Addolgar sprinted to her side, his forearms reaching around her.
“Braith? What is it?”
Panting, barely able to breathe, it seemed, she stuttered out, “I . . . I . . . I almost died. I almost died. I almost died.”
Then it hit him—she wasn’t invincible at all. She was, however, one of the strongest females he’d ever known. Because she’d lasted this long without having a full-on panic attack, and that was much longer than he would have lasted if he’d been in her place. Much longer.
Braith didn’t care that she was making a fool of herself. She didn’t care that she couldn’t breathe, that she was babbling, that she was wrapping her forearms around Addolgar the Cheerful and holding him tight. She didn’t care.
Because an hour ago . . . she’d thought her life would end on a cold stone floor in the Queen’s throne room.
Big claws stroked her back and hair, while he held her tight against his warm body, where she felt safe. It was the safest she’d felt since her father had summoned her a few days ago.
When Braith’s panting calmed down enough that she could hear again, she realized Addolgar was speaking to her.
“You’re going to be all right, Braith. We’re going to get through this together. I promise.”
Gods, he was trying to make her feel better. His sister was being held hostage, his entire family was about to start a civil war that could get them all killed, and he was being forced to track down a traitor outside of Southland borders with a panicking, pathetic female—and he was trying to make her feel better.
Appalled, Braith quickly pulled away from him.
“I’m so sorry, Addolgar.”
“Sorry? For what?”
“For being . . . pathetic. Weak. I’m of the Penarddun bloodline and I should have been strong—”
Braith’s words were cut off because Addolgar had wrapped his claw around her snout, keeping it closed.
“Pathetic?” he asked. “Weak? You? After what you’ve just been through? You held your head up the entire time. You never showed Addiena or Brigida your fear. A fear you had every right to have. So don’t talk centaur shit to me about you being pathetic or weak. I won’t hear it. I won’t tolerate it. And once you understand that, you and I will get along just fine.”
He released her snout. “Now what do you have to say?”
“I . . . um . . .” She swallowed tears of gratitude, unwilling to be even more of a mess in front of Addolgar. “I’m thirsty.”
He grinned. “So am I. Let’s get some water from the lake and figure out what our next steps should be. Sound like a plan to you?”Braith nodded. “A very good plan.”
“Excellent!” He gripped her claw in his and pulled her toward the lake. “And I stole some oxen jerky out of Bercelak’s bag. He makes the best oxen jerky.”
“Bercelak the Vengeful cooks?”
“Aye. And he’s surprisingly good at it, too!”
They traveled late into the night until they could go no farther. Exhausted, they finally stopped near a town. Addolgar would prefer to stay in the woods for the night, but they were in a more densely populated area, filled with humans. So whether they stayed in the woods or not, they’d have to do it as human or risk some farmer or late-traveling merchant stumbling across two sleeping dragons. It was not a good way to start the day, in his estimation. Burning a bunch of humans crispy for nothing more than being in the wrong place at the wrong time. True, Bercelak would do it, but he had little to no tolerance when it came to humans. He thought they should all burn. Or, at the very least, be nothing more than cattle for dragon meals.
They shifted to their human forms and dug into their travel bags for their clothes.
With a comical little expression on her face, Braith pulled out the clothes Ghleanna had put together for her. She held them up for Addolgar to see.
“Your sister seems to have a love of chain mail.”
Addolgar chuckled. “She’s Cadwaladr. All my sisters love chain mail except Maelona, who has no desire to pick up a blade or an ax. Never has.” He studied her as she slipped the clothes on. They fit her, but barely. Especially around the shoulders. She moved her arms, trying to stretch the material out a bit.
“Have you thought about getting in some military training?” he asked as he pulled on his own clothes.
She shrugged. “Actually . . . I have. But my father was against it. He said royals shouldn’t lower themselves to being a military force.”
“Some of the best kings and queens the Southland dragons have had fought in battle. Addiena’s mother was a battle mage for many years before she took the throne.”
“I don’t disagree with you, but—”
“Your father no longer matters in your future, Braith. Once we’re done with this, it’ll be all down to you.”
She sighed. “I still don’t know how I’m going to do this, Addolgar. Turn in my own father?”
“I’ll be right by your side.” He tugged on his boots, then added, “In fact, let’s think of this a different way.”
“And what way is that?”
“Instead of you bringing in your father . . . you’re retrieving Lady Katarina, while I’m bringing in your father.”
“And what does that word play actually do, Addolgar?”
“Take the pressure off. You think too much of words,” he explained while he stood. “They have all this meaning for you.” Addolgar reached down and grasped her hands, lifting her to her feet. “So use all that meaning to your benefit. I’ll bring in your father while you’ll bring in Katarina. Now, what about your brothers?”