What a Dragon Should Know
Page 57
Now Izzy grinned. She simply couldn’t hate Branwen. “You’re right. Why bother? And everyone calls me Izzy.”
“All right then, Izzy.”
“Oy!” a voice called from a distance behind them. “Branwen! Where are you, you dizzy cow?”
Branwen sighed. “That’s me idiot brother and me cousins.” She tugged Izzy’s arm and together they began to walk. “So what does your father say about you going off to war?”
“He fought on my behalf. I know he did. But if he can’t convince my mum … no one can.” Feeling comfortable, she added, “My father is Briec the Mighty, by the way. Not my blood father, but … you understand. My mum’s his mate.”
“Briec?” Branwen stopped and looked at her, her dark eyes wide. “You’re Briec’s daughter?”
Her sudden eagerness surprised Izzy a bit. Although Briec’s brothers and sisters had been welcoming, the other dragons—“the idiot royals,” as her grandfather would always mutter—had been tolerant of her, but she could easily tell they didn’t consider her anything but another human and a possible meal.
“Aye,” she said with a bit of confidence. “I am.”
Branwen slapped Izzy’s arm and Izzy grunted in pain. “Well then, you sobbing cow, you’re me cousin!”
Izzy blinked. “I am?”
“Aye! I’m a Cadwaladr. Briec’s cousin. Me mum is your grandfather’s sister. Which makes us second cousins … I think. Anyway, we’re kin. Ya know? Family.”
“All right then.” Izzy couldn’t ignore Branwen’s eagerness. She seemed so happy to know her.
“This is brilliant! Changes everything.”
“It does?”
Branwen threw her arm around Izzy’s shoulders. “Tell me, cousin, have you ever played Run and Jump?”
“No.”
“Well as your older cousin, it’s my right to teach it to you. That’s the beauty of blood relations.”
“Will it upset my mother?”
“Beyond comprehension, I’d wager.”
Izzy didn’t even hesitate. “Then lead the way, cousin.”
He could smell incense and herbs, fresh vegetables, and what smelled deliciously like stew.
Gwenvael slowly looked around him, confused about where he was and yet for some strange reason recognizing this place. It was a house. He’d dreamt about it long ago, yet he knew he’d never been here.
Maybe he wasn’t awake after all. He couldn’t really tell at the moment. He closed his eyes, but he caught those scents again. And, above them all, he scented her. His nostrils flared and his eyes opened again, his gaze searching her out. She was sitting at a small eating table beside the pit fire built into the wall. She had a metal cup in front of her and her head in her hands. Her head scarf and spectacles lay on the table, and her satchel was at her feet.
Seeing her there, alive and well, did more for him than anything else could.
Her head lifted from her hands and she turned in his direction. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. Instead she lowered her head and squinted at him.
“If you can’t see me, you lazy sow, put your bloody spectacles on.”
Her back straightened and she glared. “I see you perfectly, which is barely at all.”
“You’re keeping me waiting?”
“Until the end of time.”
Gwenvael stuck his lower lip out, shuddered a bit. “But I’m in such pain.”
“By all reason, have you no shame?”
“Not an ounce.” He held his arm out, hand open for her to take. “Now come here.”
Putting her spectacles back on, she rose from the chair and moved across the room. She placed her hand in his, and he tugged her close until she crouched beside him.
“Are you all right?” And he was no longer teasing, because be needed a straight answer to his question.
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” He kissed her knuckles. “Where are we?”
“The Outerplains between the Southland and Northland territories. By the Aatsa Mountains.”
“How the hell did we get here?”
“You brought us here.”
“I did? I don’t remember.”
“What do you remember?”
“Kissing you.” He grinned. “In the library stacks.”
“That, of course, you couldn’t be kind enough to forget.”
“Not ever. But do tell me, Lady Dagmar, why do I hurt? Did you try to skin me alive with your hidden passion?”
“My hidden … oh. Forget it. You’ve been through hell the last few hours is what happened. Kidnapped and tortured and a pitch battle with Horde dragons.”
“Really?” He lowered his head and his voice. “Am I fiercer to you now that you’ve seen me in battle? Do you want me more than you ever thought possible? Are you ready to take me at this moment?”
“Perhaps when the scabs fall off.”
Not knowing what she meant, Gwenvael looked down at his body. Horrified, he sat up. “What is this? What’s happened to me?”
“Calm down. It’ll heal quick enough, I’m sure.”
“Heal? I’m hideous!”
“You’re alive.”
“Hideously alive!” He covered her face with his hands. “Don’t look at me! Look away!”
“All right then, Izzy.”
“Oy!” a voice called from a distance behind them. “Branwen! Where are you, you dizzy cow?”
Branwen sighed. “That’s me idiot brother and me cousins.” She tugged Izzy’s arm and together they began to walk. “So what does your father say about you going off to war?”
“He fought on my behalf. I know he did. But if he can’t convince my mum … no one can.” Feeling comfortable, she added, “My father is Briec the Mighty, by the way. Not my blood father, but … you understand. My mum’s his mate.”
“Briec?” Branwen stopped and looked at her, her dark eyes wide. “You’re Briec’s daughter?”
Her sudden eagerness surprised Izzy a bit. Although Briec’s brothers and sisters had been welcoming, the other dragons—“the idiot royals,” as her grandfather would always mutter—had been tolerant of her, but she could easily tell they didn’t consider her anything but another human and a possible meal.
“Aye,” she said with a bit of confidence. “I am.”
Branwen slapped Izzy’s arm and Izzy grunted in pain. “Well then, you sobbing cow, you’re me cousin!”
Izzy blinked. “I am?”
“Aye! I’m a Cadwaladr. Briec’s cousin. Me mum is your grandfather’s sister. Which makes us second cousins … I think. Anyway, we’re kin. Ya know? Family.”
“All right then.” Izzy couldn’t ignore Branwen’s eagerness. She seemed so happy to know her.
“This is brilliant! Changes everything.”
“It does?”
Branwen threw her arm around Izzy’s shoulders. “Tell me, cousin, have you ever played Run and Jump?”
“No.”
“Well as your older cousin, it’s my right to teach it to you. That’s the beauty of blood relations.”
“Will it upset my mother?”
“Beyond comprehension, I’d wager.”
Izzy didn’t even hesitate. “Then lead the way, cousin.”
He could smell incense and herbs, fresh vegetables, and what smelled deliciously like stew.
Gwenvael slowly looked around him, confused about where he was and yet for some strange reason recognizing this place. It was a house. He’d dreamt about it long ago, yet he knew he’d never been here.
Maybe he wasn’t awake after all. He couldn’t really tell at the moment. He closed his eyes, but he caught those scents again. And, above them all, he scented her. His nostrils flared and his eyes opened again, his gaze searching her out. She was sitting at a small eating table beside the pit fire built into the wall. She had a metal cup in front of her and her head in her hands. Her head scarf and spectacles lay on the table, and her satchel was at her feet.
Seeing her there, alive and well, did more for him than anything else could.
Her head lifted from her hands and she turned in his direction. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. Instead she lowered her head and squinted at him.
“If you can’t see me, you lazy sow, put your bloody spectacles on.”
Her back straightened and she glared. “I see you perfectly, which is barely at all.”
“You’re keeping me waiting?”
“Until the end of time.”
Gwenvael stuck his lower lip out, shuddered a bit. “But I’m in such pain.”
“By all reason, have you no shame?”
“Not an ounce.” He held his arm out, hand open for her to take. “Now come here.”
Putting her spectacles back on, she rose from the chair and moved across the room. She placed her hand in his, and he tugged her close until she crouched beside him.
“Are you all right?” And he was no longer teasing, because be needed a straight answer to his question.
“I’m fine.”
“Good.” He kissed her knuckles. “Where are we?”
“The Outerplains between the Southland and Northland territories. By the Aatsa Mountains.”
“How the hell did we get here?”
“You brought us here.”
“I did? I don’t remember.”
“What do you remember?”
“Kissing you.” He grinned. “In the library stacks.”
“That, of course, you couldn’t be kind enough to forget.”
“Not ever. But do tell me, Lady Dagmar, why do I hurt? Did you try to skin me alive with your hidden passion?”
“My hidden … oh. Forget it. You’ve been through hell the last few hours is what happened. Kidnapped and tortured and a pitch battle with Horde dragons.”
“Really?” He lowered his head and his voice. “Am I fiercer to you now that you’ve seen me in battle? Do you want me more than you ever thought possible? Are you ready to take me at this moment?”
“Perhaps when the scabs fall off.”
Not knowing what she meant, Gwenvael looked down at his body. Horrified, he sat up. “What is this? What’s happened to me?”
“Calm down. It’ll heal quick enough, I’m sure.”
“Heal? I’m hideous!”
“You’re alive.”
“Hideously alive!” He covered her face with his hands. “Don’t look at me! Look away!”
