Dragon On Top (Dragon Kin #0.4)(16)

“Why didn’t you just kill the Duke and his army?”

“Which was why I spoke to your father, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, you walked in, slammed a blood-covered axe on the table and said, ‘Thanks for the axe, Da. Worked like a charm.’ Then you walked back out and he sighed and said with great pride, ‘I adore that girl like the suns.’ Then we went back to our conversation—with that blood-covered axe sitting there the entire time.” Bram gazed off. “I tried not to take it as an unspoken threat.”

Ghleanna shook her head a little. “Is that really true?”

“I lie when I have to, Ghleanna. Like when I tell people our queen is utterly sane or that ‘No. Of course Bercelak would never kill your offspring while you slept.’ But on something like this? That is not something I’d lie about.”

“You don’t understand. I am judged by my father’s past deeds because, as usual, he didn’t think past his cock. I am Ailean the Slag’s daughter, after all, which to many means I’m no more than a slag myself.”

“You are judged by your father’s past because you allow yourself to be. Because you allow yourself to feel shame for the life he decided to live. How is that Ailean’s fault? Perhaps you should accept him as he is—the way he’s accepted you.”

“Know so much about my family, do you, royal?”

“Well . . . I did live with your parents for a year while I studied alchemy under your mother.”

Ghleanna frowned. “You did? When was that . . . well, don’t walk off mad! It was an innocent question!”

Chapter 5

They flew the rest of the day and late into the night until they reached the outskirts of the city of Baynham. Instead of sleeping outside, though, they all decided to go into town, get some warm food and soft beds.

But it had been someone’s brilliant idea for them all to stay in the pub for the night and share a single room with several beds. There was just one problem—the Cadwaladr males’ ability to snore in a way that suggested very loud temple construction.

It wasn’t even that Bram was a light sleeper. He wasn’t. Far from it, having slept through all manner of things during the time he traveled the length and breadth of the Southlands for several years. But four Cadwaladr males in one room? That was too much even for him.

They didn’t even snore in unison, but instead created a wall of sound that surrounded him so that Bram could never hope to find sleep anytime soon. After many hours of trying, he finally gave up, pulled on his boots, and slipped out of the room. Once he closed the door behind him, he let out a deep sigh of relief that the thick wood at least blocked a bit of the noise those dragons could make.

“Making a run for it?”

Ghleanna sat on the stairs that led to the next floor of rooms. She had one of her axes in her lap and was sharpening the blade.

“No offense to you, Ghleanna, but that noise—”

“I know. I know. Why did you think I offered to take first watch? Hew’s the worst of the lot, though, with Addolgar a close second.”

He motioned to the steps. “Mind if I join you or are you still mad at me for what I said earlier?”

Ghleanna hadn’t spoken to him since they’d left her father’s lands, and Bram knew he should have stayed out of it—but he couldn’t. Her rage at her father was unwarranted and for some reason none of her kin would tell her so.

In answer to Bram’s question, however, Ghleanna simply moved over a bit and placed her axe on the landing behind her.

Bram sat down beside her, and asked, “Too close?” “Not so’s I mind.”

Bram nodded and stared straight ahead. “Any trouble so far tonight?” he asked when the silence began to choke him to death.

“Nay. Quiet as a tomb.”

“Do you think a watch is necessary?”

“If my brother Bercelak is worried for your safety—it’s better to err on the side of caution.”

They sat in silence for a few more minutes until Bram asked, “Is that what taking first watch entails? Sitting around, sharpening your weapons . . . and waiting?”

“Mostly.”

“No books to read?”

“Don’t need any.”

“No one to talk to?”

“Too much chatter gets on my nerves.”

“Do you ever find yourself wishing for an attack of some kind to help with the boredom?”

“Not really.”

Bram gazed at her. “You truly are a soldier, aren’t you?”

“Me mum used to say I came out of my egg saluting and already in formation. Not sure I believe her, though.”

Bram chuckled. “I adore your mother. One of the kindest dragons I’ve ever known.”

“Aye. That she is.”

“And skilled with the written word as well.”

Ghleanna shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. Not much of a reader.”

“Well, tell me, because there’s always been some debate among my friends and I, and your mother won’t admit anything one way or the other—did your mother help your father write those books of his?”

Bram, finally enjoying their late-night conversation, thought it was an innocent enough question—until the tip of one of Ghleanna’s blades pressed against his throat, her black eyes angry as she glared at him.