About a Dragon
Page 90
Talaith grabbed Éibhear by the front of his chainmail shirt and, using the strength of her ancestors, swung him around and slammed him against the wall.
One hand shoved against his throat, she pinned him to the spot, while retrieving her blade with the other and placing the point of it against his jugular.
“What did you do?” she shouted in his face.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“To Izzy! What did you do to Izzy?”
“Nothing.” Éibhear stared at Talaith, his silver eyes desperate. “I swear!”
“Mother, let him go!” She could hear her daughter pleading with her, but barely. The rushing in her ears drowned out almost all other sounds.
This…this was the final straw. If these dragons thought they’d get her daughter too—not in her lifetime.
“Tell me what you did!”
“He only took me flying last night,” Iseabail fairly screamed.
Talaith glared at Éibhear. “Is that what you told her it was called?” she yelled in his face.
“No!”
Morfyd stood on the other side of her, “Woman, get your hands off my brother.”
“Not ‘til he tells me what he did to her. This way I’ll know whether to cut off only his balls or the entire bloody thing!”
Éibhear’s eyes darted to his sister’s. “Morfyd…”
She sighed. “Éibhear, tell us what happened.”
Éibhear kept his focus on his sister, then spit it all out in a rush: “I was out flying last night when I saw this one alone, far from the castle. I was going to make her come back here, but when I looked I saw the moon and it just didn’t look right and it was hovering over the castle as if suspended there. I was afraid to bring her back here, so I took her flying. I showed her around Dark Plains until I grew tired. We were near Dark Glen, so I took her to Fearghus’ den, because I knew it would be safe. We stayed there the night, but I swear I never touched her!”
“It’s true, mum,” Iseabail pleaded. “I swear it.”
He spoke true. She could see it and sense it. But she still hated all dragons at the moment. “Then you best keep it that way, dragon.”
Finally she pulled away from him, lowering her blade to her side.
Talaith turned and took several steps away, when she heard the pair arguing in hushed whispers.
“See what you got me into? I’m never helping you again, brat.”
“I should have let my mother skewer you.”
Without looking at them, she snapped. “You two stop that. Right this minute.”
They both stopped.
She motioned to the stairs with her head. “Iseabail get up to your room and take a bath. I’ll be up in a few minutes to discuss why you left the safety of this castle in the middle of the night.”
“But, I—”
“Move!”
Giving one last glare to Éibhear, her daughter stormed off, brushing past a slow-moving Annwyl who practically crawled down the stairs.
Somehow the warrior queen managed to dress in what Talaith now knew to be Annwyl’s everyday wear as opposed to her battle wear—sleeveless chainmail shirt, leather leggings and leather boots.
“Morfyd,” she whined.
“It’s all right, Annwyl.” Morfyd’s voice sounded tight and angry, but clearly she decided not to push a confrontation. Good plan. Talaith may not be dragon, but at the moment she could kill anything mortal.
As Annwyl slowly made her way to the dining table, Morfyd quickly mixed up another chalice full of her brew, using her finger to stir all the ingredients. A servant passed her when she was done, so she handed it to him and motioned to Annwyl.
Annwyl took it, but before drinking said, “Well, I know I like finger with my wine.”
“Drink it, you whiny cow.”
“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Annwyl swigged the wine back with one gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She dropped the chalice to the table. “How long before this works?”
“Couple of minutes.”
“Good.” Using both hands, Annwyl leaned against the dining table.
But it seemed fate played against Annwyl this beautiful morning as one of her soldiers stepped into the Great Hall. “Annwyl, we need you.”
Annwyl sighed and, even though the drink most likely had not worked yet, somehow forced herself to straighten up and walk toward her soldier. Talaith guessed it wouldn’t do for the queen to be indisposed because her mate f**ked her silly the night before.
Talaith admitted the woman had some mighty strength, though. Where Talaith cried and simpered like a babe, Annwyl simply pretended it never happened. Better woman than me.
Annwyl slid past Morfyd and Talaith who’d kept their backs to each other.
But as soon as Annwyl passed the women, they both knew. Startled, they turned and looked at each other, their moment of anger quickly forgotten. They watched Annwyl make her faulty way toward the archway. Once she got there, she suddenly grabbed the wood molding and doubled over.
Morfyd and Talaith ran to her side, but by then she was throwing back up everything she’d drunk. Not surprising. Talaith saw the kind of herbs Morfyd had in that drink. Ones that, among many other things, would prevent a woman from becoming with child.
Too late for that.
Morfyd took hold of one arm while Talaith grabbed the other. Morfyd motioned to the soldier. “Find Brastias or Danelin. They must help you. The queen is ill.”
One hand shoved against his throat, she pinned him to the spot, while retrieving her blade with the other and placing the point of it against his jugular.
“What did you do?” she shouted in his face.
“What? What are you talking about?”
“To Izzy! What did you do to Izzy?”
“Nothing.” Éibhear stared at Talaith, his silver eyes desperate. “I swear!”
“Mother, let him go!” She could hear her daughter pleading with her, but barely. The rushing in her ears drowned out almost all other sounds.
This…this was the final straw. If these dragons thought they’d get her daughter too—not in her lifetime.
“Tell me what you did!”
“He only took me flying last night,” Iseabail fairly screamed.
Talaith glared at Éibhear. “Is that what you told her it was called?” she yelled in his face.
“No!”
Morfyd stood on the other side of her, “Woman, get your hands off my brother.”
“Not ‘til he tells me what he did to her. This way I’ll know whether to cut off only his balls or the entire bloody thing!”
Éibhear’s eyes darted to his sister’s. “Morfyd…”
She sighed. “Éibhear, tell us what happened.”
Éibhear kept his focus on his sister, then spit it all out in a rush: “I was out flying last night when I saw this one alone, far from the castle. I was going to make her come back here, but when I looked I saw the moon and it just didn’t look right and it was hovering over the castle as if suspended there. I was afraid to bring her back here, so I took her flying. I showed her around Dark Plains until I grew tired. We were near Dark Glen, so I took her to Fearghus’ den, because I knew it would be safe. We stayed there the night, but I swear I never touched her!”
“It’s true, mum,” Iseabail pleaded. “I swear it.”
He spoke true. She could see it and sense it. But she still hated all dragons at the moment. “Then you best keep it that way, dragon.”
Finally she pulled away from him, lowering her blade to her side.
Talaith turned and took several steps away, when she heard the pair arguing in hushed whispers.
“See what you got me into? I’m never helping you again, brat.”
“I should have let my mother skewer you.”
Without looking at them, she snapped. “You two stop that. Right this minute.”
They both stopped.
She motioned to the stairs with her head. “Iseabail get up to your room and take a bath. I’ll be up in a few minutes to discuss why you left the safety of this castle in the middle of the night.”
“But, I—”
“Move!”
Giving one last glare to Éibhear, her daughter stormed off, brushing past a slow-moving Annwyl who practically crawled down the stairs.
Somehow the warrior queen managed to dress in what Talaith now knew to be Annwyl’s everyday wear as opposed to her battle wear—sleeveless chainmail shirt, leather leggings and leather boots.
“Morfyd,” she whined.
“It’s all right, Annwyl.” Morfyd’s voice sounded tight and angry, but clearly she decided not to push a confrontation. Good plan. Talaith may not be dragon, but at the moment she could kill anything mortal.
As Annwyl slowly made her way to the dining table, Morfyd quickly mixed up another chalice full of her brew, using her finger to stir all the ingredients. A servant passed her when she was done, so she handed it to him and motioned to Annwyl.
Annwyl took it, but before drinking said, “Well, I know I like finger with my wine.”
“Drink it, you whiny cow.”
“Someone’s in a bad mood.” Annwyl swigged the wine back with one gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She dropped the chalice to the table. “How long before this works?”
“Couple of minutes.”
“Good.” Using both hands, Annwyl leaned against the dining table.
But it seemed fate played against Annwyl this beautiful morning as one of her soldiers stepped into the Great Hall. “Annwyl, we need you.”
Annwyl sighed and, even though the drink most likely had not worked yet, somehow forced herself to straighten up and walk toward her soldier. Talaith guessed it wouldn’t do for the queen to be indisposed because her mate f**ked her silly the night before.
Talaith admitted the woman had some mighty strength, though. Where Talaith cried and simpered like a babe, Annwyl simply pretended it never happened. Better woman than me.
Annwyl slid past Morfyd and Talaith who’d kept their backs to each other.
But as soon as Annwyl passed the women, they both knew. Startled, they turned and looked at each other, their moment of anger quickly forgotten. They watched Annwyl make her faulty way toward the archway. Once she got there, she suddenly grabbed the wood molding and doubled over.
Morfyd and Talaith ran to her side, but by then she was throwing back up everything she’d drunk. Not surprising. Talaith saw the kind of herbs Morfyd had in that drink. Ones that, among many other things, would prevent a woman from becoming with child.
Too late for that.
Morfyd took hold of one arm while Talaith grabbed the other. Morfyd motioned to the soldier. “Find Brastias or Danelin. They must help you. The queen is ill.”
