A Tale Of Two Dragons

Chapter 9

Braith would admit, she’d expected rougher treatment from the Queen’s Guard as they entered Devenallt Mountain. But the Guards were actually quite . . . kind. Perhaps they appreciated her preventing a battle between them and the Cadwaladr Clan. Because they all knew—it would have been a battle the Guards would have lost even though their brothers-in-arms would have eventually avenged them.

In the end, though, Braith had simply not seen the point of all those dragons fighting and dying. Her father was a traitor. And getting the Guards killed would have only turned the Cadwaladrs into traitors as well. It was something Braith was not willing to put into motion.

So, she did what her mother would have done—faced the Queen.

The Guards led her to the Queen’s throne room, the royals watching Braith from the shadows. There were no curses tossed at her. No threats of retribution for her father’s betrayal. They just watched her and said nothing. She didn’t know how to take that, so she didn’t bother to think on it.

When she stood before the Queen’s throne, she sat back on her haunches and briefly bowed her head. “My Queen.”

Addiena’s cold blue eyes slowly turned toward Braith. “Well, well,” the Queen said softly. “The traitor’s daughter.”

Addolgar leaned around the corner and saw the guards standing outside the Queen’s throne room. He pulled back and faced his siblings. “We’ll never get past those guards without killing them,” he whispered.

Ghleanna shrugged and began to pull out her sword, but Bercelak slapped her claw with his own. “We’re not killing the Queen’s Guards. We’re part of her army.”

“Then what do you suggest?”

“Father said we need to buy him time.”

“For what?” Addolgar asked. He still didn’t know what his father was up to. And based on the way both his siblings shrugged . . . they didn’t know either.

“Let’s just do what he asks and hope for the best,” Ghleanna suggested.

“But how?”

“We could start a brawl. We’re always good at that.”

“Or . . . ,” Bercelak began, but then his voice trailed off and Addolgar realized his brother had caught sight of one of the Queen’s daughters. Princess Rhiannon. Everyone in the family knew of Bercelak’s never-ending—and fruitless—obsession with the meanest royal in all of the Southlands.

She was walking by when Bercelak quickly stepped in front of her—completely forgetting about poor Braith!

“Princess Rhiannon,” he said.

The white She-dragon looked up at him, her lip curling back over bright, white fangs. “Low Born.”

“It’s good to see you too.”

Ghleanna’s eyes crossed in exasperation—Rhiannon was their brother’s one and only true weakness—while Addolgar stamped his claw and snarled at his brother, “What are you doing? We’re running out of time!”

Rhiannon suddenly focused on Addolgar and he had to admit—he didn’t really like it.

“Running out of time for what?” Her eyes narrowed. “Are you planning to kidnap me?”

“Can we?” Bercelak asked.

Ghleanna slapped the back of Bercelak’s head and Addolgar admitted the truth: “We’re trying to stop an execution.”

“An execution? Oh. You mean poor Braith of the Darkness,” she said casually. “Oh, yes. My mother will definitely have her dead in the next five minutes.”

“Well, I don’t want that,” Addolgar said, horrified.

“Why do you care?”

“I just do!”

“She saved his life,” Ghleanna explained.

“And like the loyal fight dogs that you are, you feel the need to rush in and rescue her from the scary demon dragoness?”

“You mean your mother?” Ghleanna asked.

“There’s no proof of that.”

“You have her eyes.”

“It’s like you want me to have you killed,” the princess snapped back at Ghleanna.

“This isn’t helping Braith!” Addolgar exploded. “We just need to buy some time.”

Rhiannon sighed dramatically, eyes rolling. She glanced around, reached into a small group of young males, and pulled one out.

“Bram, my dearest friend. These low borns need your help. Introduce yourselves, all, because I’ll not remember you, much less this conversation in the next five minutes.”

“Bercelak. Addolgar.” The young dragon greeted them, his gaze lingering a little long on Addolgar’s sister. “Ghleanna.”

Bercelak frowned. “Do we know you?”

“I’m Bram,” the dragon said, appearing confused. “I stayed with your parents last summer.”

“Oh.” Ghleanna glanced at them. “Right. Uh . . . Brogue.”

“Bram.”

“Right. Bram. Bram the . . . Friendly?”

“Merciful.”

“Of course!” Ghleanna smiled, patted his shoulder. “Bram the Merciful. My father speaks quite highly of you.”

“Really? What did he say?”

“Uh . . .”

“We don’t have time for this!” Addolgar pushed Ghleanna out of the way and grabbed the young dragon’s forearm. “Just go in there and do something, whoever you are.”

“Do what?”

“They’re trying to stop the execution of Braith of the Darkness,” Rhiannon stated, still calmly.

“Well, that execution’s practically written in stone.”

“Then unwrite it!” Addolgar barked. “Or I’ll go in there and lay waste to everyone!”

Not liking that response, Bercelak snarled, so Addolgar added, “Everyone but the Queen.”

“Then you’re of no use to me,” the princess muttered.

“Rhiannon,” the young, unknown dragon chastised. “Remember our discussion about things to say out loud and things to keep in one’s head? This is a keeper.”

Bercelak suddenly stepped into the young dragon. “You seem awfully familiar with Princess Rhiannon.”

Blinking up at Bercelak, the dragon stuttered, “Uh . . . well . . . uh . . .”

“Gods, Bercelak.” Ghleanna shoved Bercelak aside and caught hold of the young male. “Go in there, Bram, and do whatever is necessary to get us some time. Can you handle that?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Now go.”

Bram the Whatever rushed off toward the throne room.

“Where’s Da?” Addolgar demanded.

“He’ll be here. But you need to calm down,” his sister warned.

Bercelak, uninterested in any of this, faced the princess again. He smiled and she, in turn, sneered. “Low borns. I have absolutely no use for them.” However, she did nod at Addolgar. “Good luck saving Braith’s life, Cadwaladr. You probably won’t, but . . . good luck just the same.”

She turned, the sharp tip of her white tail nearly slicing Bercelak’s snout in two before she disappeared into a nearby chamber.

“You do realize you don’t have a chance with her, don’t you?” Ghleanna asked their younger brother.

“Shut up before I remove your scales.”

“Your father’s betrayal,” the Queen went on, “does not sit well with me, Braith of the Darkness.”

And Braith didn’t bother replying to that or anything else the Queen said. What was the point? Braith could tell by the way this was going that nothing would save her, and speaking out would probably only make it worse. In fact, she hoped if she kept silent the end would be quick. So she kept her eyes lowered and waited for it all to be over.

“Uh . . . excuse me, Your Majesty?” a voice said from behind Braith.

She didn’t turn around, but she could hear another dragon moving up behind her.

“What is it, Bram?” the Queen testily asked.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, Your Majesty, but I was hoping to involve myself in this.”

“Involve yourself?”

“Uh . . . yes. Involve myself. With Braith’s defense.”

“Defense?”

“Why, yes, Your Majesty. Braith will get a defense, won’t she? Since the accusation has been against her father and not actually Braith herself. Correct?”

There was a long, painful pause, and Braith expected the Queen to order her guards to just cleave off Braith’s head. No one would exactly be surprised if she did, and the way the entire chamber became quiet . . .

Braith simply closed her eyes and waited, but in the silence, she heard something. The sound of wood striking stone and it kept moving closer.

It was curious how everyone became so silent, even the Queen. Unable to wait any longer, Braith looked over her shoulder. And that’s when she saw Brigida the Foul slowly moving across the throne room, her dragon body leaning heavily on her wooden walking stick, her left back claw dragging behind her as if unable to function at all.

As she moved forward, everyone stepped out of her way. Royals, guards . . . everyone. Braith had never seen anything quite like it.

Brigida was a Cadwaladr. Not mated into the Clan but born into it like Ailean and Addolgar and all the rest. She was, as far as Southland royalty was concerned . . . a low-born dragon. And royals didn’t move back from low-born dragons unless they needed the low borns to remove a half-eaten carcass. Yet no one approached Brigida. No one stopped her. And the Queen gazed at her with something that Braith truly believed to be fear.

“Gods,” Bram whispered to her. “This was Ailean’s idea to save you?”

Braith could only shrug, because she had no idea what the Cadwaladrs were planning. Which, at the moment, was the most horrifying thing about all this.

Addolgar looked at his siblings, but all they could do was shrug helplessly. Why their father would send Brigida to help Braith, he didn’t know. The Queen was not a fan of witches in general, and seemed to loathe White Dragonwitches specifically. No one knew why, but many suspected it had to do with her daughter, Rhiannon. Rhiannon was a white She-dragon after all. But she did not seem to have the same level of mystical power that Brigida or the few other White Dragonwitches of the Southlands had.

But, honestly, none of that mattered. Not with Braith’s life on the line.

“Come on,” Ghleanna said, tugging at Addolgar’s forearm. She headed inside the chamber, Addolgar and Bercelak following. The guards let them by, but watched closely.

Brigida was still making her very slow way across the chamber toward the Queen.

Addolgar was about to storm around her one way while Bercelak went the other, but Ghleanna caught them both by the hair and yanked them back.

“But—” Addolgar began.

“We follow,” Ghleanna whispered.

“She’s moving like a snail,” Bercelak grumbled.

“We follow,” Ghleanna insisted.

So they did . . . very slowly. Painfully slowly. Addolgar hadn’t known anything could move that slowly and still be moving.

Even stranger, though, was the fact that everyone waited for Brigida. They watched. They waited. They moved out of her way. The She-dragon was clearly feared by one and all in this hall.

Except Braith, he realized. She’d been the only one he’d ever met, even among his kin, willing to brazenly, as Brigida called it, “back talk” her.

He found something rather endearing about that. Well . . . maybe not endearing. But charming. No. Not charming.

Cute. It was cute. She was cute. Very, very cute.

“Stop staring at her!” Ghleanna whispered.

“Huh?”

“At Braith,” she continued to whisper. “Stop staring at her like you’re planning to kill her yourself.”

“Was I?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

“That is such an open-ended question,” Bercelak scoffed.

“Nothing,” Addolgar replied. “I was just thinking.”

“About what?”

“How cute she is,” he answered honestly.

Bercelak stopped. “Brigida?”

Addolgar thought on that a moment. “I don’t know if I’d call Brigida cute. Would you, Ghleanna?”

Ghleanna stopped, covered her eyes with her claws. “You two have to be the dumbest centaur-fuckers ever.”

“Gods, you are so hostile,” Bercelak complained.

“I was thinking that,” Addolgar agreed.

Braith didn’t know what Ailean’s offspring were doing. They kept stopping and bickering. Stopping and bickering. Even worse, they kept whispering—but they were in a cave chamber . . . everyone could hear them.

And, at first, Braith thought that Addolgar was suggesting she was cute but then Bercelak mentioned Brigida . . . ?

Was this really how the end of her life would look? Really?

“You must have faith,” Bram said low, his voice managing not to carry.

“Faith? In what?”

His smile was small but there. “In them.”

Perhaps Bram the Merciful was right. The Cadwaladrs were known to successfully manage two things—fix things completely or make them a thousand times worse.

And since she didn’t see how any of this could get worse . . .

“My Queen!” Brigida greeted Addiena when she finally arrived before her throne. “How good to see you looking so well.”

“And you . . . you look . . .” Addiena let out a breath. “So what brings you here, dear Brigida the White?” Only the title one received at hatching was used while in the Queen’s chamber. But Braith was sure everyone was thinking “foul.”

“Ahh, my dear sweet Majesty. I’ve come here to offer my assistance in such a trying time.”

“Trying time?” the Queen asked.

“The betrayal of Elder Emyr. How horrifying for you. That such betrayal was going on here, right under your beautiful snout.”

The Queen’s eyes narrowed into slits and Braith began wondering again if anyone would actually claim her headless corpse or if it would be tossed off the side of Devenallt Mountain.

“Even his poor daughter, Braith here, has no idea why her father did this. Or that he was about to do it. She was trapped in his horrible web of deceit and lies.” Brigida reached over and patted Braith on the shoulder. She’d flinched away, but a claw on her opposite side from Bram kept her from moving anywhere. “He’s betrayed us all, my lady.”

“And what do you suggest we do about that?”

“He must be caught and brought back for trial as soon as possible. There is no other way. You must try and convict Elder Lord Emyr. No one else can do it but you, Your Majesty . . . and Elder Lord Emyr himself must know the true wrath of your domain.” Brigida’s head tilted to the side and the entire chamber cringed at the sounds coming from her old neck. “Don’t you agree, Your Majesty?”

The Queen studied Brigida for a long moment, her mind turning, searching—desperately, by the looks of it—for a way out of this. She wanted an execution and she wanted one now. But Brigida the Foul had made a very good point. To execute Emyr’s daughter—who hadn’t been caught while escaping with her kin, but debating what to do next with the loyal Cadwaladrs—rather than Emyr himself, would put a dark stain on Queen Addiena’s reign.

Since, Braith was guessing, there would be many dark stains Addiena had to worry about during her reign, she was most likely weighing whether having Braith’s head now would be worth it later.

Braith, however, wouldn’t bother to get her hopes up. She had no faith in . . . anything at the moment. So she just stood there, waiting for the ax to fall—literally and figuratively—until she felt something brush against her spine. She glanced behind her and saw Addolgar. He gave her a small wink and the tiniest smile, and, Braith would be forced to admit, she’d never felt so . . . safe before. Not safe in the sense that her head would not go rolling across the chamber floor, but just that someone, other than herself or her still-missed mother, actually cared for her. That someone was watching out for her.

And that someone was Addolgar.

“You have a very good point, Brigida the White,” Addiena finally stated. “But what will I do with Braith the Blue?”

“My liege,” Brigida practically purred, “that’s very simple.” She focused those cold, dead eyes at Braith, sending a chill down her spine. “We send Braith the Blue to bring back her father—dead or alive.”

Addolgar had his claw on Braith’s back so he felt her entire body go rigid at Brigida’s words. And he understood why. He wouldn’t want to have to hunt down his father either. Mostly because his father scared him a little and Addolgar was quite sure the old dragon would kick his ass, but still . . .

“Me?” Braith said. “You want me to hunt my father?”

It was the perfect reaction, wasn’t it? The perfect reaction for the Queen. To see Braith’s fear, her absolute horror at the prospect. If she’d been eager, the Queen would have immediately said no. But there was no eagerness there—and the Queen loved it. She lived on others’ misery.

“Aye,” the Queen said, her smile so wide, her bright white fangs nearly blinding everyone in the entire chamber. “You will hunt your father. Hunt him down and bring him to me. Or,” she added for good measure, “I’ll assume you were part of all this.”

The Queen leaned in a bit, the tip of her tail eagerly scratching against the stone flooring. “That you were a part of it . . . and anyone who may have helped you was part of it as well.”

Braith’s mouth dropped open in shock that the Queen was openly threatening all the Cadwaladrs who’d been at Ailean’s castle during her stay, and she immediately looked to Addolgar, then Ghleanna. She glanced at Bercelak, but quickly sneered, before moving her gaze back to Addolgar. She stared at him for several seconds before focusing again on the Queen.

“Your Majesty—” Braith began.

“She’ll do it,” Addolgar quickly said for her, terrified she was going to do something stupid and “honorable.”

Braith glowered at Addolgar. “What are you doing?” she demanded between clenched fangs.

“Stopping you from being an idiot.” He grinned at the Queen. “She’ll do it, Your Majesty. And I’ll go with her to assist in bringing this traitor to justice.”

“I cannot hunt down my own—”

Braith’s eyes grew wide, her claws reaching for her throat.

“Aunt Brigida?” Addolgar pushed.

The old She-dragon smirked while Braith tried desperately to breathe. “Yes, dear?”

The invisible binding around her throat disappeared, and Braith took in big gulps of air. She really hated when Brigida did that to her.

“Aye,” the Queen said, her grin even wider than before. “This is all a very good idea.”

Cruel, heartless bitch. No wonder Princess Rhiannon hated her mother. Now Braith hated Rhiannon’s mother, too.

Bad enough asking her to hunt down her own father but to threaten the Cadwaladrs merely for helping Braith . . . where was the honor in that? Braith’s mum would have asked.

“Glad I could be of service to you, my Queen,” Brigida replied, her grin showing several rows of fangs, proving she had to be one of the oldest mortal She-dragons living.

“But wait,” the Queen said when Brigida began to slowly turn to leave. “You know, I think I’d feel better if I had a little extra protection.”

“Extra protection?” Brigida asked, casting her gaze over the armed and well-trained Queen’s Guard that surrounded the Queen and filled the chamber.

“Aye!” She pointed. “Ghleanna can stay. She can help keep me safe.” She lowered her head, those blue eyes on Braith. “Keep me confident.”

“Ghleanna?” Addolgar asked. “Yeah. All right.”

Braith faced him. “Are you mad?”

“Mad at what?”

She briefly gritted her fangs. “You cannot leave your sister here, Addolgar.”

“Why not?” He looked at Ghleanna. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Ghleanna shrugged. “Nah.”

“See? She doesn’t mind.”

“I don’t care if she minds. We’re not—” Braith stopped to yank the walking stick from Brigida’s claw. “Choke me again, old hag, and I will beat you to death with this thing!” She turned back to Addolgar. “Now, we are all leaving here together or I’m—”

“Just go,” Ghleanna pushed. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yes, but—”

“If you’re worried,” Bercelak sighed out, “I can stay with her.”

Ghleanna blinked. “I don’t need you to stay with me.”

“I didn’t ask if I could stay with you. But I’m staying with you.”

“Piss off,” Ghleanna told her brother.

“You piss off.”

That’s when Ghleanna pushed Bercelak. Who pushed her back. So she punched his shoulder. Bercelak went to punch her shoulder, but Ghleanna caught him by the wrist and twisted his forearm around his back. He reached back with his free forearm and caught her by the hair. Then they were a rolling, pummeling mass of black dragon scales thundering across the throne room floor.

Brigida snatched back her walking stick from Braith and headed toward the exit. “Come along, you two,” she called back. “We have much work to do.”

“Wait!” the Queen called out. “You can’t leave us alone with two battling Cadwaladrs!”

“Don’t worry, Your Majesty,” Addolgar explained while gripping Braith’s forearm and dragging her toward the exit. “Once they knock each other out, you’ll have hours of quiet before they start again.”

“Before they . . . what?”

Addolgar pulled Braith out of the chamber and around a corner. Even from there, he could still hear his siblings fighting in the throne room. He didn’t know why they bothered. Everyone knew that Ghleanna would beat Bercelak within an inch of his life.... She never bothered to fight fair when it came to her siblings.

After a time, Brigida came around the corner.

“Come along, you two,” she said again.

Addolgar quickly noticed that now that Brigida was out of the Queen’s sight, her limp seemed to have lessened so much that it was nearly nonexistent. And her entire body moved much more fluidly . . . as if she were considerably younger.

They walked in silence until they neared the mountain’s exit. That was when Braith finally spoke up.

“I can’t do this,” she said.

“You can and you will,” Brigida told her. “You’ll find that old bastard and you’ll drag his lizard ass back here.”

“He’s my father.”

Brigida stopped and spun around, her dragon body powerful and strong as if she were centuries younger. Even Addolgar’s parents didn’t move that easy.

“I don’t give a shit, Braith of the Darkness. He’s a traitor to this Queen’s reign and a danger. You don’t need to kill him, but you do need to bring him here.” She leaned in close and he saw Braith’s claws curl into fists. “Think of it as a matter of honor. Your father may be doomed, but the honor of your family line won’t be if you return him. And isn’t that what matters for the memory of your dear . . . mum?” she finished on a whisper.

Addolgar, claws quick after being raised among his kin, caught Braith before she could attempt to rip Brigida’s head off and end up a sad little frog or pet chicken.

“Good,” Brigida said with a big smile. “Glad we’ve agreed.”

She moved around Braith and stepped out of the mountain and onto the ledge. “You’ll track your father down. He and your brothers and that female who tried to kill Addolgar are heading toward the Northlands. He’s taking a longer, safer route than flying over the sea, so you do have a bit of time, but not much. You’ll want to grab him before he reaches the Northlands.”

“What about Ghleanna?” Braith asked, her voice filled with concern for a She-dragon who only yesterday had physically fought her.

“What about her?”

“I don’t feel right leaving her with the Queen as a hostage. Even with Bercelak here—”

“Bercelak?” Brigida laughed a little before unfurling her wings and heading up to the top of Devenallt Mountain.

Addolgar motioned to Braith and together they followed her.

This high up, it was cold on the mountaintop. There was ice and snow. And there were Cadwaladrs. They dotted the mountain like crows on a tree. And more kept landing. One after another after another.

Brigida faced Addolgar and Braith. “You see,” she said. “Ghleanna is not alone. A Cadwaladr is never alone.” The old She-dragon moved in closer, pressed the top part of her walking stick against the middle of Braith’s chest. “And you don’t have to be alone either. But we all make our own choices, Braith of the Darkness. And I’ve made mine. Now track down your father and bring him here.” Brigida stepped back, her forearms lifting away from her body. “Or you alone will be responsible for the civil war between the Cadwaladrs and the Queen’s Guard when we tear this place apart to get dear, sweet, defenseless Ghleanna from the bowels of Devenallt Mountain.”

“Dear sweet, defenseless Ghleanna?” one of the Cadwaladrs called out. “Since when did centaurs fly?”

Then all the Cadwaladrs laughed, including Addolgar. Because it was funny.

But the way Braith was gawking at him . . . he sensed she didn’t see the humor.