and spun around, pointing an accusing finger at her brother. “I have nothing to say to you. In fact, I’m sure I’ll have nothing to say to you for the next several centuries!”

“And yet words keep spilling from your lips . . .”

Knowing well how ridiculous and pointless this could get, Izzy moved between the siblings and asked, “Keita, can you tell me who sent for me? Éibhear didn’t seem to know.”

“Well, I didn’t tell Éibhear to do anything. I told him
not
to come get you. That was for me and Ragnar. So that way we could have spent some time with you, talked, and simply enjoyed—”

“Keita,” Izzy cut in. “Who sent for me?”

“I did, which is why
I
was planning to come for you.”

Izzy shook her head. “Why would you send for me? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.” Again Keita put her arm around Izzy’s shoulders, pulling her in close. “I’d just like you to meet someone I think you’ll find really . . . interesting.”

Izzy yanked away from the dragoness. “Are you telling me you summoned me from a gods-damn
war
so that I could meet some male?”

“Not just any male. A royal human!”

Afraid she’d smack her own beloved aunt in the mouth, Izzy started to walk away, but Keita yanked her back with a surprising amount of strength for a dragoness known for her physical weakness.

“Now, now. I know what you’re thinking.”

“You really don’t. Or you’d get your hands off me.”

“You’re thinking that I’m talking about just some random, useless male that could barely give you an orgasm, much less beautiful jewels.” Izzy tried to walk away once more, but again she was yanked back. “But I’m talking about a male with much more potential than that. And he likes your type.”

Izzy was about to make another attempt at escape, but she stopped and looked at Keita. “My type?”

“Uh-huh. Your type.”

Not sure what she could mean, Izzy tried to guess. “You mean . . . my coloring?” With so few people from the Desert Lands venturing into Dark Plains, Izzy and her mum were often considered “exotic” by some males, based on their skin color alone.

“No. I mean more your . . . build.”

“My build?”

“She probably means those sturdy shoulders,” Éibhear tossed in.

“Why are you speaking when I’m no longer talking to you?” Keita snapped.

“You keep saying that,” he shot back, “but then you keep talking to me.”

“I guess I’m unclear,” Izzy cut in, desperate, “what you want from me.”

“It sounds like she’s trying to whore you out.”

Keita swung on her brother, her small fist hitting him in the chest. And Izzy cringed from the sound of cracking bones and watched Keita grip her hand and stomp her feet. “Damn you, Éibhear!”

“Why are you yelling at me? I’m not the one trying to whore out our niece.”

“I am not trying to whore out anyone! You overbearing bastard!”

“Now you’re calling me names? Where did our love go, Keita?”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I think I’m going to get first meal,” Izzy said.

“You’re not going anywhere, Iseabail. Not until we’re done talking.”

Izzy looked at her aunt. “Trust me, Keita. We’re done.”

Dagmar sat at the table, going over what would be needed for security during the upcoming harvest festival. Bercelak had already promised her several troops’ worth of his Dragonwarriors and all she needed now were the numbers from the human troops. Many more royals would be coming in and she wanted to ensure their protection. It would not do to have any of them assassinated while under the queen’s protection.

“Dagmar.”

“Oh, good. Brastias. Do you have those numbers I asked for?”

Morfyd’s mate and Annwyl’s commander general walked up to her. “I do. I just got them.”

He handed over the parchment and Dagmar quickly examined the numbers of troops that could be spared, her mind immediately organizing.

“This will work well. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Brastias turned away from her but then suddenly faced her again. “And before I forget, I can assume you’re done with those barracks? I’ll need them for the commanders who will be coming in with their troops.”

Dagmar looked up at the commander general. “What barracks?”

“The one you had your nephews in.”

“I’ll need to find out from them when they’re planning to leave before I can say with any certainty—”

“But they’ve already left.”

“What? What do you mean they’ve left?”

“They left last night some time. The gate guards told me.”

Confused, Dagmar slowly got to her feet. “They left without a word? Are you sure they didn’t just go hunting?”

“The guard asked because of Annwyl’s hunting restrictions until after the feast. They said they were going back to the Northlands—and to tell you ‘bye.’”

Talaith, who’d just walked over to the table with a bowl of hot porridge, stared at the pair. “Really? But I saw Frederik earlier. He was with Éibhear. Would they have left their cousin?”

Dagmar closed her eyes, her hands curling into fists, the parchment she still held crumpled into a ball. “Those
bastards!
They were planning this!”

She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. That she hadn’t seen this coming. That she’d wake up one morning and her nephews would be gone—but Frederik would remain. It was a family practice that the Reinholdts had become well known for. Bringing useless male family members for a little “visit” and then leaving without them. Dagmar knew all the signs. Knew that’s what was coming. But she’d been in the Southlands for so long, dealing with much more rational beings than her own brothers, that she’d ignored all those signs. And now she was stuck with that . . . oh!

“Calm down,” Talaith soothed.

Pressing her balled fists against her eyes—and her sudden headache—Dagmar snarled, “I will not calm down! I should have known they would do this. I should have known! They left that illiterate boy here with me and what the battle-fuck am
I
supposed to do with him?”

Brastias cleared his throat and Dagmar dropped her fists, not in the mood to hear any soothing words from him or Talaith. But she found grey eyes much like her own gazing at her from the Great Hall entrance. Frederik standing there with Keita, Izzy, and Éibhear, the entire room now silent, even the servants aghast.

Yet before Dagmar could say a word, Keita folded her arms over her chest, looked up at Éibhear, and smugly said, “You can’t tell me this is not worse than me whoring out Izzy.”

Talaith blinked. “Wait . . . you did
what?
”

Yawning, Ragnar walked out of the room he shared with Keita and headed toward the Great Hall. As he neared the stairs, he saw Rhianwen sitting at the banister, her long legs poking through the free space between the wood bars and hanging over the side. Her hands were wrapped around the bars and she peeked through to watch something in the Great Hall below.

Ragnar sat down next to her and without looking at him, she smiled and said, “Hello, Uncle Ragnar.”

“Hello, my dearest Rhi. What drama did I miss while I took a bath?”

“One second it was all quiet and I was just sitting here thinking.” She glanced at him, smiled. “I sit and think a lot.”

“I know. I like that about you.”

“Then Uncle Brastias came in and told Auntie Dagmar that her nephews had left in the middle of the night and left Frederik behind.”

BOOK: How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

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