Dragon On Top (Dragon Kin #0.4)(17)

Apparently not an innocent question at all.

Seething with rage, Ghleanna hissed, “You dare bring up those books to me, royal?” The series of books that had chronicled her father’s sexual escapades before he met Shalin—the damn things were still bestsellers. “Do you think I won’t cut your throat and leave you bleeding out on these steps like a cow used for sacrifice? Do you think Rhiannon can protect you from me?”

His gaze on hers, his voice steady, the royal stated, “I meant no offense, Captain. Although I don’t know why you’d be so offended.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she snapped back. “The daughter of a whore’s just a whore herself, right? You want to think I’m no more choosey about my bedmates than my father—fine. But don’t you dare bring my mother into it. She’s the purest thing my father’s had in his life and I’ll not have you sully it with your—”

“Wait.” He was remarkably calm considering the fact that she had her favorite blade to his human throat—opening a main artery was a sure way to kill a dragon in human form. “I don’t think we understand each other.”

“We understand each other quite well. No wonder you’ve been so bloody nice to me. You’re no better than the rest. Be nice to me, talk sweet to me, tell me my father adores me, then get me on my back or my knees, so you can run around telling everyone how you f**ked the slag’s daughter. Isn’t that it, royal?”

“Ghleanna,” he began slowly, speaking to her as if she were a very slow child, and she knew some centaur-shit soothing words would leave his mouth. He was well known throughout the kingdom for his ability to talk himself out of any situation. Yet she had to say . . . she was curious to see where he’d go. “I know that your father—and especially your mother—did not write the books you speak of. From what I understand, they were written without Ailean’s knowledge or consent. Those are not the books I meant.”

Ghleanna frowned. “Then what are you talking about?”

“The book your father wrote about handling close-quarter combat with Lightnings. Another about fighting human legions in open battlefields with no trees or mountains for cover. And there’s another on tactical maneuvers in the Western Mountains when fighting the barbarian tribes. He dedicated that one to you because of your work there a few decades back before you received your captain’s rank. But my favorite is about his peacekeeping efforts in the Outerplains between humans and dragons. He had some brilliant suggestions on how to use what he did there with all humans in the Southlands to ease negotiations. Of course, a lot of dragons think it’s a scandalous and outrageous book because his insane suggestions included things like not eating humans, not destroying their villages, not stomping on them for fun. Your father has some very unorthodox ideas,” Bram finished with a smile.

Yet when Ghleanna could only gawk at him, the hand with the blade sitting limply in her lap, Bram asked, “You did know your father had written books on philosophy and war tactics, didn’t you?”

As a matter of fact . . . no! She didn’t know. She’d had no clue. Her father? Writing books? Even with her mother’s help . . . her father barely read! Not that he was stupid. Far from it. But he’d always been so busy raising his offspring and teaching them how to protect themselves—mostly against him and his two brothers—that he’d never bothered to share his philosophy on anything other than what they should do the next time he and Uncle Arranz tossed their human forms off the roof.

“Gods, Ghleanna, you didn’t know, did you?” Bram asked, sounding appalled. She knew the peacemaker’s family was very close and very . . . cultured. They probably sat around a dinner of roasted oxen and discussed world events. When her family got together, there was mostly just drinking and arguing, arguing and drinking. She loved it, though. Still . . . Bram would know if his father had written any books. And he would have read them. Bragged about them. Ghleanna, as much as she loved her father, also resented him because he hadn’t seemed to be able to keep his blasted c**k in his pants before he’d taken her mother as his mate. A reputation that had haunted her since she was of an age to take lovers.

Yet Ghleanna was still ashamed she hadn’t known something so important about her own father. “No. I didn’t.”

“He never told you?”

“No. But he did teach me how to use two axes at once to disembowel someone in seconds.”

“Well . . . I’m sure that’s quite helpful, too.”

She slid her blade back into her boot. “I wonder why he didn’t tell us.”

“Maybe he thought . . .”

“Thought what?”

Bram shrugged. “Maybe that you wouldn’t care.”

“Of course I would.” Ghleanna reached over and wiped the bit of blood away from Bram’s throat where the tip of her blade had dug in a little too deep. “He’s my father. No matter what, I love the old bastard.”

“Aye,” Bram said with a sweet smile. “I can see that.”

She planted her elbow on her knee and rested her chin on her raised fist. “Now I feel bad.”

“Why?”

“Because I should have known. I should have cared enough to find out.”

“And when would you have done that, I wonder? During the Battle of Hoesgyn or perhaps the Battle of Prothero in the Medus Mountains? Or maybe during the Battle of—”