Flames rose up from her mother, but immediately sputtered out.
Using nearly the same spell Addiena used on Rhiannon, Shalin imbued the chain so that the bitch couldn’t shift.
Her mother knew it, too, based on the sudden and brutal fight she put up, clawing at her daughter’s arms and face.
Growling, Rhiannon pulled her away from the fighting dragons and over to a corner. “Come, mother, let us discuss this in private.”
Bercelak had to hand it to his father. The man could seduce the dragon gods out of their gold if he set his mind to it. He’d thought it was a long shot that Ailean would still be able to affect the queen as he once did. But he did all he’d promised. He’d gotten Addiena to shift to human and had maneuvered her close enough to Rhiannon so that she could use the chain his mother had given them just that morning.
When his mother had woken them up yesterday morning with words of “a plan,” Bercelak had felt a little wary. Left to their own devices, who knew what crazy nonsense his kin would come up with. And when he heard the plan, he thought, “See . . . crazy kin means crazy plan.” Yet it had worked. His father’s seductive ways still held true. Thank the gods.
While the guards stayed focused on the three of them and the queen, they never saw his siblings slip into the Queen’s Hall, using the shadows to their advantage. Prepared for battle, they moved as soon as Rhiannon wrapped that chain around the queen’s throat.
The queen’s guards, some of them his own comrades, really thought they could beat the low-born family with their well-trained ways. Bercelak snorted at the idea as he twisted one dragon’s head around until the bones cracked, breaking into pieces, while his tail impaled another dragon, attempting to sneak up behind him, under the chin. Growing up with Ailean the Wicked as a father prepared all of his offspring for any kind of battle. He’d trained each of them at hatching to fight any and all in their way. And even though his sisters were definitely a little more gently treated than the males of his kin, they were much more brutal and Bercelak winced when two of his sisters ripped a dragon to pieces between the two of them.
He turned and searched for Rhiannon. He trusted his mother’s Magicks, but he didn’t know how strong or weak her skills in comparison to the queen’s.
Quickly, he located his mate and her mother over in a corner. Rhiannon still had the bitch by the throat with that chain, which meant she still couldn’t shift. But five of the queen’s guards were advancing quickly and Rhiannon couldn’t fight them off or run with her mother in her arms. Besides, he knew his Rhiannon . . . she’d never run.
Storming across the hall, Bercelak batted bigger dragons out of his way like they were toys. Nothing would keep him from reaching Rhiannon.
He grabbed two guards around the neck, yanking them back and throwing them at his brothers who’d followed him over. He went for two others, but suddenly a small troop of battle-dragons attacked him, swarming over him en masse.
Desperately he fought, trying to get to Rhiannon. He saw the queen’s guard begin to move again and the grim determination on her face. Then her arms jerked to the right, the sounds of bones cracking reaching Bercelak’s ears. As the dragons approached her, Rhiannon suddenly let out a sigh. For a brief moment, he thought one of them had run her through with the tip of his tail. But flames, bright white flames, swirled around her and then Rhiannon was Rhiannon the White Dragonwitch. Most powerful dragonwitch in the land. And now . . . Queen Rhiannon.
Her power fully free, her dragon-form back, she lifted her head and, with a powerful roar, unleashed a line of flame that singed the rocky ceiling above her head.
Everyone stopped fighting and all eyes focused on her.
She kicked out with her front claw and her mother’s limp human body, the neck broken, flew across the hall floor and slammed into the opposite wall.
Bercelak’s cock stirred as Rhiannon’s blue eyes met on the eyes of her court.
Rhiannon had never felt so strong, so alive before. Power, power of the gods, flowed through her veins when it never had before. Even her dragon-form was bigger. All these years she thought she was just tiny, a runt. No. Clearly her mother had been holding her back . . . but no longer.
She stared at the dragons of her court. She was Queen now. It was now her turn to rule.
But first. . . .
With a short chant, she released a line of white flame imbued with powerful Magicks. Like a snake, it slid around the hall, avoiding Bercelak and all of his kin until it reached each of the old queen’s guard. With lightning-like precision, she tore into them, leaving nothing but a pile of ash and some burnt scales.
The others, the ones whose loyalty was to the current queen, rather than to Addiena herself, watched in horror, most likely waiting for her to go after them next. But she had no intention of killing those loyal to the throne. They just needed to remember who the throne now belonged to.
“My mother is dead,” she said flatly to the survivors. “I am your queen. Bow to me now and show me your undying allegiance or leave Devenallt Mountain and Dark Plains forever and hope I never see you again in this life.”
She thought there would be moments of waiting while people decided. There wasn’t. As one, they all bowed before her.
All except one.
Bercelak stood tall and stared at her, not bothering to hide his smile. She motioned for him to kneel, trying her best to look suitably haughty. He smirked in return. So, with everyone else’s head bowed in supplication, she took a moment to stick her tongue out at him.
He laughed loud and long, scaring everyone else—even his family—nearly to death.
Bercelak walked with his father, now in dragon-form, for the trip down to the entrance of Devenallt Mountain. “Sure you won’t stay for awhile?”
“No, lad. Your mother waits.” He grinned. “And I don’t like to keep her waiting . . . much.”
Shaking his head, Bercelak mirrored his father’s grin. “Gods forbid you leave a female waiting.”
“Only one female now. Just like you.” His father glanced back into the cave as if to assure they were truly alone. “Although I wouldn’t wait too long, boy. She is still unclaimed and there were many who watched her with eager eyes.”
“She’s beautiful, so I’m not surprised. But I’ll not give her up.”
“Of that I have no doubt. Your lust comes off you in great waves when she’s around.”
“True. But still, tradition dictates I wait until the next full moon.”
“Don’t be a fool, boy. She’s queen. You two make tradition. So do what you like, eh?”
Bercelak nodded in agreement, then took a large breath and said, “Thank you, Father. For all your help today.”
His father waved his words off with his claw. “You’re my offspring, Bercelak. No words of thanks are ever needed.”
“Well, I’ll say this then . . . I no longer detest you.”
Laughing, his father slammed his claw against his son’s back. Anyone else would have toppled from the mountain with a snapped spine but Bercelak, as always, stood strong. If for no other reason, he’d rather not hear his father’s mocking laughter following him down. “Now that’s good news indeed! Your mother, at least, will be very happy.”
“But you . . .”
“Could care less. I only want my children strong enough to survive these times.” The old dragon grinned and Bercelak saw his rows and rows of fangs that grew as age came upon them all. “And since you are now consort to the queen, I’d say I’ve done my job, wouldn’t you?”
Bercelak nodded. “Aye. That you have.”
“Then, my strong son . . . you best Claim that deadly wench of yours or lose her forever.”