Bring the Heat
Page 63
“Is it?” Zoya asked, clearly surprised. “Brannie, she is dragon. She dances, yes, Brannie? Dances and drinks!”
“Well, Branwen the Awful is . . . is . . .”
“Low Born?” Aidan asked. “Is that what you mean, Mother?”
“Can’t we just eat and enjoy our meal? Or must you ruin everything?”
“I don’t have to ruin everything . . . but I can—”
“Or,” Brannie cut in, desperately wiping tears from her face, “we could just eat.” She chuckled a little more. “This does look good.”
“And so does that,” Caswyn grumbled under his breath, his eyes looking past the empty throne-like chair.
She was shy, eyes cast down, her long gold hair parted in the middle but managing to hide a good portion of her face, hands laced in front of her, shoulders curved. But no matter how hard she might try, she couldn’t hide the beauty of her human body. And, Gaius would guess, in her natural form, she would be stunning.
Aidan immediately stood, placed his hands on the back of Caswyn and Uther’s necks and snarled, “That’s my baby sister.” Then he slammed their heads into the table.
“Understand?” he asked the friends who were now rubbing growing knots on their foreheads.
They nodded, however, even as they winced.
“Excellent!”
The warning given, Aidan rushed to his sister’s side, leading her to a chair next to Brannie. Then he forced Caswyn and Uther to move so he could sit on his sister’s other side.
“King Gaius,” Aidan said, grinning, “this is my baby sister, Orla. Orla, this is King Gaius Lucius Domitus.”
“Lady Orla,” Gaius said, nodding his head, noting the pride on Aidan’s face. “And, please let me introduce you to my friends—”
“Later!” Lady Gormlaith barked. But she quickly cleared her throat and forced a smile before again saying more calmly, “Later. Why don’t we enjoy our lovely meals first?”
“Of course,” Gaius obliged.
Kachka leaned over and softly whispered in his ear, “You are what charming Celyn calls, ‘a bit of a dick.’”
“No, no,” Gaius corrected. “I’m a major dick.”
“The food,” Zoya announced, “it tastes also like you are mourning. Are you sure no one is dead?”
That’s when Nina Chechneva offered, “I can sing song of death again.”
“No!” most of the Foulkes de chuid Fennahs yelled.
Nina shrugged. “Fine, but let me know if you change mind.”
They were halfway through their meal—and Zoya was right, the food at this place was bland, not like the food of Queen Annwyl—when guards marched into the hall. They preceded an older man or, Kachka was guessing, a dragon in human form. His gold hair was streaked with silver, and he moved quickly, glaring as he stomped to his chair. He dropped into it, gold eyes glowering at the entire table. Kin and stranger alike.
“Why are we sitting here, eating like humans?”
“A feast in honor of King Gaius Lucius Domitus, my love,” Gormlaith easily replied, most likely used to the moods of her mate. “He brought with him some humans, so it seemed like a good idea to enjoy a meal together.”
“A feast?” the dragon asked, eyeing Gaius. “For an Iron?”
“The queen has an alliance with King Gaius now, Jarlath.” She briefly glanced at him. “Remember?”
“Why so much food?”
“To celebrate.”
“Did anyone taste it yet?”
“It is bland,” Zoya said, even while she continued to eat.
“Not for flavor, barbarian. For poison.”
The Southlanders immediately spit out their food, but Kachka and her Riders kept eating, as did Gaius.
“You’re not worried about poison?” Lord Jarlath pushed, staring at Gaius.
He swallowed before replying, “The first thing every Sovereign’s mother does is to protect her hatchlings from poison. Mostly because the best poisoners in the world are from the Quintilian Provinces.”
“How do they protect you?” Cinnie asked.
“They poison you. With a whole . . . host of things. You throw up a lot when you’re a Sovereigns youth, but eventually . . . it passes. And you’re either dead or you have a cast-iron stomach.” He smiled. “As it turns out, we have a very healthy population in the Sovereigns Empire.”
Jarlath looked at Kachka. “And you?”
“We are Daughter of Steppes,” she said with shrug. “You do not survive Outerplains without strength.”
“But poison—”
“We had an Anne Atli who was poisoned by enemies once. It took her thirty years to die and she ruled with steel fist entire time.” Kachka briefly pursed her lips. “Yet many still saw her as weak for dying at all. Poison is for . . .” Kachka looked over the table of Southlanders. “You people.”
Brannie snorted but quickly dropped her head.
Lip curling, Lord Jarlath asked, “Who are you?”
Annnnd Gaius introduced all of them again.
“And this, Lord Jarlath, is Nina Chechneva, the Unclaimed,” Gaius finished.
But unlike his mate, Lord Jarlath didn’t even attempt the basic rules of Southland and Sovereign Empire etiquette. He seemed greatly focused on his eldest son, watching him the entire time Gaius was speaking.
“Why aren’t you eating, boy?” Jarlath asked Ainmire.
Blinking slowly, Ainmire looked up from his untouched food, and glanced around the table as if he’d never seen any of them before. Not even his own kin. “What?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Harkin asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You seem . . . strange.”
“I’m just glad to be back with my family.”
“How long were you gone?” Brannie asked.
“Ummm . . . three, four years.”
“You were sent off for training? Like Aidan?”
“No,” the dragon replied. “I just . . . left.”
“I see.” Brannie looked back at her plate and whispered to Gaius, “My mum gets upset when she doesn’t hear from Celyn in two days.”
“Your mother obviously pampers him.”
Eyes wide, Brannie adamantly replied, still in whispers, “I know! But she doesn’t see it. He’s just a big, fat baby!”
“Why are you back?” Ainmire asked Aidan.
“For the love of my family,” he replied and, in response, his family blankly stared at him. “It’s been so long, I just had to see you all again.”
When there was still nothing, Brannie muttered, “Wow.”
The silence stretched on so Gaius turned to Lord Jarlath and said, “Perhaps when we have done eating, Lord Jarlath, you and I can talk for a few minutes.”
The Southland royal shook his head while picking at his food. “No.”
Brannie suddenly sat up in her seat, the playful, goofy Brannie gone, and Captain Branwen the Awful of Her Majesty’s Army now present. And pissed off.
“Lord Jarlath,” she admonished, her voice no longer that of an annoyed baby sister. “King Gaius is a very close ally to Queen Rhiannon, which means that all lords of her queendom give him the utmost respect and consideration. That, my lord, includes you.”
“Well, Branwen the Awful is . . . is . . .”
“Low Born?” Aidan asked. “Is that what you mean, Mother?”
“Can’t we just eat and enjoy our meal? Or must you ruin everything?”
“I don’t have to ruin everything . . . but I can—”
“Or,” Brannie cut in, desperately wiping tears from her face, “we could just eat.” She chuckled a little more. “This does look good.”
“And so does that,” Caswyn grumbled under his breath, his eyes looking past the empty throne-like chair.
She was shy, eyes cast down, her long gold hair parted in the middle but managing to hide a good portion of her face, hands laced in front of her, shoulders curved. But no matter how hard she might try, she couldn’t hide the beauty of her human body. And, Gaius would guess, in her natural form, she would be stunning.
Aidan immediately stood, placed his hands on the back of Caswyn and Uther’s necks and snarled, “That’s my baby sister.” Then he slammed their heads into the table.
“Understand?” he asked the friends who were now rubbing growing knots on their foreheads.
They nodded, however, even as they winced.
“Excellent!”
The warning given, Aidan rushed to his sister’s side, leading her to a chair next to Brannie. Then he forced Caswyn and Uther to move so he could sit on his sister’s other side.
“King Gaius,” Aidan said, grinning, “this is my baby sister, Orla. Orla, this is King Gaius Lucius Domitus.”
“Lady Orla,” Gaius said, nodding his head, noting the pride on Aidan’s face. “And, please let me introduce you to my friends—”
“Later!” Lady Gormlaith barked. But she quickly cleared her throat and forced a smile before again saying more calmly, “Later. Why don’t we enjoy our lovely meals first?”
“Of course,” Gaius obliged.
Kachka leaned over and softly whispered in his ear, “You are what charming Celyn calls, ‘a bit of a dick.’”
“No, no,” Gaius corrected. “I’m a major dick.”
“The food,” Zoya announced, “it tastes also like you are mourning. Are you sure no one is dead?”
That’s when Nina Chechneva offered, “I can sing song of death again.”
“No!” most of the Foulkes de chuid Fennahs yelled.
Nina shrugged. “Fine, but let me know if you change mind.”
They were halfway through their meal—and Zoya was right, the food at this place was bland, not like the food of Queen Annwyl—when guards marched into the hall. They preceded an older man or, Kachka was guessing, a dragon in human form. His gold hair was streaked with silver, and he moved quickly, glaring as he stomped to his chair. He dropped into it, gold eyes glowering at the entire table. Kin and stranger alike.
“Why are we sitting here, eating like humans?”
“A feast in honor of King Gaius Lucius Domitus, my love,” Gormlaith easily replied, most likely used to the moods of her mate. “He brought with him some humans, so it seemed like a good idea to enjoy a meal together.”
“A feast?” the dragon asked, eyeing Gaius. “For an Iron?”
“The queen has an alliance with King Gaius now, Jarlath.” She briefly glanced at him. “Remember?”
“Why so much food?”
“To celebrate.”
“Did anyone taste it yet?”
“It is bland,” Zoya said, even while she continued to eat.
“Not for flavor, barbarian. For poison.”
The Southlanders immediately spit out their food, but Kachka and her Riders kept eating, as did Gaius.
“You’re not worried about poison?” Lord Jarlath pushed, staring at Gaius.
He swallowed before replying, “The first thing every Sovereign’s mother does is to protect her hatchlings from poison. Mostly because the best poisoners in the world are from the Quintilian Provinces.”
“How do they protect you?” Cinnie asked.
“They poison you. With a whole . . . host of things. You throw up a lot when you’re a Sovereigns youth, but eventually . . . it passes. And you’re either dead or you have a cast-iron stomach.” He smiled. “As it turns out, we have a very healthy population in the Sovereigns Empire.”
Jarlath looked at Kachka. “And you?”
“We are Daughter of Steppes,” she said with shrug. “You do not survive Outerplains without strength.”
“But poison—”
“We had an Anne Atli who was poisoned by enemies once. It took her thirty years to die and she ruled with steel fist entire time.” Kachka briefly pursed her lips. “Yet many still saw her as weak for dying at all. Poison is for . . .” Kachka looked over the table of Southlanders. “You people.”
Brannie snorted but quickly dropped her head.
Lip curling, Lord Jarlath asked, “Who are you?”
Annnnd Gaius introduced all of them again.
“And this, Lord Jarlath, is Nina Chechneva, the Unclaimed,” Gaius finished.
But unlike his mate, Lord Jarlath didn’t even attempt the basic rules of Southland and Sovereign Empire etiquette. He seemed greatly focused on his eldest son, watching him the entire time Gaius was speaking.
“Why aren’t you eating, boy?” Jarlath asked Ainmire.
Blinking slowly, Ainmire looked up from his untouched food, and glanced around the table as if he’d never seen any of them before. Not even his own kin. “What?”
“What’s wrong with you?” Harkin asked.
“Nothing. Why?”
“You seem . . . strange.”
“I’m just glad to be back with my family.”
“How long were you gone?” Brannie asked.
“Ummm . . . three, four years.”
“You were sent off for training? Like Aidan?”
“No,” the dragon replied. “I just . . . left.”
“I see.” Brannie looked back at her plate and whispered to Gaius, “My mum gets upset when she doesn’t hear from Celyn in two days.”
“Your mother obviously pampers him.”
Eyes wide, Brannie adamantly replied, still in whispers, “I know! But she doesn’t see it. He’s just a big, fat baby!”
“Why are you back?” Ainmire asked Aidan.
“For the love of my family,” he replied and, in response, his family blankly stared at him. “It’s been so long, I just had to see you all again.”
When there was still nothing, Brannie muttered, “Wow.”
The silence stretched on so Gaius turned to Lord Jarlath and said, “Perhaps when we have done eating, Lord Jarlath, you and I can talk for a few minutes.”
The Southland royal shook his head while picking at his food. “No.”
Brannie suddenly sat up in her seat, the playful, goofy Brannie gone, and Captain Branwen the Awful of Her Majesty’s Army now present. And pissed off.
“Lord Jarlath,” she admonished, her voice no longer that of an annoyed baby sister. “King Gaius is a very close ally to Queen Rhiannon, which means that all lords of her queendom give him the utmost respect and consideration. That, my lord, includes you.”
