Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(60)

Thankfully, though, Addolgar just steered Celyn off, away from the insolent female.

“Everything all right here, lad?” Addolgar asked.

“Aye. Why?”

Addolgar huffed a bit. “Celyn?” he pushed.

“She’s just being sensitive. You put a girl in jail and forget about her for a few months, and they all take it so bloody personally.”

“You forgot about her?”

“She’s lucky I did. She’d been sent to kill Rhiannon.”

“Then why isn’t she dead?”

Celyn sighed. “It was a sad, weak attempt, really. She clearly didn’t want to do it. Auntie Rhiannon just felt bad for her.”

“Guess you didn’t tell me brother about any of this.”

“Rhiannon told me not to.”

“Don’t lie to me, my lad. You wouldn’t have told him anyway.”

“He tends to overreact. Like a dog that attacks at every new sound.” Celyn glanced back toward where he’d left Elina. “She climbed all the way up Devenallt Mountain by herself but didn’t even bring her bow. But with her bow, she could have easily put arrows through the closest guards and had an arrow through Rhiannon’s eye before the rest of us could have reached either of them . . . yet she didn’t.”

“What are you doing with her now?”

“Taking her back to the Outerplains. She’s going to meet with the tribes’ leader to see if we can arrange a meeting between her and Annwyl.”

“Good luck with that. That tribes leader ain’t a friendly girl.” Addolgar shrugged his massive shoulders. “But I don’t care much about this political stuff. I leave that to Dagmar and your father.” Addolgar suddenly looked around. “If you’re taking her back to her people, though, you’re taking the long way, ain’t ya?”

“We thought getting a little more information about what’s been happening around the Southlands and, possibly, the Outerplains, would help our cause once Elina reached her tribe leader.”

Addolgar shook his head. “You and your bloody excuses to ask questions.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you ask too many questions.” Addolgar made a tsk-tsk sound. “Personally, I blame your father. It’s his blood that made you like this.”

“Made me like what?”

“Always thinking. Don’t you ever stop thinking?”

Celyn could only give one answer to that. “No.”

“See what I mean? Just like your father.”

Celyn moved away from his uncle. “Look, I’ll admit, I may ask more questions than most Cadwaladrs, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. What would you prefer, Uncle . . . that I was more like one of your sons?”

And, as if the gods themselves had willed it, “Hey, Da! Look what I found!” One of Addolgar’s younger sons raised his arm. “A bucket of gold!” Then, for some unfathomable reason, the silver dragon laughed hysterically. For a good long while, too.

Addolgar let out a pained sigh. “I want you, lad, to be who you are. But then you need to have the guts to stand behind that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at me brother. Bercelak. He is a mean, heartless, ruthless bastard of a dragon. He’s been loathed for centuries by nearly everyone except his own kin and Rhiannon. But you don’t hear him whining about it. He just accepts who he is and goes on about his day . . . being a mean, heartless, ruthless bastard of a dragon. So, you want to ask your questions. Then ask your questions. You want to be nosy and a pain in the ass. Then be nosy and a pain in the ass. But don’t whine about it. Just do it. Stop taking everything so damn personally. With that,” he said, pointing a talon at him, “you’re just like your mum, you know? She used to take everything so damn personally. Let everybody get her so bloody upset because they accused her of being a murdering viper or a whore like our father.”

“Well, that does seem a tad rude—”

“See?” Addolgar said, exasperated. “Just like her! You can’t let the petty shit stop you from being who you are. And getting what you want.” He swept his forearm in a half circle, taking in the carnage around them. “Look at all this, boy. You found there was trouble and you moved. You saw what was happening and you dealt with it. Then you sent for us . . . so we can set these humans straight. You know what that is . . . ?”

“No.”

“That’s smart, you little bastard. Smart. You think. That’s good! Just like your dad, you are.”

“I thought I was just like me mum.”

“Shut it. And there’s nothing wrong with being like your dad. Tell ya this . . . your dad was smart enough to get your mum. And she didn’t make it easy.”

“Cadwaladr females never make it easy.”

“They don’t. And your dad loved her even after she used two swords to cut off the head of the bastard she used to be with. He deserved it, but still . . . takes a brave dragon willing to risk being the next notch on her pummel.”

Addolgar put his forearm around Celyn’s shoulders. “All I’m saying is, if your future is being more than just the charming Cadwaladr . . . embrace it. That’s the thing about Cadwaladrs. We are who we are. And we don’t back down from that. You shouldn’t either. Even if who you are is kind of an annoying, never-shuts-up git.”