Ghleanna sat on the stairs that led to the next floor of rooms. She had one of her axes in her lap and was sharpening the blade.
“No offense to you, Ghleanna, but that noise—”
“I know. I know. Why did you think I offered to take first watch? Hew’s the worst of the lot, though, with Addolgar a close second.”
He motioned to the steps. “Mind if I join you or are you still mad at me for what I said earlier?”
Ghleanna hadn’t spoken to him since they’d left her father’s lands, and Bram knew he should have stayed out of it—but he couldn’t. Her rage at her father was unwarranted and for some reason none of her kin would tell her so.
In answer to Bram’s question, however, Ghleanna simply moved over a bit and placed her axe on the landing behind her.
Bram sat down beside her, and asked, “Too close?” “Not so’s I mind.”
Bram nodded and stared straight ahead. “Any trouble so far tonight?” he asked when the silence began to choke him to death.
“Nay. Quiet as a tomb.”
“Do you think a watch is necessary?”
“If my brother Bercelak is worried for your safety—it’s better to err on the side of caution.”
They sat in silence for a few more minutes until Bram asked, “Is that what taking first watch entails? Sitting around, sharpening your weapons . . . and waiting?”
“Mostly.”
“No books to read?”
“Don’t need any.”
“No one to talk to?”
“Too much chatter gets on my nerves.”
“Do you ever find yourself wishing for an attack of some kind to help with the boredom?”
“Not really.”
Bram gazed at her. “You truly are a soldier, aren’t you?”
“Me mum used to say I came out of my egg saluting and already in formation. Not sure I believe her, though.”
Bram chuckled. “I adore your mother. One of the kindest dragons I’ve ever known.”
“Aye. That she is.”
“And skilled with the written word as well.”
Ghleanna shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. Not much of a reader.”
“Well, tell me, because there’s always been some debate among my friends and I, and your mother won’t admit anything one way or the other—did your mother help your father write those books of his?”
Bram, finally enjoying their late-night conversation, thought it was an innocent enough question—until the tip of one of Ghleanna’s blades pressed against his throat, her black eyes angry as she glared at him.
Apparently not an innocent question at all.
Seething with rage, Ghleanna hissed, “You dare bring up those books to me, royal?” The series of books that had chronicled her father’s sexual escapades before he met Shalin—the damn things were still bestsellers. “Do you think I won’t cut your throat and leave you bleeding out on these steps like a cow used for sacrifice? Do you think Rhiannon can protect you from me?”
His gaze on hers, his voice steady, the royal stated, “I meant no offense, Captain. Although I don’t know why you’d be so offended.”
“Of course you wouldn’t,” she snapped back. “The daughter of a whore’s just a whore herself, right? You want to think I’m no more choosey about my bedmates than my father—fine. But don’t you dare bring my mother into it. She’s the purest thing my father’s had in his life and I’ll not have you sully it with your—”
“Wait.” He was remarkably calm considering the fact that she had her favorite blade to his human throat—opening a main artery was a sure way to kill a dragon in human form. “I don’t think we understand each other.”
“We understand each other quite well. No wonder you’ve been so bloody nice to me. You’re no better than the rest. Be nice to me, talk sweet to me, tell me my father adores me, then get me on my back or my knees, so you can run around telling everyone how you f**ked the slag’s daughter. Isn’t that it, royal?”
“Ghleanna,” he began slowly, speaking to her as if she were a very slow child, and she knew some centaur-shit soothing words would leave his mouth. He was well known throughout the kingdom for his ability to talk himself out of any situation. Yet she had to say . . . she was curious to see where he’d go. “I know that your father—and especially your mother—did not write the books you speak of. From what I understand, they were written without Ailean’s knowledge or consent. Those are not the books I meant.”
Ghleanna frowned. “Then what are you talking about?”
“The book your father wrote about handling close-quarter combat with Lightnings. Another about fighting human legions in open battlefields with no trees or mountains for cover. And there’s another on tactical maneuvers in the Western Mountains when fighting the barbarian tribes. He dedicated that one to you because of your work there a few decades back before you received your captain’s rank. But my favorite is about his peacekeeping efforts in the Outerplains between humans and dragons. He had some brilliant suggestions on how to use what he did there with all humans in the Southlands to ease negotiations. Of course, a lot of dragons think it’s a scandalous and outrageous book because his insane suggestions included things like not eating humans, not destroying their villages, not stomping on them for fun. Your father has some very unorthodox ideas,” Bram finished with a smile.