Page 24 of Lady Dragon

So some of his forces, at least, still wanted the daughter heir alive, just as she’d hoped. “And your men are all fine with the fact that you’ve tied me up in the meantime?”

“I left strict orders you’re not to be disturbed while you rest.”

So they didn’t know what he was doing. “And if I shout for help?” she asked.

Branon put a hand to his chest in mock affront. “To think you would need to be rescued from your own brother! Why then, you must be hysterical from your ordeal, and I’ll have to ensure you go back to sleep.”

Samansa spoke through gritted teeth. “How would you explain it if I don’t wake up?”

He stared down at her for a long moment. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. Please, be reasonable, sister. ”

“Don’t call me that,” she snarled, jerking in her chair, her hands fisting. “You are not my brother. Not anymore. Family doesn’t conspire to murder their own.”

He gestured as if brushing such a thought away. “But there’s no need for any of that now, because you’re going to forfeit your claim to the throne.”

His words dropped like a sword between them.

“Am I?” Samansa breathed. Part of her was amazed he was making his objective so plain, for once. And part of her was furious.

Oh , and how another weak and cowardly part of her wanted to just bow to his wishes and be done with it. But she couldn’t leave the queendom in his hands, not now that she knew how filthy those hands were—and how much more bloodstained they were likely to get.

More so, she couldn’t leave her mother with nothing between her and Branon’s ravenous desire for the throne. Because once he had dealt with Samansa, she had little doubt he would challenge the queen next.

Remembering the last time she’d spoken to her mother made shame rise in her chest. She’d slammed a door in the queen’s face. She couldn’t let that be the final word.

“What makes you think I’ll willingly give up my birthright?” she asked with as much scorn as she could muster. “What does reason have to do with what you’re doing?”

It was his turn to sneer at her. “Everything. Everyone knows that your so-called birthright is a farce and that men should sit the throne. It’s the only reasonable path forward.

We’ve been held down under your fragile, silk-clad heels for far too long.

” He stuck out his chin derisively at her stained and torn slippers .

Samansa hadn’t exactly been planning on combat or fleeing for her life when she’d snuck out of her quarters to meet Kirek, or else she would have worn trousers and a pair of sturdy boots. She wasn’t ashamed of what she was wearing, even though she must look a fright.

She looked at him with equal, if not greater, disgust. “You mean you’ve been forced to share for far too long. That you feel oppressed by a balancing of the scales.”

He threw up his hands. “Because the scales were never balanced to begin with. It’s not my fault they naturally stand in our favor.

Men are stronger, fiercer, more resilient.

You’ve only been able to challenge us with the might of dragons behind you.

And dragons only made the deal with the queen in the first place because they couldn’t win the War of Fire while a king sat on the throne.

So they chose to give up the fight, leaving a more biddable, bendable ruler in the king’s place.

But no more. The age of queens is over.”

Samansa shook her head in disbelief. “How can you say such things? Despite your acting like a spoiled child, Mother has only treated you like the prince you are. Given you everything you might want, save for the throne. And how can you think it would be so easy for you to take it from us? No one in the queendom will follow a usurper.”

Branon raised a brow. “Are you so sure about that?”

No, she wasn’t. But she wasn’t about to grant him that. “Even if you remove me as an obstacle, you’ll still have to answer to the dragons.”

She hoped there was still a chance he would have to, anyway. Or, at least, she hoped he wasn’t certain of what the dragons would or wouldn’t do .

He gave her that cold smile again. “No, I won’t.

Even dragons have grown weary of the rule of women.

Your pet told me.” He tossed his head at the side of the tent—the direction Kirek must be in.

“Or are you her pet? It doesn’t matter. However erratic her behavior is now, she already informed me that the dragons won’t try to stop my rise. They’ll stand aside.”

Defiance rose in Samansa—and grim satisfaction that she knew something her brother didn’t.

As much as it hurt to hear that Kirek must have been conspiring against her, the princess knew why Kirek’s behavior had become so erratic—and knew that things were different now, between them, with the pair-bond. Or so she desperately hoped.

If the dragons still wished to abandon their support for Andrath’s queendom, she could deal with that later—and hope that they would change their minds, once they saw who her brother really was. And once, perhaps, they witnessed the bond between her and Kirek.

But for there to be a chance of that happening, she and Kirek had to live long enough.

Samansa couldn’t keep the growl out of her voice. “Then why are you doing this to her? She’s their princess. Their heir. If you have some sort of new truce as you so say, aren’t you destroying it?”

Branon shrugged an unconcerned shoulder.

“She’s clearly lost her head over you. Perhaps she’s disobeying orders.

Even if she’s not, the dragons will never have to know what happened to her, if you won’t cooperate.

And no one needs to know what will happen to you , if you don’t renounce your title.

” He leaned forward, planting a hand on the arm of her chair.

On her arm, grinding her bones together.

“Do it, Samansa. Agree to my terms, and I’ll release you unharmed.

If you can calm your dragon friend, you can both leave with your lives.

For your life will matter nothing more to me, because you will be nothing, just like you should be.

That is reason. Go home to Mother or go to the dragons, for all I care.

I’m sure you’ll love it in their lands.” He smirked. “Very hospitable, I hear.”

Go to the dragons… Samansa ignored the rest of what he said after that, but that part stuck with her. If she had no other choice, was that something she could fathom doing? She had become a dragon, after all, even if it was just the once.

Right then, there was a commotion outside the tent. Shouting, getting closer. Samansa recognized one of the voices.

“I demand to see the princess and make sure she is safe! It is my sworn duty!”

“Jamsens!” she cried, but was cut off by the dagger that had suddenly appeared at her throat, held firm in Branon’s grip.

He stared at her levelly. “If you try to alert the guards to your predicament, I promise you I will bury this dagger in your neck, and then pin it on the latest assassin. Or, better yet, in your chest, and say you’ve succumbed to your wounds.

” He glanced down at her ragged, blood-crusted breast—not seeing the shard of stone there, but something worse in his own mind’s eye.

She believed he would do it. Even her involuntary swallow pressed the sharp edge against her throat nearly close enough to cut.

“I gave a direct order,” Branon said, raising his voice, “that the princess is not to be disturbed. She is in no fit state to be seen.”

“My lord,” a voice called from outside. “He insists, as captain of the princess’s guard. ”

Branon met Samansa’s eyes, and his look promised pain if she opened her mouth.

She kept it closed. And not only for her own safety. If Branon had come this far, she had no doubt he was willing to hurt Jamsens.

“I said ,” he called with more force, “that the princess is not to be—”

There was a grunt and the sound of a quick scuffle outside. Branon straightened, tucking his dagger down low against his side, out of the line of sight, just as Jamsens came bursting into the tent.

“I am Her Highness’s captain! I won’t—” Jamsens drew up short at the sight of the princess, eyes wide.

Branon held a finger to his lips. “It’s all right,” he called to the guards outside. “Let him be and keep your distance. One visitor is fine, but the princess needs her rest.”

“Her rest ?” Jamsens hissed, spinning on Branon. “What is the meaning of this?”

“Your party was supposed to be searching the southern hills,” Branon said flatly. “You disobeyed a direct order—that’s two now, with you forcing your way in here—and, last I understood, I still outranked you.”

Jamsens stood his ground. “Somehow I knew following you would be the correct course.” His eyes darted to the princess. “I wasn’t wrong, it seems. Why is the princess bound while apparently wounded?” he asked dangerously, his hand drifting to the hilt of his sword, outranked or no.

A fierce swell of gratitude blossomed in Samansa’s chest, even if it was no match for her fear .

Branon didn’t rise to the challenge, his tone only growing calmer, more concerned, in response.

“She is not well. The dragon has affected her mind. I thought Kirek had abducted her, but it turns out they were both trying to flee together. I’m trying to keep the princess’s condition quiet , so rumors of the daughter heir’s loss of reason don’t spread like wildfire and put our realm’s stability at even greater risk. ”

Oh, he was good . Even though Samansa wanted to deny him, she wasn’t entirely sure how she could without blaming it all on Kirek or sounding insane.

Let me explain—first I kissed the dragon girl, then the Heartstone burst and I turned into a dragon…

Worse than sounding insane, she might get herself or Jamsens killed. As if to remind her, Branon glanced down at the hidden dagger tucked against his leg.

Jamsens, to his credit, still looked entirely doubtful. “I think you should let the princess speak for herself. Alone with me, if need be.”

Branon scoffed. “She can no longer be trusted to speak the truth, never mind speak for an entire realm . You know as well as I, Jamsens, that she is not and never was cut out for this role. And here she is, trying to flee with a dragon . We were just discussing—agreeably—how she should renounce her position as heir, at least until her madness has passed.”

Jamsens’s eyes narrowed. “Where you see madness unfit for a princess, I see coercion unfit for a prince.”

Branon snarled. “I’m only serving the realm, and here you are, jeopardizing it.” He asked suddenly, as if to change the subject, “Where is your father? ”

“Securing the castle against any threat—from dragons or men.” Jamsens smiled grimly. “If he knew you were holding the daughter heir against her will, he would be so terribly disappointed in you.”

Branon only shrugged. “You would know about his disappointment, wouldn’t you? You should be right here alongside me. But you failed to live up to your potential and instead chose to be a glorified lady’s maid. Look where it has gotten you.”

Jamsens shook his head slowly. “I regret nothing. And I, too, am only doing my duty.”

Samansa well understood that protecting and caring for someone went much deeper than simple service, even if Branon didn’t.

“Where’s Cenara?” she couldn’t help asking, willing Jamsens to understand. She hoped she could get away with that much.

“With your mother,” Jamsens murmured, without taking his eyes off Branon.

Mother , she thought with a pang. As much as Samansa needed help now, her mother needed the best protection—and perhaps more comfort than protection alone could give, at a horrible time like this. The princess had the hunch—and the hope—that Cenara could give her both still.

She was left with only Kirek and Jamsens, who were now both at her brother’s mercy as much as she was.

Even if Jamsens didn’t yet understand the danger he was in.

Branon shook his head and raised a hand to him. “Jamsens, there is no need to declare yourself against me. Side with the realm , which is where I stand. Your father will see the wisdom in it, I promise you—if he hasn’t already. ”

Jamsens’s mouth twisted. “He would never treat with you behind the queen’s back.”

Branon only smiled, and ice crawled down Samansa’s spine.

If Tordall had betrayed his queen, why hadn’t he made any move to indicate such yet?

Perhaps because his son’s loyalties were the only thing holding him back.

Or perhaps there was another reason—Cenara’s protection of the queen?

Or was it the threat of the dragons? Or was Branon merely lying without words, to give room for suspicion and doubt to grow?

“With you by my side, brother,” Branon said softly, taking a step closer to him, “we can resolve this issue quickly and mercifully. And by your side…” He glanced down at Samansa. “We can truly be brothers, if you see reason.”

Samansa’s stomach lurched. Not simply because of what he’d suggested—Samansa herself as a prize for her captain’s swapped loyalty. But because she could see it in Jamsens’s gaze.

He was considering the proposal.

And then, just like that, he blinked, and all consideration disappeared from his eyes—leaving only furious determination. He drew his sword in a swift motion, and opened his mouth to shout for the guards.

The shout never came. His mouth gaped soundlessly, his eyes wide in shock.

His searching, bewildered gaze wandered down to the dagger protruding from his neck, where Branon had thrust it with brutal precision.

Blood dribbled from his lips, and the hilt of the sword slipped from his fingers, falling into the dirt with a muffled clang.

Samansa tried to scream, but Branon was back at her side in an instant, clapping a hand over her mouth with more violence than he’d ever treated her .

Jamsens looked at her once more, tottered a step, and then collapsed to the ground. Eyes staring. Blood pooling beneath him.

Something much more powerful than a scream built within Samansa. It started in her chest, about where the shard of Heartstone was, and grew from there—a force so hot and raging, she thought she might burst with it.

And then, she did burst.

When she did, it wasn’t a scream she released, but a roar .

And fire.