Briec fell silent for a moment, then he answered honestly. “Yes. As a matter of fact, I was expecting that.”
Gwenvael shook his head. “It amazes me we have the same blood.”
Returning to the fruit and cheese in front of him, Briec muttered, “It amazes me I didn’t strangle you at birth. And why am I eating fruit? Where’s that horse?”
* * *
Arzhela stared down at the bowed golden head of her favorite loyal servant. Unlike that bitch, Talaith, Hamish of Madron came to her of his own free will. He wanted power and she could provide it…as long as he remained loyal to her.
As always, and like a good dog, he came when called.
“The time has come, my son.”
As was proper, he did not raise his eyes to look upon her. So she couldn’t see his face, but she could sense his smile, she made sure he understood—with her victory would come his power and ascension. “But there is much to be done. Is all prepared?”
“Nearly, my goddess. My best warriors have been dispatched to track down that peasant. And my army is nearly assembled. A few more details and we’ll be ready for your command.”
“Good.” She reached down and like her favorite hunting hound, she petted his head. “I know you will not fail me.”
“Never. My life is yours, m’lady. It has always been yours.”
She grinned and she knew he couldn’t see her fangs. “I know, child. I know.”
* * *
Another set of books dropped at Talaith’s feet. She cringed. “Éibhear!”
He stopped. “What?”
“I think I have enough books.”
“You sure?”
Talaith glanced around at the piles and piles of books that now surrounded her. Perhaps thirty books altogether. “I’m sure.”
“Well, if you’re sure.” He stared at the books, a deep frown on his handsome face. Clearly he didn’t feel confident she had enough to entertain her. Exactly how long did he think she’d be staying?
“Mind if I join you then?”
“Uh—” was all she managed before Éibhear, grinning, grabbed one of the books and sat on the floor, leaning against her chair.
“It’s nice that you’re here, Lady Talaith.”
Talaith barely stifled her laugh at the title he’d given her, knowing the blue dragon was being sincere. “Thank you, Éibhear.”
“Are you very miserable?”
Truth be told, she wasn’t miserable at all. Uncomfortable, yes. A tad wary, absolutely. And the sounds of Briec and Gwenvael constantly fighting had begun to seriously wear on her frayed nerves. But, other than that, she was hardly miserable.
Some might actually interpret her current feelings as rather…contented. Although that made no sense to her. Trapped in a cave with three human-eating dragons—she should be terrified beyond all reason.
But she wasn’t.
“Lady Talaith?”
Smiling, she reached over the arm of the chair and patted one of Éibhear’s enormous shoulders. “I’m not miserable, Éibhear. And you don’t have to call me lady. I’m not, actually.”
“Aren’t Nolwenn witches royalty?”
Now she did laugh. “Hardly. We’re very political, that’s true. We’ve been the advisors of many kings and queens over the centuries. But no Nolwenn witch born has been of royal blood.”
“Ah. Well, you still seem like royalty to me.”
“You’re very sweet.”
“I know.” He leaned his head back so he could look at her, his blue hair falling across her arm and legs. “I’m the nice one.”
“Are you now? And Gwenvael? Which one is he?”
“He’s the whore.”
Enjoying the conversation immensely, Talaith relaxed back in her chair, her legs tucked up under her. The wool dress she wore had been waiting for her on a chair beside her bed when she woke up that morning. She didn’t know which brother left it for her, and she wasn’t about to ask…but even she had to admit it looked wonderful on her. “And Briec?”
“The warrior.”
Unable to stop herself, she snorted. “Is he? Really?”
Éibhear eagerly turned around so he could rest his arms on Talaith’s lap and lean in close. By the Dark Gods of Fire, she’d never seen arms that large before. “Really. He’s fought great battles for many years.”
“And who did Briec battle? Some of my poor fellow humans?”
Solemnly, Éibhear answered, “To be honest, Briec doesn’t consider fights with humans as battles. I think he sees that more as hunting. Or a snack that runs.”
“What a lovely thought.”
“My brother’s battled other dragons. Those who would dare challenge our mother’s throne. And he’s never been defeated. Not once. They’ve written songs about his conquests and…uh, Talaith that really hurts.”
Talaith looked down to see she’d reached over and gripped a handful of Éibhear’s hair. “Oh. Sorry.” She released him, absently petting his head. “Did you say your mother’s throne?”
“Aye.”
“Your mother is, um, the Dragon Queen?” One of the most brutal and powerful killers in the known world and Talaith somehow ended up in her children’s laps. Good one, Talaith.
“Aye. Queen Rhiannon of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar. First Born Daughter of Queen Addiena. First Born White…”