She still couldn’t believe it had only been two weeks since her life completely changed. She went from homeless, motherless bastard wandering the land with three very poor soldiers to merely a bastard. But she had a home now. And a mother. A mother she loved. She’d loved her before she knew her, but the risk still remained her mother could have turned out to be a horrible, beastly woman. She wasn’t. She was amazing. And so funny. If there was one thing Izzy loved to do, it was laugh. Her mother kept her laughing—constantly.
“Finally.” Talaith, who told her it was up to her if she wanted to call her mother, gripped her hips and turned her around so that mother and daughter faced each other. She frowned deeply at Izzy’s chest. “I don’t much like how low-cut this is.”
Izzy glanced down. “Why? It’s not like I have anything to speak of.”
“Yet. If you’re anything like me, you’re a late bloomer. Still, this is cut awfully low.” Suddenly her mother’s hands gripped the bodice of her dress and pulled up.
Rolling her eyes in exasperation and batting at her mother’s hands, “There will be other girls there my age and they will have similar gowns.”
“Don’t care. It’s up to their mothers if they want them seen as whores.”
The two looked at each other. It was Izzy’s snort that forced them into a fit of giggles.
“That’s a horrible thing to say!”
“Perhaps.” Talaith picked up a rose garland from off the bed. Izzy wasn’t old enough yet to have flowers threaded through her hair like her mother’s. But the garland was beautiful and smelled wonderful. “But just you remember, daughter. Achaius will be watching out for you tonight.” Achaius had taken Annwyl’s offer of staying, while her two other Protectors planned to return to their homes and families after the feast.
“Any of these lusty soldiers get within five feet and they’ll regret it.”
“You and Achaius have been strategizing again,” Izzy complained. They did that a lot, it seemed.
Talaith placed the garland on Izzy’s head and adjusted it until she gave a satisfied sniff. “That’ll do.”
She stepped back and looked her daughter over. She smiled, but it quickly turned into another frown. Crouching, Talaith lifted the hem of Izzy’s dress a bit. “What are these on your feet? Where are the slippers I gave you?”
Izzy looked down at the leather boots she wore, fitted with blades on both sides. Annwyl lent them to her. They both had equally huge feet. “Slippers? What if I have to run for my life or fight an animal to the death? Can’t do that in those girly slippers now can I?”
Turning, Izzy headed toward the door, but she could hear her mother mumbling under her breath, “Yes, you’re my daughter all right.”
* * *
Fearghus sighed. “Move your ass, woman.”
“Control yourself, dragon,” Annwyl called back from the connecting room she kept as her own. She filled it with her clothes, armor, weapons and books. Always books for his Annwyl. But when they were together, they shared the same bed.
“Explain to me again why we’re having this party.” He’d much prefer spending the evening eating something hearty and then burying himself balls-deep in his woman until morning. Parties, like most things besides Annwyl, bored him.
“It’s not a party. It’s a feast. And it’s in honor of my men, their families and whatever else you want to think of.”
Stretched out on the bed, Fearghus threw one arm over his eyes. “Can’t they have their feast without us?”
“You’re whining, Fearghus. Don’t whine. Now, how do I look?”
He lowered his arm, his breath catching at the sight of her. Annwyl hadn’t even worn a dress at her coronation. Why she decided to wear one tonight, he had no idea, but he’d be eternally grateful. A deep, dark forest green, the dress molded to her every curve, hugging tight across her large br**sts. The tight sleeves reached to the middle of her hands, covering his markings, and a piece of velvet looped around the middle finger on each hand, holding the sleeves in place. Her golden brown hair, threaded through with green flowers, reached below her waist.
But leave it to his Annwyl—she still had two swords tied to her back. Of course, they weren’t her big battle swords, but a pair he’d had made for her with jeweled hilts—the blades still sharp as sin, though.
“You look beautiful.”
After everything they’d done together, everything they’d been through, he still had the ability to make her blush.
“Um…thank you.”
He held his hand out to her. “Come here, Queen Annwyl.”
She took a step toward him, then stopped. “Oh, no. You’ll not get me that easy, knight.” She still hadn’t realized that when she desired him, she always went back to what she originally used to call his human form before she knew the dragon and the man were all the same being. “They’re expecting us. We have guests to greet.”
Fearghus growled. “I said come here.”
With a less than queen-like squeal, Annwyl dashed back into her room. Before she disappeared, Fearghus saw she wore leather boots, blades shoved into the sides. My Annwyl. He’d have her no other way…except on her back.
He charged off the bed and snatched the door leading from their room to the hall open. She’d just come out of the other room. When she saw him, she squealed again and ran toward the stairs. He followed, both of them pushing past some of the highest human and dragon royalty in the land. A few they knocked into the wall. Neither cared.