Last Dragon Standing
Page 11
She examined the male. She could smell the lightning that came from within him, knew he was a Northlander. The blue hood of his cloak probably hid purple hair—common among the Lightnings. But his human face was surprisingly handsome for a barbarian. Sharp cheekbones, delicious-looking full lips, a strong jaw, and a once-battered nose that kept him from looking too perfect. But it was his eyes that made her think she might know him from somewhere. They were blue with shots of silver, like tiny bolts of lightning. They were as beautiful as anything she’d seen, and Keita felt sure that if she’d f**ked this one, she would have remembered. She tried to be very good about that sort of thing—especially if she f**ked the one-time enemies of her people, since that sort of thing brought all sorts of problems.
She pointed at him. “Don’t I know you?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, rather than answering her.
“I’m about to be wrongly executed for something I didn’t do.”
“And yet something tells me you did do it. Now get your ass down here.”
“Get my…” Keita slammed her hands onto her hips, the chain nearly not allowing it. Although she refused to believe her hips were that wide.
“You need to go away before I get angry,” Keita told him.
“I’ve seen you angry. I wasn’t impressed. Tell me, princess, did you hit at them with your tiny little fists or use that tail to ward them off?” When Keita’s skin began to itch and the overwhelming desire to kill everything within a league of her rage flowed from her pores like honey, she knew exactly who this arrogant, lightning-breathing, worthless scum of a whore bastard was! “You! I should have finished you when I had the chance, warlord,” Keita told him.
“Should haves. I bet your entire life is filled with should haves.”
“Only where you’re concerned. Because I should have torn your feeble barbarian heart from your weak chest and I should have danced around you in a veritable orgy of blood and pain and suffering that would have called the dark gods to me so they could make me their reigning queen!”
“Keita?” her traveling companion called out lightly.
“What? ”
When he didn’t answer, she lifted her gaze from the dragon in front of her. The entire crowd now watched her in horror.
“I could be wrong,” her friend said, “but I’m thinking the ‘good people, I have been wrongly accused’ speech isn’t going to work at the moment.”
And whose fault was that? The Lightning’s fault, that’s who!
“Finish it!” Lord Bampour yelled from the safety of the gate walls, his men scrambling to get him to safety.
The executioner grabbed Keita by the shoulders, yanking her back.
The guards on the ground tried to force the Lightning back with the now screaming-for-her-blood townsfolk.
“Well, you’ve left me no choice,” Keita told the audience watching her.
“Keita, no!” Éibhear cried out. Typical of her baby brother. What would he have her do instead? Let these peasants hang her, a royal, like meat? Was that what he wanted?
The executioner reached for the noose, and Keita sucked air into her lungs. But guards were tossed aside, and Ragnar the Bastard, as she liked to call him when she thought of him at all, jumped onto the block and caught hold of the front of her dress. “Oy!” she gasped. “Watch the dress!” Ignoring her, as he always seemed to do, Ragnar hauled her forward and over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” she ordered.
“Quiet!” the bastard snarled, already moving away from the block.
“Just the sound of your voice irritates me.” Keita raised her head and saw the Baron Lord’s guards charging forward. “Kill him!” she ordered them, causing them all to stop and stare at her. Humans. Although she found most of them quite entertaining, they could be a little on the slow side.
Using her chained hands, she gestured at the bastard who was walking off with her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “Kill. Him,” she said again. “Now!”
Finally, swords were pulled, and the villagers made a run for it. The fight was on, but all Keita could do was sit there on this idiot’s shoulder, hoping the human soldiers could finish what she hadn’t two years before.
“Keita!” She heard the urgency and warning in her friend’s voice and looked back at the block she’d been dragged from.
The executioner, who’d stopped by her cell last night and promised to f**k her corpse when he was done stretching her neck—she sensed he had no interest in her while she was still moving…and warm—was off the block and heading toward her. With the barbarian busy fighting the guards in front of him, he had no clue the executioner was coming.
She saw the man smile under the black mask that covered everything to his nose, his hands stretching out for her throat. One good twist of her human neck and she’d be done. It was the risk they all took when they shifted to human—they were a little easier to kill. But there were some abilities Keita still had access to, no matter her form. So when she felt those big fingers against her neck, she unleashed the line of flame she’d been holding on to and turned the executioner into ash.
Of course, she also demolished the wooden executioner’s block behind him and set fire to several other nearby buildings, but that couldn’t be helped. Yet around her, everything froze, all eyes on her and Ragnar.
She pointed at him. “Don’t I know you?”
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, rather than answering her.
“I’m about to be wrongly executed for something I didn’t do.”
“And yet something tells me you did do it. Now get your ass down here.”
“Get my…” Keita slammed her hands onto her hips, the chain nearly not allowing it. Although she refused to believe her hips were that wide.
“You need to go away before I get angry,” Keita told him.
“I’ve seen you angry. I wasn’t impressed. Tell me, princess, did you hit at them with your tiny little fists or use that tail to ward them off?” When Keita’s skin began to itch and the overwhelming desire to kill everything within a league of her rage flowed from her pores like honey, she knew exactly who this arrogant, lightning-breathing, worthless scum of a whore bastard was! “You! I should have finished you when I had the chance, warlord,” Keita told him.
“Should haves. I bet your entire life is filled with should haves.”
“Only where you’re concerned. Because I should have torn your feeble barbarian heart from your weak chest and I should have danced around you in a veritable orgy of blood and pain and suffering that would have called the dark gods to me so they could make me their reigning queen!”
“Keita?” her traveling companion called out lightly.
“What? ”
When he didn’t answer, she lifted her gaze from the dragon in front of her. The entire crowd now watched her in horror.
“I could be wrong,” her friend said, “but I’m thinking the ‘good people, I have been wrongly accused’ speech isn’t going to work at the moment.”
And whose fault was that? The Lightning’s fault, that’s who!
“Finish it!” Lord Bampour yelled from the safety of the gate walls, his men scrambling to get him to safety.
The executioner grabbed Keita by the shoulders, yanking her back.
The guards on the ground tried to force the Lightning back with the now screaming-for-her-blood townsfolk.
“Well, you’ve left me no choice,” Keita told the audience watching her.
“Keita, no!” Éibhear cried out. Typical of her baby brother. What would he have her do instead? Let these peasants hang her, a royal, like meat? Was that what he wanted?
The executioner reached for the noose, and Keita sucked air into her lungs. But guards were tossed aside, and Ragnar the Bastard, as she liked to call him when she thought of him at all, jumped onto the block and caught hold of the front of her dress. “Oy!” she gasped. “Watch the dress!” Ignoring her, as he always seemed to do, Ragnar hauled her forward and over his shoulder.
“Put me down!” she ordered.
“Quiet!” the bastard snarled, already moving away from the block.
“Just the sound of your voice irritates me.” Keita raised her head and saw the Baron Lord’s guards charging forward. “Kill him!” she ordered them, causing them all to stop and stare at her. Humans. Although she found most of them quite entertaining, they could be a little on the slow side.
Using her chained hands, she gestured at the bastard who was walking off with her over his shoulder like a sack of grain. “Kill. Him,” she said again. “Now!”
Finally, swords were pulled, and the villagers made a run for it. The fight was on, but all Keita could do was sit there on this idiot’s shoulder, hoping the human soldiers could finish what she hadn’t two years before.
“Keita!” She heard the urgency and warning in her friend’s voice and looked back at the block she’d been dragged from.
The executioner, who’d stopped by her cell last night and promised to f**k her corpse when he was done stretching her neck—she sensed he had no interest in her while she was still moving…and warm—was off the block and heading toward her. With the barbarian busy fighting the guards in front of him, he had no clue the executioner was coming.
She saw the man smile under the black mask that covered everything to his nose, his hands stretching out for her throat. One good twist of her human neck and she’d be done. It was the risk they all took when they shifted to human—they were a little easier to kill. But there were some abilities Keita still had access to, no matter her form. So when she felt those big fingers against her neck, she unleashed the line of flame she’d been holding on to and turned the executioner into ash.
Of course, she also demolished the wooden executioner’s block behind him and set fire to several other nearby buildings, but that couldn’t be helped. Yet around her, everything froze, all eyes on her and Ragnar.
