“No. I’m certain they all hate me.”
“Don’t be so full of yourself—my brothers barely know you exist.”
Now he looked insulted. “So I’m meaningless?”
“To a Cadwaladr . . . yes.”
“Then I’m so glad it’s the Cadwaladrs protecting me.”
And that sarcasm lashed across the room.
“You don’t have to take it so personally. Most royals don’t matter to us. So you don’t especially not exist to us. You’re just one of many royals that don’t exist to us.”
“Is any of that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Thought it might help.”
“It didn’t.”
“I hope you don’t always take things so personally. It’ll be a long trip for us both if you do.”
“Thanks so much for the warning.” He dug through his travel bag again. “Blast and damnation! I can’t find—”
“The terms of your proposed alliance agreement?” Charles asked, holding out a scroll to the royal.
“Oh,” Bram said, taking the scroll. “There it is.”
With a weary sigh, Ghleanna dropped into a chair and put her feet up on the table.
“Oh, my Lady!” Charles cried, horrified. “Please.” He rushed to the table and carefully lifted Ghleanna’s boot-shod feet so he could remove the books and papers from under them.
“Sorry, Charlie,” Ghleanna said with a smile. “And you can call me Ghleanna. I’m not a royal like Bram over there.”
“Of course, my Lady . . . uh . . . Lady Gh—I mean ... uh . . .”
“Or just Captain. You can call me Captain.”
Appearing heartily relieved at being able to use a title, Charles smiled and said, “Yes, Captain.”
Once he’d cleaned off the area, he returned her feet to their proper place.
“There you go, Captain.” He turned back to Bram. “I’ll gather all you require, my Lord.”
“Excellent.”
Ghleanna waited until Charles had rushed off before she asked, “Does he know then? What we are?”
“He knows what I am—and I’m sure he’s guessed about you. I simply don’t have time to run around hiding that particular fact from my assistant.” Bram leaned against the table and asked Ghleanna, “Now, what about your battalion?”
“What about them?”
“Can’t a few of them accompany us?”
“Are we here again? My brothers do not hate you,” she insisted.
“They don’t exactly respect me either.”
“They don’t respect anyone but our mother.”
“Well, I understand that. Your mother’s amazing.”
“I know.” Amazing and smart enough not to be taken as a fool by any male. She’d made Ailean work for her love, and work he did. “And I’m nothing like her.”
“You have her freckles.”
“You mean these bloody dots on my face?” She swiped at her face with her hands.
“You can’t rub them off, Ghleanna,” Bram told her with a laugh.
“I know. I know. I just hate having them.”
“I like them.” And he smiled a little. Was he laughing at her?
“Yeah . . . well . . .” She lowered her hands, forcing herself not to act so self-conscious. “You don’t have to live with them.”
He continued to stare at her, making her nervous, when he finally observed, “You’re letting your hair grow out.”
“What? Oh.” She refused to run her hands through her hair. “Haven’t had much call lately to keep it short.”
She shrugged and pulled out one of the blades she kept in her boot. “Guess I can do that now.”
He caught hold of her hand. “What are you planning to do with that?”
“Cut my hair. You were the one complaining about it.”
“I didn’t complain.”
“Then you dislike my hair when it’s short?”
“That isn’t what I meant either.”
She threw up her hands. “Then what the bloody hells did you mean?”
The royal’s blue eyes briefly flared before he closed them and let out a breath. “You do wear the scales off my hide.”
She knew that—enjoyed doing it, too. And that was wrong, wasn’t it?
“Charles!” he suddenly bellowed, and the human charged back into the hall a few moments later.
“Yes, my Lord . . . Bram . . . my Lord Bram . . . Lord—”
“Please take the Captain to one of the rooms so that she can freshen up.” He wrestled the blade from her hand, making Ghleanna laugh. She hadn’t laughed so in ages. It felt nice. “Perhaps you can also cut her hair. She prefers it short.” He handed the blade to poor, confused Charles.
“Of course, my Lord . . . uh . . .”
“Do we have time for all that?” Ghleanna demanded.
“We do now.” The royal turned his back on her, tossing over his shoulder, “I’ll be in my study. Get me when she’s done.”
Ghleanna waited until the dragon was out of earshot. “Is he always so short of temper and patience?” she asked the servant.
“No, Captain. In fact, Lord Bram is considered the most patient and caring of beings in all the Southlands.”
“Huh . . . must be me then.”
Instead of trying to convince her that that was inaccurate, Charles pointed to an alcove that would lead to the tower. “This way, Captain.”
Bram had nearly all he needed and was searching for some notes that he’d taken at the last Elder meeting he attended. A few additional codicils they wanted to add to the final alliance.
When he couldn’t find them, Bram called out, “Charles!” and turned, only to come face to face with Ghleanna. How long she’d been standing behind him, Bram had no idea. But at least this was the Ghleanna he knew so well. Her chainmail had been cleaned and polished, a dark blue surcoat over that with her sword tied to her waist and her two battle axes strapped to her back. Her leather boots had been cleaned and buffed and her black hair cut back to its usual length right below her ears. She had her arms folded across her chest and her legs braced apart.
This . . . this was the Dragonwarrior he knew. The Decimator. Bram didn’t realize how much he’d missed her until she’d been gone.
“That was quick,” Bram said when he realized he was gazing at her like a lovesick schoolboy.
She blinked. “Quick? It’s been four hours. Maybe a little more.”
“Oh? Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
“Hadn’t noticed,” he muttered and walked around her to return to his desk. “We can go in a few minutes.”
“If we leave now we won’t get very far.”
Bram sighed. “So we’ve already lost a day of travel?”
“You