Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(62)

Horrified, the baron turned and raced toward the other end of the hall. But a blue-scaled fist rammed through the stained glass, only to be replaced a few seconds later by a blue-scaled dragon head.

“Hello, Baron Roscommon,” a female voice said.

Gods! A She-dragon! He’d always heard they were more terrifying than the males.

The baron, in a panic, shoved his assistant toward the female, ignoring her “Oh! That’s just wrong, you bastard!” and ran down another hallway to another set of stairs.

Panting from the exertion and fear, he rushed down those stairs until he reached the wooden door. He snatched it open and stumbled outside. His people were screaming and running in all directions, yelling warnings of “Dragons! Run! Dragons!” Words he’d never heard in his time except in stories told by his father and grandfather.

Gods, what had he done?

Roscommon went around the corner of his castle and started to run toward an entrance to tunnels that the queen had ordered built so that the city could have sewers. Something she’d apparently learned from the Desert Land people. Those tunnels would allow the baron to escape out of the city.

But just as he reached the entrance, a silver spike landed in front of him, blocking his exit. And he quickly realized that the spike was actually part of a tail.

And from above, he heard a low voice sneer at him, “Going somewhere, m’lord?”

Elina sat in a tree safe from the action in the city but still close enough that she could see and hear most of it.

She understood why the dragons didn’t need to go the route of her people and swoop in like the terrifying horde they were.

Because they were dragons. All they had to do was drop their enormous bodies from the skies, and the terror was on without their doing much of anything.

The funny thing was, these “terrifying” dragons were much more thoughtful than any human Elina had ever met. Although a few had talked about going into the city and wiping everyone out, it was mostly just talk. They had considerately listened to other ideas and, in the end, supported Celyn’s.

Elina had been rather amazed by it all.

Even more fascinating, they’d all decided it was in their best interest to handle all this themselves rather than get Queen Annwyl involved. Apparently her way of dealing with things was also different from the tribal hordes’. She seemed to have no desire to destroy those she considered innocent. But wiping out the entire army protecting the city? It seemed that was something she would be more than willing to do. All by herself.

What really interested Elina the most about all of this was how protective the dragons were, not only of the people, but of Annwyl and her rule. To be honest, Elina had assumed the dragons didn’t take the human queen very seriously. She’d assumed that they tolerated her merely because of her mate. A dragon prince, no less.

Yet it wasn’t like that at all. Whatever Annwyl had done over the years, she’d earned the respect of these dragons. They seemed to love and fear her. At the very least, they feared her wrath.

Gods, what was that like? To have your own fear you?

Glebovicha had made sure that no one feared Elina. She mocked her to any and all, telling them how weak and stupid and useless Elina was.

And thinking about that reminded Elina how hard it would be to get to the Anne Atli. Glebovicha would not want that. She probably would not allow it. But Elina was becoming more and more determined as time went on. She felt, deep in her bones, that it was necessary for her to help the dragons as much as she could.

No. Nothing would stop her. Not even Glebovicha.

Deciding not to think on it any longer, Elina again focused on what was going on inside the city.

Addolgar had the baron by his leg and was carrying him to the city’s gallows. There were no humans out on the streets now. No humans waiting by the gallows to see what would happen to their leader. Instead, they were hiding in their homes or in their gods’ temples. All of them praying that the dragons would just kill their leader and go on their way. None of them seemed ready to fight to protect anything. A desire Elina understood but didn’t exactly respect. What about their honor? Or the honor of their city? Or simply the honor of protecting their leader? Did none of that mean anything to these Southlander people?

Or was it the Southland people as a whole? Maybe it was just the people of this city who had no honor? Or perhaps they’d realized long ago that their baron wasn’t worth fighting for? The remainder of the city guards had not been killed, but none of them came out to help their baron either.

As always, Elina saw many sides to this debate and sadly . . . it was this ability that often got her into the most trouble with her people. Her people loved a good argument but only about silly things. Who made the best beer? Who could drink the most? Who was the best warrior? Who had the prettiest husbands?

Big questions like, “Are all Southlanders truly worthless, decadent, imperialist scum?” were answered one way and one way only: “Yes, they are!”

Celyn and his other cousins were already waiting at the gallows. A few dragons perched on the protective gate that surrounded the city. A gate that Elina’s people would have had no problem taking down.

Elina was impressed by how quickly Celyn’s nearby kin had rallied around him. A call had gone out and so quickly they’d been here, by his side, ready to help him in any way he might need. Elina thought of her own sister, Kachka, and wished she were here by her side. They always worked well together, her sister never pushing Elina to be more than she was.