About a Dragon
Page 72
It surprised him Talaith, one of those assassins according to Morfyd who’d asked for his silence, not only lived but seemed to have become the best friend of the queen and her Battle Mage. He had no idea why. Both Annwyl and Morfyd insisted she’d been the victim of circumstance. Perhaps. Brastias didn’t rightly know. But, he grudgingly admitted, he’d grown fond of Talaith, too. He’d especially grown fond of her loud, chatty daughter.
Still, no one had told Fearghus about how Talaith came to join their little party, and so happy to have Annwyl back, he didn’t question it.
It won’t be fun when he finds out.
He would find out, too. He always did.
“You want to take a bit of a break, General?”
Brastias looked at Danelin. “What do you mean?”
“If you studied the guests any more, sir, you’d be forcing them to strip and bend over.”
Brastias chuckled. “That obvious, am I?”
“Aye, sir. Besides,” he motioned across the room, “there is someone I’m sure wouldn’t mind if you asked her for a dance.”
Following his second-in-command’s line of sight, his eyes settled on Morfyd. Tonight she didn’t wear her usual witch’s robes. Instead, she wore a sparkling white gown, cut low in the front, and her white hair curled and hanging loose around her shoulders and down her back, with white and silver flowers threaded throughout.
Definitely the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his entire existence.
“Go on, sir.” Danelin pushed Brastias with his shoulder and Brastias almost struck him down with his sword.
Instead, he gritted his teeth. “I’m going. I’m going. Don’t push.”
Taking a deep breath, Brastias moved across the floor toward Morfyd. Tonight he would ask her to dance. The worst she could say was “no”. But he would think positively for the moment. She’d say “yes” because he wanted her to say “yes”.
He stepped in front of her. “Lady Morfyd.”
She grinned. “Lady Morfyd? Isn’t that a bit formal between old friends?”
Friends? He didn’t want to be friends. In fact, he was tired of being friends.
“Well, that’s the thing—” But before he could finish a large hand slapped him on the back, almost sending him flying into Morfyd.
“Brastias, old friend.”
Scowling, Brastias turned and faced Gwenvael. Bundled up in a cape and furs, his face nearly hidden by the hood, he’d clearly only arrived. “I had no idea there was a party this eve. Good thing we washed before changing and coming here.”
Gwenvael, typically unaware of what he’d interrupted, pushed Brastias out of the way so he could kiss his sister on the cheek.
“You look lovely this evening, sister.”
Morfyd, always so self-contained and in complete control, practically fell over herself as she grabbed her brother’s arm. “Are you alone?” she demanded frantically.
Frowning, he said, “No. I’ve got Briec and Éibhear with me. Why?”
She bounced on her toes. “Where? Where are they?”
He pointed to a spot across the floor. Éibhear, happy and good natured as always. And Briec, looking as if he wished he were anywhere but here—as always. They both had the hoods of their capes up over their heads, nearly obscuring their faces. But Brastias knew them well enough to see who was who. And, based on past experience, Brastias knew as soon as Briec spoke to Fearghus, he’d leave. Now that he thought about it, Briec had only been there one time before. When he and his kin came to convince Annwyl to return to her mate after their year-long separation. Any other time the brothers met, it was at Dark Plains. Strange having him here now. The information they possessed must be extremely important for him to make the trip.
The music changed tempo to a fast jig and one of Iseabail’s Protectors lifted her up and swung her around the floor. She squealed excitedly as he passed her off to one of her other Protectors who passed her off to the next.
He admired those men. They’d taken good care of that girl for nine years. While they may go hungry, they made sure she ate. While their clothes and armor may need repair, her clothes were always clean and cared for. And from what he heard, woe to the man who came near her, much less hurt her. No, the lass couldn’t have been in better hands until she could return to her mother.
One of the Protectors reached into the crowd and dragged a shy and extremely embarrassed Talaith out to join the dance. At that moment, he heard Gwenvael gasp in surprise.
“But, wait…that’s…”
His sister gripped his arm tighter, causing him to wince in pain. “I know. I know!” The toe bouncing became decidedly worse. Morfyd’s one weakness—gossip.
Brastias turned back to watch Talaith. Although they didn’t lift her up like her daughter, the Protectors swung her once and passed her among each of them. She laughed even as her face turned dark red in embarrassment, knowing everyone watched her. Although some decidedly with more intensity than others.
Especially Briec. He stepped forward out of the crowd, staring so intently at her Brastias found himself holding his breath, waiting for Talaith to notice him.
She did…at the moment she slipped and slammed face first into his chest. Laughing, she gripped his arms and pushed herself away. Most likely with an apology on her lips as was her way. But when she looked into the face of the man—or, in this case, dragon—who held her, she froze.
Still, no one had told Fearghus about how Talaith came to join their little party, and so happy to have Annwyl back, he didn’t question it.
It won’t be fun when he finds out.
He would find out, too. He always did.
“You want to take a bit of a break, General?”
Brastias looked at Danelin. “What do you mean?”
“If you studied the guests any more, sir, you’d be forcing them to strip and bend over.”
Brastias chuckled. “That obvious, am I?”
“Aye, sir. Besides,” he motioned across the room, “there is someone I’m sure wouldn’t mind if you asked her for a dance.”
Following his second-in-command’s line of sight, his eyes settled on Morfyd. Tonight she didn’t wear her usual witch’s robes. Instead, she wore a sparkling white gown, cut low in the front, and her white hair curled and hanging loose around her shoulders and down her back, with white and silver flowers threaded throughout.
Definitely the most beautiful thing he’d seen in his entire existence.
“Go on, sir.” Danelin pushed Brastias with his shoulder and Brastias almost struck him down with his sword.
Instead, he gritted his teeth. “I’m going. I’m going. Don’t push.”
Taking a deep breath, Brastias moved across the floor toward Morfyd. Tonight he would ask her to dance. The worst she could say was “no”. But he would think positively for the moment. She’d say “yes” because he wanted her to say “yes”.
He stepped in front of her. “Lady Morfyd.”
She grinned. “Lady Morfyd? Isn’t that a bit formal between old friends?”
Friends? He didn’t want to be friends. In fact, he was tired of being friends.
“Well, that’s the thing—” But before he could finish a large hand slapped him on the back, almost sending him flying into Morfyd.
“Brastias, old friend.”
Scowling, Brastias turned and faced Gwenvael. Bundled up in a cape and furs, his face nearly hidden by the hood, he’d clearly only arrived. “I had no idea there was a party this eve. Good thing we washed before changing and coming here.”
Gwenvael, typically unaware of what he’d interrupted, pushed Brastias out of the way so he could kiss his sister on the cheek.
“You look lovely this evening, sister.”
Morfyd, always so self-contained and in complete control, practically fell over herself as she grabbed her brother’s arm. “Are you alone?” she demanded frantically.
Frowning, he said, “No. I’ve got Briec and Éibhear with me. Why?”
She bounced on her toes. “Where? Where are they?”
He pointed to a spot across the floor. Éibhear, happy and good natured as always. And Briec, looking as if he wished he were anywhere but here—as always. They both had the hoods of their capes up over their heads, nearly obscuring their faces. But Brastias knew them well enough to see who was who. And, based on past experience, Brastias knew as soon as Briec spoke to Fearghus, he’d leave. Now that he thought about it, Briec had only been there one time before. When he and his kin came to convince Annwyl to return to her mate after their year-long separation. Any other time the brothers met, it was at Dark Plains. Strange having him here now. The information they possessed must be extremely important for him to make the trip.
The music changed tempo to a fast jig and one of Iseabail’s Protectors lifted her up and swung her around the floor. She squealed excitedly as he passed her off to one of her other Protectors who passed her off to the next.
He admired those men. They’d taken good care of that girl for nine years. While they may go hungry, they made sure she ate. While their clothes and armor may need repair, her clothes were always clean and cared for. And from what he heard, woe to the man who came near her, much less hurt her. No, the lass couldn’t have been in better hands until she could return to her mother.
One of the Protectors reached into the crowd and dragged a shy and extremely embarrassed Talaith out to join the dance. At that moment, he heard Gwenvael gasp in surprise.
“But, wait…that’s…”
His sister gripped his arm tighter, causing him to wince in pain. “I know. I know!” The toe bouncing became decidedly worse. Morfyd’s one weakness—gossip.
Brastias turned back to watch Talaith. Although they didn’t lift her up like her daughter, the Protectors swung her once and passed her among each of them. She laughed even as her face turned dark red in embarrassment, knowing everyone watched her. Although some decidedly with more intensity than others.
Especially Briec. He stepped forward out of the crowd, staring so intently at her Brastias found himself holding his breath, waiting for Talaith to notice him.
She did…at the moment she slipped and slammed face first into his chest. Laughing, she gripped his arms and pushed herself away. Most likely with an apology on her lips as was her way. But when she looked into the face of the man—or, in this case, dragon—who held her, she froze.
