Dragon Actually (Dragon Kin #1)(3)

Annwyl leaned back against the soft bed and felt a shudder run through her. She just wished she could say that she shuddered from fear or, at the very least, revulsion. What truly worried her was that it felt like neither.

Fearghus rubbed the fresh bump on his head. He’d heard about Annwyl the Bloody’s rage, but he had no idea how overwhelming it could be. Her angry bellow was damn near as powerful as a dragon’s roar.

No wonder she hadn’t defeated her brother yet. He terrified her. He could tell from her overzealous rage at the mere mention of the man.

If she faced Lorcan now, even if her body completely healed, he doubted she would defeat him. Either her anger or her fear would get the best of her.

And for some inexplicable reason that thought worried the hell out of him. When did he start caring about humans? Unlike some of his kin, he didn’t hate humans. Yet he didn’t live among them either. So his original plans for the human girl were to simply heal her wounds, then dump her near a human village. He didn’t like complications. He didn’t like anyone around him. He liked peace. He liked quiet. And not much else. But the mere thought of just leaving her somewhere sickened him.

He could already tell this was going to get complicated. And he hated complications.

“Good. You’re awake.” Annwyl looked up into the face of a woman. A witch, based on the precise, but brutal scar that marred one side of her face. All witches were marked in such a manner on order of her brother. The face behind the scar looked as if it might have been beautiful once. “You must have fallen asleep after he left.” She pulled the fur covering off Annwyl’s body. “Let’s get you up.”

Annwyl slowly swung her legs off the bed and, using one arm, pushed herself up.

“Careful now. Don’t want to open up that wound again.”

Annwyl nodded as she sat quietly, waiting for the nausea that suddenly descended upon her to pass.

“You’re very lucky, you know.”

“Am I?”

“Most other dragons would have made you a meal. Not a guest.”

Annwyl nodded slowly, “I know.” She looked at the witch again. “I have seen you before.”

“Aye. I help at the village when I can.”

“The healer. I remember now. I had no idea you befriended the dragons.”

“They have my loyalty.”

Annwyl looked at the woman’s scars. Not surprising she risked life among the dragons rather than of men. “Did my brother do that to you?”

“He ordered it. He is not a friend to the Sisterhood.” The woman wrapped a robe around Annwyl’s bare shoulders.

Her brother hated all witches. Mostly because they were women. And he absolutely hated all women. “He’s always been afraid of that which he does not understand.”

“Does that include you?”

Annwyl laughed as she slowly pushed herself off the bed. The laugh sounded bitter even to her own ears. “My brother understands me all too well. That’s why both of us have struggled to take any ground.”

“I see you did not escape his punishment.” The witch motioned to the wounds on the young woman’s back. The raised flesh healed but still an angry red.

“That’s not from him.” Annwyl pulled the robe tight around her body. Velvet and lush, she loved the softness of it against her battle-hardened skin. She wondered what rich baron the dragon took this from as he tore his caravan apart and ate the occupants.

The woman put her arm around Annwyl’s waist and helped her to a table laid out with food and wine. “Your name is… Morfyd. Yes?” Annwyl lowered herself into a sturdy chair.

“Yes.”

“Did you help heal me as well?”

“Yes.”

“Well, thank you for your help, Morfyd. It is greatly appreciated.”

“I did it because the dragon asked. But betray him, lady—”

“Don’t threaten me.” Annwyl easily cut in without even looking up from the food before her. “I really hate that. And you need not remind me of my blood debt to the dragon.” Annwyl sipped wine from a silver chalice and stared at the woman. “I owe him my life. I’ll never betray him. And don’t call me ‘lady.’Annwyl will do.”

Carefully placing the chalice on the wood table, she found Morfyd staring at her. “Something wrong?”

“No. I’m just very curious about you.”

“Well,” Annwyl grinned, “I’ve been told that I’m fascinating.”

Morfyd pulled out the only other chair and sat across from Annwyl. “I have heard much about your brother. It amazes me you still live.”

Annwyl began to eat the hearty stew, desperately trying not to think too hard about what kind of meat it contained.

“It amazes me as well. Daily.”

“But you saved many people. Released many from his dungeons.”

Annwyl shrugged silently as she wondered whether that was gristle she currently chewed on.

“No one else would challenge him. No man would step forward to face him,” Morfyd pushed.

“Well, he’s my brother. He used to set fire to my hair and throw knives at my head. Facing him in combat was inevitable.”

“But you lived under his roof until two years ago. We’ve all heard the stories about life on Garbhán Isle.”