Which made him easy prey for the Iron dragon . . . and for Kachka.
“You want me to help him?” Kachka asked the young dragon, Celyn. The only thing Gaius knew about him was that he was a Cadwaladr and that his father was the wonderful Bram the Merciful. Unfortunately, Celyn’s mother was Ghleanna the Decimator. A true Cadwaladr was that one.
“Would it kill you to do something for our queens?”
“So I should fuck him?” Kachka asked, forcing Gaius to quickly look away before he started laughing.
“Wait . . . what?”
“That is why royal dragon complains. Because I will not fuck him to sleep. Are you saying I should fuck him to sleep?”
Now this would be where Bram the Merciful would smoothly extricate himself from the situation, probably removing Kachka with him. But the dragon was young and untrained.
“You couldn’t help him out a little?” the young dragon asked.
Gaius quickly dropped his head lower.
“He has hand.”
And now Kachka was not helping!
“But did you have to make him angry when you rejected him?”
“No. But it amused me to do so.”
“He is an ally of the queens.”
“So?”
“Does that matter to you?”
“No.”
“Can’t you just be nice to him?”
“You want me to fuck him for you?”
“No! That’s not what I mean, Kachka. I mean, just be nice to him. Polite. Try not to piss him off, yeah?”
“So you want me to use mouth?”
That’s when Gaius couldn’t keep it in anymore. He fell back on the bed laughing, and Kachka laughed with him.
“Really?” Celyn demanded. “I’m trying to help and you’re tormenting me?”
A slightly smaller, prettier version of Celyn sauntered into the room. Gaius knew her immediately. Branwen. He’d known her when she was still Branwen the Black. A young She-dragon with dreams of being a great warrior like her mother. Now, years later, after helping the queen and Iseabail rescue Gaius’s sister, she’d become Branwen the Awful. A name he’d heard she was quite proud of.
A well-respected captain in the Dragon Queen’s Army, Branwen was dressed from neck to toes in chain mail and leather, with a sword and several daggers on her belt, and a shield at her back. And from what Gaius had heard over the years, no matter the day or time, Branwen the Awful was always ready for battle.
“Ho, ho!” Branwen laughed as she stared at her annoyed brother. “Is the great Celyn the Charming trying to be in charge?”
Gaius had also heard that Branwen had not taken her brother’s promotion to the rank of sergeant major in the Queen’s Army well at all. He outranked her, although he was more a guard to the queen than a hardened battle warrior.
“I am in charge,” Celyn snarled at his sister. “At least of you, Captain.”
“What does his lordship want you to do, Kachka?” Branwen asked, ignoring her brother.
“Suck the cock of a king for the queens’ benefit.”
Branwen gasped, feigning horror, her free hand pressed dramatically against her chest. “Celyn!”
“I asked you to do no such thing, Kachka!”
Kachka shrugged. “They all think if there is available hole, they must fuck it.”
“That is not what I said!” Celyn argued.
Branwen shook her head. “Mum would be disgusted.”
“Don’t you have something to do, Captain?”
Branwen grinned. “Not at the moment.”
After another withering glare at his sister, Celyn again focused on Kachka. “I was just saying that King Gaius is our ally, and I need you to remember that.”
“I remember. I just do not care.”
Branwen giggled like a child while her brother tried his best to ignore her.
“I do not care if you care,” he snapped at Kachka. Everyone seemed to have forgotten that Gaius was right there. Right in front of them. Gods, he hadn’t been this entertained in ages. “I just need you to remember and treat him as befitting an allied royal.”
“By burning down his home, destroying his lands, and making his sons one of my many husbands? Because that’s how Daughters of the Steppes treat royals.”
“Allied royals?”
“If they piss us off.” Kachka shrugged. “Maybe he pissed me off.”
“Well, do me a favor,” Celyn said, staring Kachka in the eyes while he reached over and slapped his hand over his sister’s laughing face, “and pretend he didn’t piss you off.”
“Pretend? What is pretend?”
“Fake it. Just do that for me, Kachka. Please.”
“Fine. But only because my sister is forced to choose you as husband because she is weak and has no other options.”
Branwen laughed loudly behind his hand and repeated, “No other options! She has no other options!”
That’s when Celyn shoved his sister out of the room, her startled squeak surprising them all. She was a feared captain of the Dragon Queen’s Army after all.
“Please, Kachka,” Celyn pleaded.
“Yessss,” she hissed. “I will be nice to him.”
“Thank—” was all he got out before his sister grabbed him from behind, yanked him out of the room, and tossed him head first over the banister.
Gaius cringed when he heard the dragon hit the hard stone floor of the Great Hall.
“Crazed female!” Celyn yelled at his sister.
“King Gaius,” Branwen went on with a large smile. “It’s good to see you, as always.”
“You, too, dear Branwen.”
“Now if you’ll excuse me. I’m going to beat my brother to death.”
Kachka watched Branwen walk out and head toward the stairs.
“She will not really beat him to death,” Kachka felt the need to explain.
“You sound disappointed.”
Kachka shrugged. “I do not know if disappointed is right word, but it is close. . . .” She stared at him. “Did I give you enough entertainment before you go to bed?”
“Yes. You did. And it was amazing.”
“Now sleep. No one will bother you in this room. The sheep never come to this room.”
“Sheep? You call the servants sheep?”
“What would you have me call them?”
“People?”
Kachka waved that suggestion away and walked to the door. “Sleep well, royal.”
“No kiss good-night?”
She walked into the hallway, shaking her head. “Males. All of you are pathetic.”
“But you can’t blame us for trying.”
She smirked. “I blame males for all things. You deserve no less. Now sleep, dragon. And try not to burn house down with flame-y snores.”
Kachka closed the door, and Gaius stretched back out on the bed, arms above his head.
He was just starting to drift off when he realized something—Kachka Shestakova was really adorable when she was torturing others.
Zoya Kolesova finished writing her note on the parchment. Once done, she opened the top of her leather travel bag and smiled down at the white crow staring up at her.
“Hello, my lovely,” she cooed to the bird. She reached in and carefully removed it. While she held it in one hand, she used her other hand to wrap the note around its leg and secured it.