Page 43 of Lady Dragon
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 doesreasonhave 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 tosharefor far too long. That you feeloppressedby 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 theprinceyou 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 youherpet? 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’stheirprincess.Theirheir. 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 toyou, if you don’t renounce your title.” He leaned forward, planting a hand on the arm of her chair. Onherarm, grinding her bones together. “Do it, Samansa. Agree tomy 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 willbenothing, just like you should be.Thatis 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.
“Isaid,” 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.
