Later, Rhiannon spoke with her children, asking them about their brother. His siblings expressed worry about their brother’s sadness. A word she would never use with Fearghus. He wasn’t as exuberant as Éibhear or as lusty as Gwenvael or as cocksure as Briec. He wasn’t even brutish and grumpy like her Bercelak. Instead, he lived quietly and calmly. He only became upset when he couldn’t have time to himself. He left the court earlier than any of her others because he couldn’t stand the noise or his siblings constantly pestering him. And she let him go with her blessings. She prided herself on understanding all her hatchlings. She understood them better than any of them realized. She knew he needed to be alone. And even when he took the throne as king, he’d be the same way still. Nothing would change that. Or him.
Then the chatty little human girl came along. Because of the girl, people now knew dragons could shift into human. Her sweet Éibhear, whom she always had such high hopes for, only spoke of mating for life with a human. A human! And her own daughter, heir to her Magick and power, actually served the human female at Garbhán Isle.
In the beginning, Rhiannon became convinced that the girl seduced her son—and clearly the rest of her family—with her feminine wiles. At least, that’s what she thought before she met her. But she quickly realized the girl had absolutely no feminine wiles to speak of. A hard warrior who risked death so she could protect all her tiny human kin. Rhiannon even stopped referring to her as “it” the moment she took her flame. She screamed, true, but mostly because the pain was excruciating. But once the process changed her body, the girl had gone on to take her brother’s head, become ruler of all Dark Plains and Garbhán Isle, and still unite with a dragon. All in the same day.
That still impressed Rhiannon. But now she had an unhappy son and she blamed the girl. A year had passed. The female tamped down all forms of insurgence with her tiny but mighty fist and now she needed to return to her mate. He’d Claimed her, she now belonged to him. If the girl changed her mind . . . well, it would be in her best interest not to change her mind.
Rhiannon’s offer to Annwyl was simple. “Return to Fearghus now or suffer my wrath.”
She stalked through the castle, her children trailing behind her, Keita desperately trying to cover up her mother’s nak*dness with a cloak. Her children had arrived a bit earlier and were already dressed. They lived among the humans more than she, and she often forgot how much the humans’ own bodies caused them such distress. She paused outside the throne room long enough to pull the cloak on, but stopped and halted her children at the sound of Annwyl’s voice.
“So the rumors are true then?” a male voice snapped in disgust. “You have mated with a dragon.”
“Very true. But, of course, if it bothers you, Lord Hamish . . . please, feel free to come and take my throne from me.”
Rhiannon exchanged glances with her children. Seemed she still might be underestimating the tiny human.
Annwyl swung her legs off the arm of the stone chair and stood to her full height. She looked in the eye of each and every head of the Houses before her. She tired of games and pretending. With all the Houses present, the time now came to make sure everyone understood her reign and her.
“Perhaps this is as good a time as any to clarify the situation for all. That way there are no misunderstandings. Yes. The rumors are true. My mate is Fearghus the Destroyer, the Black Dragon of Dark Plains. He is my mate and my consort. With him I shall rule. I understand if any of you have a problem with this. And please, feel free to try and take my throne from me.” She lowered her voice to a whisper, but it razored across the silent hall like a shout. “Please.”
She waited. When none stepped forward she turned her back. But the flicker of Danelin’s eyes alerted her. They’d weathered many battles together and sometimes all you had time for was a look or one word. She knew exactly what he needed to tell her and she moved with her usual speed and brutality.
Annwyl pulled the jeweled dagger Fearghus gave her so long ago from her boot and, turning only her upper body, flung it behind her. The blade skewered the throat of a member of the House of Adhamhan who wanted to kill her in the name of his people. A big man in full armor, he wore no helm and Annwyl’s blade lodged itself right in his neck. His big body crashed to the floor, causing everyone but Annwyl and her troops to jump.
Annwyl stared at him for a long moment, letting it all settle in for everyone present. Then she looked over the faces of the nobles. “Anyone else?” No one moved. “I guess we are all clear now.”
She sat back on the throne, watching as Hamish scurried to the back of the hall. She glanced at Danelin. “Are we done now?”
He leaned in low so only Annwyl could hear him.
“There were to be three more, but I believe they may have run for their lives.”
“That weighs heavy on my heart, Danelin,” she muttered under her breath.
He raised an eyebrow. “I can see that, Annwyl.” All her original troops from her squire to Brastias still called her by her name only, without the formality of title and she would not have it any other way.
“Annwyl the Bloody!” A voice rang out across the hall, startling Annwyl and Danelin as well as the entire court. “You speak of your mate and yet you are not with him.”
Annwyl’s eyes narrowed as her rage began to flow through her veins like blood. It must have been on her face as well; Danelin stepped back from her, his hand on his sword, while Brastias and her troops moved in closer. Whether they were worried for her or about her she did not know.
She stared at the woman who stood at the large wood doors of the hall. Completely covered in a light blue cloak, she was the tallest female Annwyl had ever come across.
“Not sure what business that is of yours, lady.” Annwyl wondered whether she would kill her slowly or just outright.
The woman came forward, the cloak swirling around her bare feet. “I’ve traveled far to meet with you, Lady Annwyl, but I don’t like to waste my time or bandy words about.”
“And neither do I. So perhaps you should get to your point before I lose my patience.”
Annwyl felt a hand grip her shoulder and looked up to see Morfyd beside her. “Annwyl, I’d like to present Queen Rhiannon of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar.” Annwyl cringed. What an ugly family name. She would hate to be stuck with something like that. “My mother.”
The feeling to bury one’s head in a ditch can be an overwhelming one, but Annwyl fought it all the same. The queen stood in front of her. As human. She snatched back the hood of her cloak. Snow white hair tumbled down around her shoulders and an expression of intense dissatisfaction rippled across her face. She didn’t even seem to notice the gasp that went up from the court when they saw the mark of her own Claiming, a black dragon brand that went from her jaw down her neck and disappeared under her cloak.
But now Annwyl understood why all Rhiannon’s children were beautiful. As human Rhiannon was absolutely stunning.
Annwyl looked at those who accompanied Rhiannon. A beautiful red-headed female who looked as innocent and sweet as any daddy’s girl. And three males who were clearly brothers. All quite beautiful in their own way. The one with silver hair looked as if he appeared before her under protest. The golden-haired one openly leered at her. And the blue-haired one grinned so happily she could do nothing but give him a quick smile back.
“My point, lady, is that it is time to take your rightful place beside my son.”
Annwyl took a deep, shaky breath. The bitch had just ordered her back to Fearghus. Ordered her. Her hands clenched into fists as the rage welled up. She could control the emotion now, but that only made it more deadly. Gwenvael must have seen it. He shut his eyes in resignation.
“And perhaps, lady, you should mind your own business.” Morfyd’s fingers dug deep into her shoulder as warning. A warning she ignored. “What goes on between Fearghus and myself is our concern. Not yours. And you need to remember that.”
She noticed Rhiannon’s children desperately trying to get her attention while Morfyd came dangerously close to tearing her arm off.
“Perhaps you forget who I am.”
“I forget nothing. And pray tell me, lady, how is your mate’s tail?”
At that point, Morfyd threw up her hands and walked back to Brastias’s side while Rhiannon’s sons cringed and the beautiful redhead dropped her head in her hands.
Rhiannon smiled. A disturbing sight to say the least. Unlike her children, her human teeth still resembled fangs more than anything else. “You know, Lady Annwyl, any woman strong enough to impale a dragon as mighty as Bercelak the Great, should be strong enough to go claim what is hers.”
Interesting turn from the queen. Annwyl expected her to rip her head off instead. At least she expected her to try. “I appreciate your concern, lady. But I am at a loss as to why your son did not come himself.”
And save me from his damn kin!
“He foolishly fears that he will bring great risk to your safety. I now know there is nothing to fear. You are a deadly adversary. I doubt anyone here would dare your wrath. I know I wouldn’t.”
Annwyl wondered for a moment if Rhiannon spoke these words just for the benefit of the nobles. But she doubted the dragon would be bothered. The female was dangerously honest—foe or friend. “But since my son is such a—”
“Prat?” Gwenvael offered.
“Insidious harpy?” Briec countered.
“Concerned mate,” their mother spat out between gritted teeth as she silenced them both with a glare. “I have a gift for you.”
Annwyl readied herself. The queen may be honest, but Annwyl still didn’t take anything she said at face value. “Gift” could leave her covered in blood and eyeless. “Really?”
“I offer you my loyalty and the loyalty of all dragons in Dark Plains.”
Annwyl wasn’t sure what that should mean to her. “Oh. That’s very . . . um . . . sweet.”
Morfyd returned to her side and leaned down to whisper loudly in her ear so all could hear. “In case you didn’t know, that means if anyone ever tries to strike out against you or your throne they will bring the entire dragon kingdom of Dark Plains and all our allies down on their heads. It happened once before about one thousand years ago. When the dragons were done, they’d wiped the land clean.”
A jolt passed through Annwyl’s body as some of the humans in the hall began to inch their way toward the exit. And Hamish couldn’t run fast enough. She wondered what he’d originally planned.
Annwyl looked at Fearghus’s mother. “You give this loyalty to me? A human?”
“Yes.”
“Because of Fearghus?”
“No. I give nothing to my children. It all must be earned. And you have earned this. You’ve done very well. Without us. And without Fearghus.” She gave a bored sigh. “Simply put, you’ve impressed me, Annwyl the Bloody. And I do not impress easily.”
“I . . . uh . . . thank you?” For once Annwyl couldn’t think of a thing to say.