Bring the Heat

The territorial lines that divided Annwyl’s lands from that of the Western Horse Riders went from soft grasslands covered in rushing rivers and peaceful lakes to harsh marshlands in the blink of an eye.

No wonder Annwyl didn’t try to claim any of this territory as her own. If it weren’t for the slaves the Western Riders insisted upon having—and selling—Kachka doubted that the queen would bother with anyone in this region unless she was specifically called upon.

It wasn’t that it was ugly land. It wasn’t. But it was dark and foreboding. The air thick, the land soft, the vegetation overwhelming.

This would be a harsh place to fight any war.

Their horses, unused to such muddy terrain, were miserable before they’d traveled more than a few hours, but Aidan brought their party to a stable where they could leave their horses until they were ready to return.

Once their horses were tended to, they set off on foot. But it was difficult going. So difficult, even Zoya stayed silent, focusing on where she stepped and how deep she might sink in.

Aidan was more surefooted, and they followed him, finally forming a single line rather than spreading out.

It was nearing suns-down when Aidan finally said, “Up here.”

They followed him up a very small hill and when they reached the top, Kachka had to admit her surprise at what she saw.

They’d reached the very edge of the Western Mountains and jutting from them was a beautiful castle made entirely from mountain rock.

“My great grandfather and a few dragon stonemasons built this right from the mountain. Took them several years but well worth it.”

“I can’t believe you left,” Brannie said.

Aidan chuckled and began his descent down the hill. “When you meet my family, Branwen the Awful, you’ll understand that I had very little choice in the matter.”

The armor gleamed. The soldiers stood ready. Dragons in human form guarded the front. Dragons in their natural form, but still in full armor, flew around the castle walls.

A swampy moat circled the front of the building, and Gaius was sure that there was something in there ready to eat whatever was thrown in.

The drawbridge was already down, but a line of guards stood ready on both sides.

“Very well protected,” Gaius murmured to Aidan.

“My father,” he replied, “is very . . . concerned with the safety of his lands.”

“Does he fear attack from Sovereigns?”

“From everyone.”

They moved through the lines of dragons, each soldier dropping to his knees as Aidan passed.

“They treat you like a king,” Brannie noted.

“No. They treat me like a prince. My father they treat like a king.”

Gaius knew that would be something that truly bothered Rhiannon. It wasn’t just loyalty she relied on, but the respect that went along with being a born queen. She didn’t take it for granted, and she wouldn’t ignore someone else being treated like the ruler of her lands.

But Gaius would have to figure out how to give her that information at a later date.

They passed through the gateway, over a bridge, and when Gaius glanced over the side, he saw something sliding through the murky water beneath. They moved through the courtyard, filled with still more soldiers, and to the castle proper.

As they entered, even Gaius had to admit he was impressed. He’d thought nothing could parallel the palaces and villas of his home, but this place did manage to rival them. Everything, save for the wood furniture, was cut from the stone mountain. The walls, the floors, the balconies, the rooms, the stairs and banisters. But nothing was plain. No, intricate depictions of battles of old were cut into the stone. And after one passed the large front hall, it was all deep passages and caverns for dragons in their natural form to disappear into.

The whole thing was astounding, and Gaius admired the work that must have gone into it.

“Wait here,” Aidan ordered before disappearing deep into the caverns.

While they stood, waiting, Gaius noticed that the only one who had a hand on her weapon was Brannie. He had to admit, he found that odd. The House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah was still part of Rhiannon’s queendom, and Aidan’s father would risk much by losing that connection. Not only would he have to deal with the Cadwaladrs coming here and crushing his forces in the queen’s name, but then he’d have to worry about Gaius and his sister sending a few legions to help out. Even if Gaius and Rhiannon weren’t allies, it was still a dangerous game to play because neither of them would allow the Foulkes de chuid Fennahs to keep these lands as their own. It was too important a territory for that.

And yet . . . he didn’t mind that Brannie was feeling her most distrustful. That would definitely work in their favor. He was sure that not only did Branwen the Awful have her mother’s eyes . . . she had her battle instincts. Especially since she seemed to have gotten very little of Bram the Merciful’s peacemaking talents.

“Oh! We have guests. How wonderful!”

The She-dragon came down the stairs in human form, a gown of gold covering her from neck to feet. Her gold hair reached the entire length of her long back until it trailed behind her like a wedding veil.

She was stunning despite her age.

But those eyes. Some things could not be hidden and those eyes revealed all.

“I am Lady Gormlaith of the House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah, and who may all of you be?”

“Lady,” Brannie said with a slight head nod. “I am Branwen the Awful, Captain in the Dragon Queen’s Army. Daughter of Ghleanna the Decimator and Bram the Merciful.”

“Ah, yes, Captain. I am well aware of your name. I’ve heard much about you over the years. But why are you here?”

“I’m escorting King Gaius Lucius Domitus along with your son Ai—”

“King Gaius!” Hand against her chest, Gormlaith pushed past a startled Brannie and held out her hand. “How delightful to meet you!”

Gaius took the hand offered and kissed the back of it. “And you as well, Lady Gormlaith.”

“Oh, please. Just call me Gormlaith. And tell me you’re spending the night. I’d hate for you to run away too soon.”

“If you can accommodate us all, I’d love to stay.”

Those dead, cold eyes flickered over to the others. Her nose lifted the tiniest bit, but Gaius wasn’t sure which disgusted the royal more. The Outerplains Riders being in her beautiful home . . . or the Mì-runach. Or maybe it was just having a Cadwaladr here, since the royals had little use for what they’d oh so affectionately termed “the pit dogs of Southland dragons.”

“Well, of course. I’m sure we can find them something.”

“Wonderful.”

“Let me get a few servants to help you and we’ll get you settled. Then we’ll have to have a feast in your honor and you can meet my offspring and we can talk. Won’t that be fun?”

Gaius gave his best lying smile. “Delightful.”

Gormlaith clapped her hands, and fast-moving but very put-upon human servants rushed into the main hall.

When they neared the Riders, ready to take their fur capes and weapons, Kachka held up a blocking hand. “No, sheep.”

It was rude, but it did get her point across.

Gormlaith’s eyes locked on Kachka and she forced her own lying smile. “Hello. And you are?”