Page 62 of A Kiss of Flame
The mage clutched the top blanket to shield her naked body, feeling very much like a girl caught with the farmer’s son in the haystacks. She wouldn’t usually worry too much over modesty, but the creature glaring her down was not only Barith’s mother but the queen of a dragon horde.
Queen Eithne was about the same height as Levian. She wore dark brown trousers, a long-sleeved green blouse, and a delicate emerald necklace with matching earrings. Her dark auburn hair was braided elegantly atop her head, but the scowl drew most of Levian’s attention. She had the same scowl as Judith, making Levian’s insides twist with nerves.
“Mum!” Barith snarled. “Ye cannae just barge?—”
“Ye brought her here,” his mother said, her voice low with disappointment, her eyes flaring with fire. “You brought yer half-fae tart tae my island.” Each word was like a knife in Levian’s already wounded chest. “During’ yer courtin’. Days before yer bloody matin’.” She sneered, and Levian felt the shame settle into her bones.
“Mum,” Barith said again, stepping forward. “This isnae Levian’s fault.”
“No!” Eithne boomed, her glare shifting entirely to him. “This is yer fault!” she made clear.
Barith’s shoulders sank, and his wings tucked back. The queen snarled a curse before turning to stalk out of the room. He looked at Levian with a harried expression. “Dinnae worry,” he whispered. “Ah’ll fix it.” Then he ran after his mother.
Levian let the embarrassment of the situation wash over her as Cat slipped into the room. “It’s best if ye let them handle this,” Cat said softly. “Mum was mad he didnae show for his meetin' this mornin'. Ah forgot tae come remind him like Flòra asked.”
Levian was already getting out of bed. “Can you help me find something to wear?” she asked Cat.
The dragon grunted. “Ye really?—”
Levian cut her a sharp look, and Cat threw up her hands in defeat. “Aye,” she agreed, heading for the dresser. “But ye cannae say ah didnae warn you.”
Cat helped Levian dress in an oversized sweater and pants that fit well enough that she didn’t feel entirely out of place before Barith’s mother. Levian’s nerves were on edge, and she shook as Barith and the queen snarled at each other, switching between English and Draconic. Cat’s grimaces at her mother’s insults did little to ease Levian’s tension.
“I cannae do it,” Barith declared as Cat wished Levian luck, and she stepped out into the main room.
The queen balked and shook her head. “I was too soft with ye,” she said, her voice bitter. “I let ye wander out in the world ‘cause ah knew you were like yer da. Ye needed tae be free long enough tae miss home. But ye didnae come back until we had to drag ye.” Barith’s head hung low, his shoulders drooping.
“This is my fault,” Eithne scoffed, guilt lacing her voice. “I let ye wander too long, and you lost yer way. Ye’re my son, Barith. AMcCroy. Ye are the Skaal'Syr en'Rhaelor. A dragon an’ a member of the horde. That is who ye really are.”
“No,” Barith declared, loud enough to reverberate through the house. Levian heard Cat curse under her behind her, and she guessed the queen wasn’t often talked back to, even by her children.
Eithne’s eyes narrowed. “Wha’ did ye just say?” she asked sharply.
Barith shook his head. “I’m a dragon,” he said, his voice set and firm. “I’m yer son an’ a McCroy, but it is no’ all ah am.” Levian held her breath, and Cat shifted uneasily beside her.
The queen sneered at him as though he were a stranger. She straightened her back, her wings tucking tighter behind her. “You will mate wi’ Sera Ceanadach,” she declared, acting as though Levian weren’t in the room. “It’s yer duty tae the horde, tae yer family, an’ tae yer queen.”
Barith tensed, his breathing shallow. Levian wanted to go to him, to soothe him, but she knew better than to get in the way. Her heart raced and tore all at once. This was exactly what she’d feared. Creatures from different races of Folk rarely got their happily ever afters, and those who did usually had to give up everything for it—just like her mother. Tears threatened, and Levian forced them down. She could never ask him to leave his family behind and run away with her like Merlin had asked her mother. She knew Trislana had suffered being away from other dryads and the Veil, just as Barith would suffer being ostracized from his horde.
“An what of yer duty to me?” Barith threw out. “As my mother?”
The queen huffed bitterly. “You think ye’ve been treated poorly, do you?”
Barith growled and ran his hands through his matted hair, his frustration palpable. His back was so tense Levian could seeevery ridge of muscle. “Ye can bluster all you want about duty an’ honor an’ the horde,” he said, “but we both know ye drove me away.”
Eithne’s growl was primal and terrifying as she glared at her son. “Ye left by yer own choice.”
Barith snorted sharply. “Is that what ye’ve telt yerself? That ah left ‘cause ah was too much like da?” He braced his hands on the counter opposite his mother, leaning in menacingly. “You ordered me to do yer dirty work for years after da died. Whatever had to be done to keep you queen, to keep the horde ahead o’ the rest. But I wasnae gonna end up like him, either.”
The queen’s gaze hardened. “Yer da spent time out in the world when we were young,” Eithne said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “He fell in love wi' some faerie an' thought himself too good for the horde. Then she broke his heart, an' he came crawlin' back. Yer da learned his lesson an' recognized that a dragon was the only creature that’d ever understand him an’ love him like he wanted. The only place he belonged was with the horde. He died givin' everything tae his family—tae us, tae you. An' ye would talk o’ him as if he were a fool for doin' it.”
Barith’s wings and shoulders slumped at his mother’s words. The way Eithne talked to him like he was nothing but a selfish brat tore at Levian’s insides, but she pressed her lips together, forcing herself not to interfere.
“He left Ember Hall to me ‘cause he didnae want me to end up like him,” Barith said, his voice a low grumble. “He wanted me to have somewhere to go if I ever needed to escape the horde. None of the girls cared to be off the island for more than a few days, but he knew I was different, and he knew the horde needed to change.”
The queen scoffed. “Yer da was a good mate an' a good father, but he always had his head in the bloody clouds.” She finally glanced at Levian, and the mage’s knees wobbled in response.“All he wanted was for ye tae have somethin' he couldnae, so he put these ideas in yer head—talked tae ye about findin' yer true mate one day. They dinnae exist, Barith. No' since the dragon tribes roamed Sylthéa wi' the fae. Yer da fed ye a fantasy 'cause he couldnae hold on tae his own.”
Levian felt cut to the bone at Eithne’s sharp set down. Barith had spent centuries chasing his true love. The mage had always thought it was silly but also endearingly romantic. The queen calling him a fool because he’d hoped for something more than a forced arrangement was more than she could take. Despite her better judgment, Levian stepped forward. “His heart is his own,” she told the queen. “Not even you can keep him from loving whomever he desires.”