Feel the Burn (Dragon Kin #8)(18)



“That is not a body. That’s Gaius Lucius Domitus.”

Rhi gasped, small hands covering her beautiful mouth. But Talwyn simply asked, “Who?”

Both her cousin and brother gawked at her. “Gaius Lucius Domitus?” her brother pushed, as if saying the dragon’s name several times would change anything. “Iron dragon and the one-eyed Rebel King from the west?”

Talwyn shrugged. “Still unclear.”

“Just like her mother,” the corpse suddenly announced.

“It’s not necessary to be nasty, foreign trash,” Talwyn snapped back.

With a rare growl, Talan pushed her out of the way and motioned to the giant. “Here. Put him on this table.”

As the giant made her way to the table, Talan shoved plates, chalices, and utensils onto the floor to give them a free spot. That included the half-empty plate of ribs.

“I was eating those!”

“Would you shut up?” Rhi snarled.

The barbarian giant dumped the dragon in human form on their table, and even Talwyn had to admit . . . he looked awful.

“What is that around his neck?” she asked, reaching for the bit of gold that sparkled.

Rhi slapped her hand away. “Don’t.”

Annoyed, Talwyn slapped her hand back.

“Owwww! What was that for?” her cousin whined.

“You hit me first!”

“I was helping!”

“For the love of death and despair,” Talan growled, “both of you shut up!”

“As entertaining as this is,” one of the barbarians said calmly, “can you help him or not?”

Talwyn remembered this female. Kachka . . . something. The Rider who’d come here a few months ago with her wounded sister. That one had lost her eye to their mother, something even Talwyn had never done to her own mum. Of course, that was mostly down to her brother. Talan had always thrown off Talwyn’s aim anytime she had her mum in her sights. And then he’d growled at her like it was wrong for a four-year-old to shoot a crossbow at their mother’s knees.

Such a Goody Two-claws, her brother.

“Well . . . what is that?” Talwyn asked again about the torc around the Iron dragon’s neck.

“Ancient, powerful magicks.” Rhi gave a small shake of her head and took several steps away from the royal, her hands lifted as if in surrender.

Talwyn gave the smallest eye roll so that her brother wouldn’t see. Rhi was always so dramatic. How bad could the magicks on this be? Talwyn wondered, reaching out to touch the item that currently bled the royal dry of life.

As she did, another barbarian moved behind Rhi. This one looked different from the others. All her clothes were dark. So dark they were purple, like the darkest Lightning dragon. She wore dark kohl around her black eyes and her black hair was in several large braids with black gems weaved throughout.

She simply stood behind Rhi, without saying a word. But, suddenly, Rhi took in a breath, her eyes widening. She sensed the woman behind her. And, without a word, Rhi spun on her heel and swung her fist, ramming it right into the woman’s jaw and knocking her to the ground.

The torc forgotten, Talwyn burst into shocked laughter. “Holy shit!”

“Rhi!” Talan barked, stunned at Rhi’s sudden act of violence. “What the hells is wrong with you?”

Rhi stood over the barbarian, one damning finger pointed at her. “Cause one problem here, woman. Just one—and I will rip that thing you call a soul from your body and eat it whole.”

Talan grabbed Rhi around the waist and pulled her to the other side of the table as a loud angry voice blasted from another cavern, “What’s all this then! I was trying to sleep!”

Talwyn leaned over and whispered to Kachka, “Probably sleeping upside down from the rafters like a bloody bat.”

“Something to say to me, demon child?” Brigida the Foul asked . . . from behind Talwyn. Her voice had been coming from the cavern in front of Talwyn seconds ago. Gods! She hated when the witch did that. And hated even more that she wouldn’t show her how to do it.

“Well,” Talwyn began, “since you asked . . .”

“We don’t have time for this!” Talan cut in. “You have to help the king, Brigida.”

The She-dragon in her human form raised a brow. “Help? An Iron? Why would I do that, boy?”

“He’s an ally to my mother.”

Beneath her black cloak, Brigida’s shoulders sort of twitched. “And?”

“Just. Fucking. Fix. Him.”

Brigida the Foul debated removing the skin from the insolent boy, but he had a higher purpose in this world than ending up on the wrong side of her anger.

She studied the torc around the Iron’s neck. She entertained the idea of leaving it there. Letting him die. He was only a few breaths from death as it was.

She had no good memories of the Irons. She’d been around when that lot had separated themselves from the Fire dragons of the Southlands. Always thought they were so above it all. Calling on the gods to make them all that iron color, twisting their horns around so they looped toward their jaws instead of sitting high on their heads like any proper dragon. Why? Because they truly thought they were better than the rest.

The whole thing had pissed her off so much that Brigida had actually involved herself in that war. Had been knees deep in blood and death and the cries of the innocent, as she often liked to be, but instead of just drinking all that in and taking what she needed from the slain and dying for her spells, she’d actually fought beside the Dragon Queen of the time. Together, they’d pushed the Irons back into the west, past the Western Mountains. Brigida had thought that would be the last they heard of them, assuming they’d die out.

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