Chapter Thirty-Seven
Hoping her many skirts cushioned Katherine’s landing, Aemyra hit the ground running. Gritting her teeth as her damaged shoulder protested, she threw a jet of fire directly toward Fiorean and Draevan.
Katherine screamed, but Aemyra ignored her. Both men already had their shields up, this was only to get their attention.
It didn’t work.
Aemyra did not doubt her husband’s strength in battle, even after months of torture, but the thought of him going up against her father was petrifying.
Draevan was merciless.
Neither man would show clemency, and unless she intervened, one of them would die.
Draevan and Fiorean fought man-to-man in a space a hundred feet wide, both of them attempting to settle a debt that was not owed to them.
“I no longer want anyone in possession of a cock making decisions,” she ground out, stomping her way over to them while cradling her injured shoulder.
Maeve was hovering uncertainly, while Nell was raising roots from the riverbed to pull fleeing townsfolk from the river. Iona stood in the water with Clea beside her, both of them using their elements to slow the flow of water and blow the smoke away from the fleeing army.
“This is what we should be focusing on,” Aemyra spat, throwing another jet of fire toward her father.
Neither man turned as Dorchadas swung perilously close to Fiorean’s chest.
Dorchadas was a black blur against Fiorean’s silver steel, and Aemyra winced as the impact of the blades met her ears.
She had never seen men fight like this before.
Fiorean swung a backhanded cut that just narrowly missed Draevan’s throat, then ducked as Draevan swiped Dorchadas over the top of his head in retaliation.
They fought like they brandished death between them.
Both men wielded fire in their left hands, but with equally strong shields, neither was able to leave a mark on the other.
Aemyra had half a mind to sit down on the grass and let them fight themselves into exhaustion before clipping them both around the ear.
But Katherine had gotten to her feet and attempted to run toward her son. Spotting her at the last moment, Aemyra grabbed her around the narrow waist with her good arm.
“Not a smart choice,” she warned.
Katherine went limp, but Aemyra could feel her heart straining against her rib cage through the corset, her gray eyes wide with fear.
Fiorean parried several blows, his auburn hair whirling around his face as he dodged Dorchadas in a dance of death.
Even like this, Fiorean’s dangerous beauty knocked the breath from Aemyra’s lungs.
“Aemyra!” Adarian shouted, charging up the riverbank with Laoise seated on the mare behind him.
Ignoring her brother, Aemyra burrowed through her Bond and found the mental link to Aervor. Ignoring the male’s self-pitying mews, Aemyra tugged on the tether to Fiorean. Hard.
Her husband halted his swings, sword falling as he found her.
Katherine screamed again as Draevan raised Dorchadas, seeing his opening, but Aemyra was ready.
With her last reserves of energy, she shot a wall of fire between Fiorean and her father that burned so hot it incinerated Draevan’s shields.
He reeled away from the flames long enough for Fiorean to wisely put some distance between them. Aemyra released Katherine, and the dowager queen rushed to her son’s side, looking as though she would replace the wall of fire as the last line of defense between Draevan and her son.
Once again, Katherine rose in Aemyra’s estimations.
Aemyra’s conjured fire winked out as her vision flickered, the pain in her dislocated shoulder enough to make her stagger.
Then Terrea surged forward.
Sensing the shift in energy, Fiorean threw his mother behind him.
The she-dragon looped her serpentine neck toward Aemyra, bared her teeth, and roared into her face. Flecks of sulfur-tinged ash and globs of spittle landed on Aemyra as Terrea screamed her outrage at her Dùileach for all to see.
A muffled screech came from behind as a sopping-wet Elizabeth pulled an equally drenched Maggie out of the river.
Aemyra remained standing and endured the emotions flooding the Bond from Terrea. Her thoughts were jumbled, tinged with fury, and vivid with color in the way all dragon thoughts were, but Aemyra understood enough to catch the gist.
She was lucky not to resemble minced meat like Gealach or Aervor behind her. Aemyra was the queen, the matriarch. She should have had the sense to protect herself, not run into burning buildings while half-exhausted.
Terrea had almost lost her because of it.
“Are you finished?” Aemyra drawled when Terrea finally closed her mouth, chest scales glowing violet with repressed fire.
In truth, Aemyra was shaken. More than she wanted her army to see.
“If you eat my sister, I’ll be very upset with you, Beastie,” Adarian called out from the back of his horse.
Despite his words, Adarian’s face was pale, perhaps for the first time truly appreciating the danger of Bonding a dragon.
With a last warning growl, Terrea took off, not caring that the downdraft from her wings sent everyone staggering backward.
The dragon had left an empty space on the grass.
Katherine and Fiorean on one side, Draevan alone on the other. Maggie and Elizabeth in the shadow of the trees, and the queen’s guard approaching from the river.
The surviving soldiers gave them a wide berth, helping the townsfolk out of the river. The phoenixes darted around, organizing the supplies and wagons that had been saved, and chimeras were licking their fur between the trees.
Draevan drew himself up to his full height, looking down his proud nose at his daughter as though he had nothing to be ashamed of. Fiorean’s chest was heaving from the exertion, the left side of his face streaked with blood from a laceration on his scalp, painting his scars.
He looked Aemyra dead in the eye as if he was prepared to accept whichever fate she had come to deliver him.
Only one desire consumed her. She strode across the grass to reach her husband, cupped his cheek, and brought his lips to her own. Without missing a beat, Fiorean wrapped Aemyra in his strong embrace, inhaling her scent as though it was the only thing tethering him to this world.
Draevan began to protest, but Adarian put himself between them before Dorchadas could take Fiorean’s head.
“You turn your back on the Goddess? On your throne?” Draevan demanded of Aemyra as she broke the kiss.
Fiorean wisely remained silent as she stepped out of his hold.
“You once again acted without leave from your queen,” Aemyra countered.
Draevan spun Dorchadas threateningly in his hand. “This man usurped your throne. I saw an opportunity to be rid of him and clear your path to succession.”
Aemyra gritted her teeth. “Fiorean stole nothing. He almost died trying to protect me and his family. His only mistake was not trusting me with the information. He has never wanted the throne, only what was best for Tìr Teine. You want to kill someone for me? Kill Alfred.”
Draevan made an incredulous noise while Fiorean stood a little taller.
But Aemyra wasn’t done. “We have all made mistakes that have put the good of this territory in jeopardy while doing what we believed to be right. In Brigid’s name, it is time for us to put these grievances aside and work together.”
Draevan snorted. “I wouldn’t call what he has done a petty grievance.”
“I did not say it was petty. The fire in our veins causes us to act rashly, our tempers easily ignited,” Aemyra said, her voice hard. “But the easiest way to heal Tìr Teine and restore this territory to the ways of the Goddesses is to heal our clan first.”
Aemyra felt the rightness of the words as clearly as if Brigid had laid a hand on her shoulder. Their clan had been broken generations before. Brother killing brother, her great-grandfather outcast to Penryth, kings seeking council with the Chosen instead of the priestesses.
By healing the clan, they would fix the rift within Tìr Teine.
Lifting her eyes, she saw Thear in the distance, astride Dòiche. The female was growling, but Thear’s amber eyes were shadowed beneath an expression of hurt, and shame filled Aemyra. She had wanted to explain everything to him after returning from meeting Bronwyn.
Before she could say anything, he whirled Dòiche around and the disordered army swallowed him.
Later, Aemyra thought.
“I fight for the true queen,” Fiorean said firmly, his gaze burning. “She is the light that anchors me to this world.”
“Do not let him draw you in,” Draevan growled.
Aemyra opened her mouth, but Adarian stepped forward. “She is your queen, and you will obey her.”
It was the first time her twin had spoken to their father in such a voice. By the flush creeping up Draevan’s neck, he did not like it.
“Adarian is right. I have trusted your leadership and listened to your council. I value everything you have taught me, but this is the second time you have acted alone. It was my mistake in not telling you sooner, my cowardice, but I am telling you now.”
Draevan lowered Dorchadas. “You have kept many secrets.”
Katherine snorted. “Filthy hypocrite.”
“Pampered swine,” Draevan shot back.
Everyone exchanged incredulous looks as the Prince of Penryth and the dowager queen glared at each other.
Aemyra felt Adarian’s hands on her shoulder, assessing her injury. With a grimace, she beckoned her queen’s guard closer.
“How many are dead?” she asked, expecting the worst.
Iona and Clea exchanged confused looks. Nell was smiling.
“None, Your Majesty,” they reported with relief. “Riya Iolairean mustered her phoenixes before Kolreath reached the town, and Iona and Clea kept the wildfire contained to the other side of the river. Thear and his trodach herded everyone over here while you saved the princesses.”
Over Nell’s shoulder, Aemyra could see Maeve handing thick cloaks to both Maggie and Elizabeth.
“We lost more supplies than I would like, but once we lay siege to Edinbane we should be able to replenish what we need,” Laoise said.
Aemyra bent her elbow, helping Adarian move her arm into the right position as she looked for Riya among the scouting phoenixes high above.
Spotting the laird dangling in Sujaron’s claws, Aemyra raised her good hand in salute. As the laird flew overhead, Riya glanced pointedly between Fiorean, the bleeding dragons, and Katherine practically going toe-to-toe with Draevan.
Adarian rolled her shoulder into place and she stifled a scream.
Agreeing with Riya’s silent assessment, Aemyra muttered, “I need a dram.”