dragon hadnât interferedâ¦
As his men gated in around him, he stalked to the huge window that ran the length of the level and looked out over the ocean a hundred feet below. Heâd chosen these cliffs as the perfect location for his fortress because they lay on the other side of the planet from the Cachamwri and Morven kingdoms.
And heâd chosen well. Ansgar had never been able to find Arraltâs rebel strongholdâand his murderous father had definitely looked. Given the strength of the wards that surrounded them, the dragonâs luck would be no better.
In stark contrast to the darkness of the mortal hemisphere theyâd just left, the sun was well up here, sparkling on the deep blue waves. Looking down at the narrow strip of beach below, he spotted an incautious mermaid sunning herself on the rocks, her bare breasts lifted, her head thrown back, spilling her iridescent hair over the black stone.
Arralt curled his lip. Sheâd best keep her wits about her. Hunting the Mer was one of his armyâs favorite sports.
For a moment he considered gating down to take out his frustrated rage on her. His cock hardened at the thought, but he reluctantly decided against it. He needed to report to Varza. Sheâd be unhappy enough as it was.
As he turned toward the stone passage that led to his partnerâs quarters, his gaze fell on a cluster of warriors. They stood with heads together, eyeing him uneasily. Knowing a budding conspiracy when he saw one, Arralt diverted to confront them. âDoes someone have something to say?â His voice was low and pleasant, but several of his veterans flinched.
One of the newer recruits, however, did not have the experience to recognize his mood. âMy lord, there was a dragon.â His tone was earnest, his clear gaze troubled.
âAye.â Arralt leveled his coldest, flattest stare at the puppy.
Who still didnât have the sense to shut up. âThe legends say the Avatar of the Goddess and a dragon warrior will free Semira from the sword. Shouldnât weâ¦â
âWhat? Give that reptile the sword?â Arralt pumped contempt into his voice. âHand our goddess over to Llyr? Because you may be sure that usurper is behind this. He had his âgodâ send one of those lizards in an attempt to fool us.â He scanned them all with an icy gaze and watched as even the puppy cringed. âThe sword of the goddess belongs in the hands of her people, and her people will free her.â
âBut the legend!â The puppyâs voice was very faint. âSemira herself predictedâ¦â
âAccording to whom? Itâs been thousands of years. The legend probably began with some addled old woman and grew in the telling.â In turn, he met the eyes of each warrior, searching for the seeds of rebellion and disbelief. He needed every man he had, but heâd kill without mercy or hesitation if necessary. âLlyr knows of the legend, and heâs trying to use it against us. Or perhaps you want to be ruled by that weakling and his werewolf bitch?â The white-faced young warrior made no answer. Arralt roared, âDo you?â
âNo, my lord!â The words sounded reassuringly fervent. âYou are our rightful king.â
âYou have our loyalty, my lord.â It was one of his veterans, a scarred, hard-eyed Sidhe who obviously recognized the danger of the moment. He turned toward the others. âLift your voices for our future king!â
As one, the men roared. âArralt! Arralt! Arralt!â
The puppy shouted loudest, Arralt noted with grim satisfaction.
Good. It wouldnât be necessary to kill the whelp. His life would be better spent in battle anyway.
Not that Arralt wasnât tempted. Anger still surged in his blood, and heâd like nothing better than to gut the fool where he stood. But one did not waste assets on a whim.
He gave his men a curt nod, then turned and
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley