“I am.” And, with his gaze never leaving Ghleanna’s, “But there are limits to my mercifulness, I’m afraid.”
Chapter 18
Ghleanna waited for Feoras about five miles from where Rhiannon had tracked the bastard down. The queen’s skills had, as Bram had said, gotten mighty. It seemed she could track nearly any dragon she wanted without ever leaving Devenallt Mountain unless the fugitive had the protection of a witch as strong as she. And Rhiannon had tracked Feoras here, not more than fifteen miles from where he’d tried to kill Ghleanna.
As Bram had said, Feoras and the rest of the soldiers he’d bribed, were waiting for Bram to return so they could finish the job that had been started.
And here Bram was, relaxing next to a tree, still in his dragon form, quietly scratching away on some parchment. Did he ever pay attention to anything going on around him that wasn’t on a piece of paper or in a bloody book? She doubted it. But he seemed to have complete faith in her. He still trusted her to protect him and that was all she needed to know.
She heard Feoras and his soldiers moving through the trees. They were quiet enough but Ghleanna knew what to listen for. The flutter of a leaf, the warning of a bird . . . the slither of a tail.
Feoras came around a boulder, but he stopped when he saw Ghleanna standing there. He reared back in surprise, golden eyes blinking wide.
“Ghleanna?”
“Feoras.”
“I . . .” His gaze shifted and he saw Bram leaning against that tree, still writing—and blatantly ignoring him.
“You . . . ?” she pushed when he stopped speaking. “You . . . what? Thought I was dead?”
Feoras focused on her again. “I knew you wouldn’t go down that easy.” He leered. “You never did . . . go down easy.”
“Not unless I want to.” She moved forward, pulling out her axes, holding one in each claw. “I am going to stop you here.”
“You’re going to try.” Soldiers moved out of the trees, some stopping and staring at her, also seemingly shocked to see her alive. If she survived this, her name would be legendary. “You going to take us all on? Are you into that now?”
“Your disrespect to Captain Ghleanna,” Bram said from his tree, his voice soft, “offends me.”
“Does it now?” Feoras said with a laugh. “Oh, well. Don’t want to offend Bram the Merciful. He might bore us to death with his vast knowledge of nothing.” Feoras sauntered closer but not close enough to Ghleanna’s axes. “So, Mercy . . . you seem quite attached to the fair Captain. Tell me, did you two get close while she was trying to survive the wound I gave her?”
Bram continued to scribble away on his parchment. “We did. Very close. In fact—” he finally looked up from his papers but he gazed at Ghleanna—“I love her. Have for years.”
“Gods!” Feoras laughed. “Are you really that desperate, friend? Because the honest truth is, when it comes to getting under a Cadwaladr wench’s tail, the last thing you need to do is tell them you love them.” He eyed Ghleanna and she couldn’t believe she’d ever found him attractive. “That’s how it is for all of them, but especially Ailean’s offspring. All whores . . . just like their father.”
Ghleanna had heard it all before but, unlike her sisters, she never knew how to let it roll off her scales like rainwater. But that was before, wasn’t it? When she actually gave a centaur shit what other dragons thought. Now, however, she realized what her kin had been trying to tell her was true—she was a mighty She-dragon who could do better than Feoras the Traitor. A sad, jealous lizard not worthy of her time or her drunken whining. That being said, she also had no intention of letting Feoras goad her into a rash move. There was a plan, and she intended to stick with it.
But when Bram unleashed an explosion of flame that rammed into Feoras and half his soldiers, sending them flying back through the trees, decimating part of the forest in the process while setting fire to another part . . . she had to admit she was surprised. And rather impressed.
“What?” Bram asked her when she could only gawk at him. “I thought you wanted them over in that clearing so they were surrounded by your kin.”
“I . . . I did. It’s just I thought you were going to run and let them give chase. Not set the entire forest on fire.”
“I don’t run for anybody. I wouldn’t worry about the forest.” He glanced up at the sky. “It looks like it might rain. Besides, I warned you . . . my flame is mighty.”
“I thought you were embellishing.”
“I don’t embellish.”
“I see that now.”
They stepped through a wall of flames and into the clearing as Feoras and his fellow traitors got to their claws.
Feoras was angry now. Bram could see that. Because it was one thing to be bested by a fellow Dragonwarrior, even a female, but by a politician? No. He wasn’t having that.
More traitors landed in the clearing.
“They weren’t there,” one of the soldiers told Feoras, before his eyes locked on Ghleanna in surprise.
“Where are they, Ghleanna?” Feoras demanded. “We’ve been watching that kin of yours for days, knowing they’d lead us to the politician. And we both know they won’t leave you to fight alone with just this one by your side.”
“They’re waiting,” she told him.
“For what?”
“For me to kill you.”
That’s when Ghleanna threw the first battle axe. But Feoras was fast. He quickly stepped aside, and the axe hit the dragon behind him in the chest—killing him instantly.
“Bitch,” Feoras snarled.
“Come on, Feoras.” She swung her second axe in an arch. The flat of it slapping hard into the middle of her claw. “Let’s finish this.”
He roared and charged her and Ghleanna flew at him. They met, collided, and spun. When they landed, Ghleanna pulled away first and swung her axe. Feoras ducked, moved around her. She quickly turned, lifted her weapon, and blocked the sword aimed at her back.
More dragons surrounded Bram, but these were friends not foes.
“This has been coming,” Addolgar remarked while he watched. He’d never intervene in his sister’s fight unless her death was imminent. That was the Cadwaladr way.
“Aye,” Bram answered. “It has.”
“Were you two all right down there? With them Fins?”
“Aye. Quite all right. The Empress wants a truce with Rhiannon and her army came to worship Ghleanna.”
Addolgar shook his head. “How does the cranky cow manage to do that? A few days with her—and they’re ready to follow my sister into hell.”
Feoras slammed his fist into Ghleanna’s snout, sending her tripping back. But she stayed on her claws and struck again.
“What about you, peacemaker?” Addolgar asked.
Without taking his eyes off Ghleanna, “What about me?”
“Would you follow my sister into hell?”
“Wherever her soul goes, mine will follow.” Bram let himself briefly glance at Addolgar. “She means everything to me. But you already knew that.”
“Yeah. We already knew. The whole lot of us. But you’re so damn polite, we figured you needed a push.” He gestured at the growing number of watching dragons. “We never expected all this, though.”
“Nor I. Not for an alliance.”
“An alliance in writing. With dragons of the Desert Lands. You make that happen, and Rhiannon becomes the strongest dragon monarch in the last six centuries.”
When Bram only blinked, Addolgar added, “I’m not stupid, royal. No matter what you’ve heard.”
Ghleanna blocked another blow from Feoras’s sword. Spun, brought her axe down, and when he blocked it, brought her tail around and slammed the tip of it into a weak spot under his arm.
Feoras roared in pain and yanked his body away from her. He stumbled a few feet ahead of her, bringing his arm down to stop the flow of blood.
Ghleanna turned on her talons, swung her axe and imbedded it into Feoras’s spine.
The dragon whimpered, his body tensed. Ghleanna yanked out her axe and walked around him. Feoras dropped to his knees, gazing up at her once she stood in front of him.
She held out her free claw to Addolgar and he tossed his own axe to her. Ghleanna caught it, held it.
“Don’t, Ghleanna,” Feoras begged. “Please. Don’t.”
Ghleanna stared at the dragon for a moment. “I never loved you at all,” she murmured. “I know that now.
“Of course—” Ghleanna hefted both axes—“that makes this so much easier.”
She brought both axes together, not stopping until the blades met in the middle of Feoras’s neck. The dragon’s head popped off clean, landing on the ground at Ghleanna’s claws while blood shot out and covered his comrades.
She stepped back and slowly looked over the other warriors and soldiers who were waiting. Waiting for their next orders. Their next decision. Ghleanna gave it to them.
“Death to all traitors!”
Her kin roared in agreement before descending on Feoras’s foolish sycophants. She walked through the slaughter and over to Bram. He, again, leaned against a tree—waiting for her. And beside him stood her father.
“You off then, Da?” she asked.
“Aye. Too old for all this killing.” And to prove that, her father turned and brought his axe down on the head of a traitor that had gotten too close. Spun once more and cut off the legs of another.
He faced them again. “Need to get back to my rocking chair and some hot tea.”
“Clearly.” Ghleanna hugged her father. “Tell Mum I’m fine and when this is all done, I’ll be back to see her.”
“You better. She will track you down if you don’t.” Ailean smiled at Bram. “Take good care of her, royal. She means the world to me.”
“I will, sir.”
Her father walked off and Ghleanna looked at Bram.
“That—” and he motioned to the pieces of Feoras’s body—“was a bit showy.”
“I like to give the lads a bit of a show. It’s good for morale.”
He leaned down, pressed his snout against hers. They held like that a moment and then he told her, “You have more killing to do.”
“And I thought you’d try to stop me.”
“My mercy has never extended to traitors, Ghleanna.”
She stepped away from him, twisting her axes in both hands. “Then I’ll get to work.”
“Good. Because when we’re done here, we still have a contact to meet in Alsandair.”
“Overachiever,” she accused him with a grin, before she turned and killed every traitor in her path.
Chapter 19
The Sand Dragon King’s first born son and his entourage of fifty, a count that did not include his battalion of warrior dragons, gazed down at Rhiannon for several minutes. He said nothing as he watched the queen, then sniffed and turned from her.
Bercelak had his sword out and almost embedded in the Prince’s back but the black dragon was taken down by at least four of his brothers and three of his sisters.