Dragon On Top (Dragon Kin #0.4)(36)

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.