Dragon on Top (12 page)

Chapter 11

“Fruit.”

Bram opened his eyes and stared at the big shiny fruit held up before him. “Yes, it is.”

“Plus bread and cheese. Hungry?”

Bram sat up, but immediately frowned. “Why is the area around your wound bruised?”

Ghleanna shrugged and bit into a big piece of bread.

“What aren't you telling me?”

“Nothing. Eat.”

Bram glanced down at himself. “I'm . . . naked.”

Ghleanna nodded, bit into a juicy piece of fruit.

“And when did that happen?”

“No idea.” She held out another piece of fruit. “Must say, though . . . I do like you naked.”

He took the treat from her hand. “Thank you. For the fruit and the compliment.”

“You're welcome.”

They ate in silence for a while, Bram busy trying not to stare. Gods, she was beautiful.

“Do you have much work to do today?” she asked.

“I'm afraid so. I heard from Rhiannon.” When Ghleanna frowned, he added, “Something to do with her increasing powers. Which are, I must admit, becoming daunting.”

“She'd been held back a lifetime because of her mother. She has much time to make up for.”

“I guess.”

“I wouldn't worry. Rhiannon's grandmother had that level of power and she managed it fine.”

“And Bercelak's there for balance. A rational thought in the chaos of Rhiannon's mind.” Ghleanna raised a brow at that and Bram shrugged. “I've never doubted the good your brother brings to our young queen's reign. I merely wish they wouldn't stick me in the middle of whatever they like doing. It's off-putting.”

“Then you shouldn't keep hugging her.”

“It's not me!”

Ghleanna laughed, bit into another fruit, and Bram noted, “You have your appetite back.”

“Had I ever lost it?”

“It was definitely diminished for a while there.”

Ghleanna stared at him for a moment. “You were very worried about me, weren't you?”

“Sword through the chest,” he said. “That may be normal for your kin, but not mine.”

“You and your lot—sit around drinking wine and discussing important things, I bet.”

“You'd be wrong. We sit around, drink wine, and argue. A lot.”

“Argue? You?”

“Raised to argue. Both my parents are lawmakers, and no Dragon Law is created without much discussion, debate, and arguing. Sometimes a fist fight, but those are rare—and never very impressive. Almost sad.”

Ghleanna shook her head. “And all your kind do it? Argue, I mean.”

“My mother can find reason to argue about a grain of sand. And my father doesn't think a meal is complete unless someone proclaims, ‘That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Where's your proof to that statement?' I don't mind so much now.” He sighed. “It was a little overwhelming, though, when I was only eight winters. My wings hadn't even unfurled.”

“Me and mine . . . we argue. But to back up your statement Cadwaladrs just need to be willing to take a claw to the face. Or a shield.”

“Aye. I remember that.”

Ghleanna blinked, frowning. “You were at our dinners?”

There was a pause and then Bram demanded, “Was I
entirely
invisible to you?”

“Well . . . not entirely.”

Deciding it was time to get to work, Bram began to get up. But Ghleanna caught his arm, her laughter annoying him even more.

“I'm teasing,” she said, pulling him back. “I swear.”

“Isn't it bad enough I assumed you'd always ignored me? Now I find out I was just invisible to you.”

“That's not true.” She put the tray of half-eaten food on the floor before taking his hands in hers. “I noticed you, Bram.”

“Don't lie.”

“I'm not. But you were a bit younger than me.”

“Only by half a century or so.”

“And I thought you liked my sister.”

“Maelona?”

“Yes. Maelona. Pretty, shy, insecure, scar-free Maelona.
That
Maelona.”

And she sounded wonderfully jealous.

 

 

“And you can stop smirking,” Ghleanna told him.

“I'm not.”

“Liar.” But he was an adorably cute liar. “Look, I just never thought—”

“I was good enough?”

Aghast, Ghleanna said, “That's not true!”

“It is.” Bram stretched out on his side. “All the Cadwaladrs are the same.”

“All the same what?”

“Snobs. You're all snobs.”

Ghleanna's mouth fell open.

“Don't look at me like that.”

“
We
are snobs?”

“Snobs. Big snobs. If one can't handle a sword or an axe—not worthy.”

“That's not true.”

“It is true. And what does your brother call me? The thinker? As if it's a disease. An ailment I need to be cured of.”

“You can't listen to Bercelak. He's a mean bastard and he treats everyone as if they have ailments in need of cure.”

“Snobs.”

“We are not. We're not of royal blood.”

“Snobs.”

“We're just poor warriors.”

“Who are snobs. It's all right, though.” He reached over and patted her hand. “You don't know any better.”

“You condescending—”

“Now, now. No need to get nasty.” He smiled. “I like you despite your snobbery.”

“Do you?”

“You don't know?” He caught her hand, held it. “Really?”

“I know I'm not an easy She-dragon to . . . not fear.”

“I'm not afraid of you, Ghleanna. I've never been afraid of you. To be quite honest . . . I think you're amazing. I always have. Since the first time you ignored me.”

“I didn't ignore you then.” She stretched out on her side, the two of them facing each other. “And I can assure you that I'm
not
ignoring you now.”

Ghleanna bit her lip and asked, “So when do you have to work on your precious truce?”

Bram reached for her, his hand slipping behind the back of her neck. “Not for days.”

“Don't you mean hours?”

He tugged her close, their lips almost touching. “No, Ghleanna, I mean days. Minimum. I've been waiting a very long time to—”

“My Lord Bram?” a voice from outside the door said.

Bram fell back on the bed. “This isn't happening. This can't be happening.”

And that's when that Lord Kleitos idiot opened the door without invitation. He grinned when he saw the pair naked and nearly entwined on the bed.

“So very sorry to interrupt, my Lord, but the Empress asks for your
immediate
attendance.”

“Right.”

Kleitos stood there, the silence in the room stretching, until he pushed, “
Now
, my Lord.”

And that's when Ghleanna charged off the bed and tackled the Fin into the far wall. She clasped her hand around his throat and squeezed. She felt water begin to pour from his skin and she warned, “I'll snap your neck before you'll have a chance to shift.”

Kleitos settled back and Ghleanna explained, “Lord Bram will be along when he's dressed and ready.
You
will no longer just walk into this room without invitation. And, if you can manage it, stop slithering around. I find it nauseating.”

Ghleanna pulled Kleitos away from the wall and pushed him out the door and onto the walkway. “Now tell your Empress that Lord Bram will be there shortly.”

She released him and Kleitos rubbed his neck, glaring at the two guards outside her door.

“And you do nothing?”
he demanded.

Demetrius shrugged. “Our orders are quite specific, Chancellor—”

“Never mind!”

Kleitos stormed off and Ghleanna cracked her neck. “Slithering bastard,” she muttered, before heading back into her room.

As she passed the two guards, Anatolios winked at her.

Ghleanna closed the bedroom door, but the bed was empty. It wasn't a large room, so she had no idea where Bram could have gone.

Ghleanna walked around the bed, stopped, and placed her hands on her hips.

“Bram the Merciful! Stop laughing and get off the floor. The Empress awaits!”

Chapter 12

Ghleanna had just finished pulling her shirt over her head when the bedroom door opened and the ruling monarch of the Fins walked through—without even a knock!

Even Rhiannon didn't do that.

“Oh. I thought Bram would be here.”

Helena knew damn well Bram wasn't here because she'd been the one to order him to some ridiculous Senate meeting or whatever, but the royal wanted to play games. The kind of games many She-dragons played. She-dragons other than Ghleanna.

“He's in a Senate meeting, I think.”

“That doesn't start for another hour at least,” Helena stated.

Then why did she order him to the Senate right away? Or was that demand simply Kleitos being a twat? Probably both.

Fighting a sigh, “Perhaps the library then. But is there something I can do for you, my Lady?”

“No, no. I just need to talk to him. Do you know which library?”

Ghleanna dropped her boots on the floor and sat on the edge of the bed so she could tug them on with her free hand. Bram had insisted on tying her arm down before leaving her. “There's more than one?”

The Empress sighed and began to move about the room. “Are you enjoying your stay with us?”

“I'm glad I'm healing. Glad I'm breathing. So I guess I'm enjoying it.”

“I'm having most everyone stay in their human form. Just for you.”

Ghleanna fell back on the bed and lifted her leg up in the air, the boot half on and half off. She struggled to tug the tight leather on while trying to have this ridiculous conversation.

“That's quite nice of you, my Lady. But it's not necessary. I can hold me own in whatever form I'm in.”

“Really?”

Once she had the boot on, Ghleanna sat up. She grinned, shrugged. “It's a skill. I am a Cadwaladr after all . . . my Lady.”

The Empress stepped closer. “So you and Bram . . . you're very close?”

“We are.”

“But you have no claim on him, yes?”

“No. I have no claim on him.” Ghleanna held the other boot in her hand and looked up at Helena. “But I haven't had him tortured and beaten either, which kind of puts me in the lead . . . don't you think, my Lady?”

Those strange-colored eyes narrowed, that back straightened, “Excellent point. Then again my father doesn't have an entire forest of books on his past conquests. My, my, you must be proud,” she sneered. “Being the daughter of Ailean the Slag.”

A few months ago, the Empress's head would have been ripped off and thrown against the wall, but not only had Ghleanna had a sword shoved into her chest by an ex-lover— something that often changed one's perspective on the little things—but with all this time on her claws she had been thinking a lot about Bram's words to her right after they'd left her parents' castle. Her father's life, his past, was not her own.

Not only that, but her father wrote books, was highly respected by the royal peacemaker, and had taught all his offspring to protect themselves in
any
given situation. Even Maelona had her skills. A whore Ailean may have been, but a loving, caring whore who adored his offspring and mate. Who adored Ghleanna. A daughter who'd refused to forgive him his past indiscretions. That is until now.

Now she'd be damned if she'd let some little prissy tail make her feel shame over anything. Those days were over for her. Long over.

“That's very true, my Lady. Then again, according to what I've heard and my mother's general satisfaction, I'm guessing Ailean the Wicked is an awesome—”

“Yes,” the Empress cut in. “I see your point.” She also clearly saw that Ghleanna wouldn't be goaded. “Why don't I leave you to finish dressing.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

Helena walked out and Anatolios, who still had the watch, stuck his head in. “You all right?”

“Aye. That one's only as scary as you let her be.” Ghleanna held up her boot. “Could you help me with this?”

 

 

Eight hours of absolutely nothing but more arguing. Not even effective arguing but just ridiculous arguing because the final say on any matter was Helena's. Yet she sat back and enjoyed the angry arguing of her Elders, senators, and other sycophants. Bram didn't know if any of these dragons was aware that Helena already had her mind made up, or if they knew but decided to argue for her amusement despite that.

And, because she enjoyed spreading the misery around even more, she'd insisted on Bram being in attendance, even going so far as to track him down in the library where he was working diligently on her blasted truce.

Finally, the Empress called a halt to the day's discussion. “We'll meet tomorrow to explore this further.”

Bram stood and stretched his back. “Why do you let them think they have a say?” he had to ask, when the others had filed out. “Isn't that just cruel?” And a waste of his bloody time.

“Not cruel at all. It's good to let your subjects think they have some control over their lives, otherwise they get a bit unruly. I loathe unruly, don't you?”

“Never thought much about it.” He began to organize his scrolls. “I'm going to see if I can get more work done. If you'll excuse me, my Lady.”

“Aren't you going to thank me?” she asked.

“Thank you?”

“For being nice. I've insisted everyone be human for the time being. So your little Low Born won't feel so tiny and insecure.” The Empress smiled. “Wasn't that nice of me?”

Huh. Bram just thought the Empress wanted to try on her overabundance of gowns. “Aye, Empress. Very . . . nice.”

“I have to say you're looking much better these days, Bram.”

“Thank you.”

“And you've really . . . come into your own.”

Bram didn't answer; he simply picked up his scrolls.

“My Lord Bram?”

“Yes?” he asked.

“I was just thinking that since you'll be here for a while, perhaps we can . . .” she reached out and stroked his arm.

Before she could go on, Bram felt it was important to point out that, “If you think I've forgotten how I was tortured and beaten when I was here the first time . . . I haven't.”

Helena folded her arms over her chest, a little sneer on her lips. “Going to hold that against me, are you?”

Bram decided retreat was his best option, so he headed back to the room he shared with Ghleanna.

But before he could make his escape, the Empress tossed at him, “I've heard that your Low Born has gotten rather chummy with the other soldiers.”

Bram stopped. He knew that Helena was a conniving, vicious sea-viper, but he couldn't help the swell of jealousy he immediately felt.

“The soldiers do seem to like her. I'm guessing she's very friendly when you're away.” The Empress eased around him, smiling sweetly. “I'm sure she's more comfortable with them. Her own kind and all that.”

“She is
my
kind, my Lady. Remember? Barbarian Land Dwellers. That's us.”

Bram bowed his head and walked out. He made it to the room he shared with Ghleanna, but when he walked in, he found her gone.

Bram tossed his travel bag and papers into a corner and stalked out of the room and onto the walkway. The guards were gone as well. He headed back the way he'd come, trying to catch a glimpse of Ghleanna somewhere.

The Empress's palace was a marvel of Sea Dragon engineering built inside a vast series of underwater caves. Air breathers could easily survive inside its ocean-colored stone walls for centuries. They had access to fresh lake and river water, and fresh air from the land above. How the Fins managed to get it all down here, Bram didn't know. And he didn't even think to ask, he was so concerned with finding Ghleanna.

Bram heard a roar down a long hallway, watched large-sized Fins heading in that direction. He recognized them as soldiers. His eyes narrowed and he followed, pushing through the dragons until he reached a chamber. Two Sea Dragons in human form battled against each other with spears while their comrades stood around them in a circle and cheered them on.

And, sitting on top of a boulder was Ghleanna. She wore another long shirt and dark blue leggings and her arm was still tied down under her shirt. Not surprisingly, she cheered right along with the other warriors—when she wasn't stopping to chat with the generals who stood around her in their dragon form.

One male slammed another onto his back by using the staff of his spear and Ghleanna called out, “No, no, no!” She held her free arm out and—to Bram's astonishment—one of the generals hauled her off the boulder and carefully placed her on the ground.

“You keep fighting like that, lad,” she admonished, “and you'll be on your back a lot when you're human.”

She waited until the dragon was on his feet. “You're not paying attention to the way he's coming at you,” she instructed. “You're so busy staring at the tip, you miss the way his body's moving. Human bodies hide nothing, but that spear tip can change on you in a second and you won't have a chance to get out of its way.” She shrugged and lightly patted where she'd been stabbed by that sword. “Take my word on it.” The Fins laughed and she went on. “But if you pay closer attention to your opponent, you can watch what
he
does, and he'll show you which way he's going. I know very few human soldiers or dragons who don't signal their move long before they make it. You just have to watch for it. Understand?”

The soldier nodded and Ghleanna slapped his shoulder, which didn't seem to offend him. “Good. Good. But don't worry. You're doing well. Just need more training is all. I'm betting
all of you
need more training to fight as human.” She flicked her hand. “So get to work.”

The Fins went back to sparring and Ghleanna saw Bram and walked to his side.

“Hello there.”

“I leave you alone for a few—”

“I was bored. What did you expect me to do? Sit on my ass and count the algae on the walls.”

“That's a design motif.”

“And again you lost me.”

“You should be in our room, Ghleanna.”

“You mean hiding? Why? I didn't do anything wrong.”

“Not hiding. Resting.”

“I'm fine.”

The room grew silent and Ghleanna rolled her eyes. “If you're going to make a big deal out of it.”

“You all right, Captain?” one of the soldiers asked.

“I'm fine. Going to take a rest. You lot keep up the work. I'll check in later.”

She walked out and Bram realized that the soldiers were now all staring at him. “It's for her own good,” he insisted. “She needs her rest.”

There was some grunting and they all turned away from him.

Letting out a frustrated growl, he followed Ghleanna.

 

 

“Do you enjoy doing that?” Bram demanded once he'd closed their bedroom door.

“Enjoy doing what?”

“Turning those soldiers against me?”

“What are you talking about?”

“A few days ago, they didn't even know of my existence. Ten minutes with you”—he threw his hands up—“and they all hate me.”

“You're mad. I was doing nothing but talking to them.” She lowered her voice, “Do you know they have absolutely no say and no representatives in their own government? That sea cow rules it all!”

“I know. That's why I need you to leave the soldiers alone. Stop talking to them.”

“I don't see why that upsets you so. You're arranging a truce anyway, so they won't be our enemies for long.” She walked up to him, leaned in close, and whispered against his ear, “Besides, it gives me a chance to find out how they fight on land and in the sea. You know . . . in case your truce falls apart and I and my kin need to kill them all.”

She leaned back and smiled, sure she'd made her point.

“You're bloody mad,” he said, shaking his head and gawking at her. “All of you. Every damn Cadwaladr in this world is bloody mad except your mother and your sister Maelona.”

“What are you bringing my sister up for?”

“Because I'm relatively certain she wouldn't be running around after getting a sword through the chest, trying to teach Fin soldiers new fighting techniques.”

“That's because she doesn't know any fighting techniques. But if you think so highly of her, I'm sure I can arrange a proper introduction between you two.”

Bram glared at her for a few seconds before he reminded her, “Besides
living
with your kin, I also attended school with Maelona for years. When I returned to your parents' home it was usually as Maelona's guest.”

“Oh.”

“Tell me, was there
ever
a time when you noticed me? Or did I not exist for you at all?”

“That's not fair.”

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Forget it. I'm tired and I need sleep.”

“So you're just walking away?”

“Looks that way.”

“Bram—”

He growled at her—growled!—and reached over his shoulders to gather up his cotton shirt and pull it over his head. He shook out his silver hair, tossed the shirt onto a chair, and dived face first onto the bed.

“This conversation isn't over, peacemaker.”

“Yes it is,” he said into the fur covering. “I'm tired of being reminded how little I've ever meant to you.”