He pulled away, letting his hands slowly fall away from her body. What he wouldn’t give to be able to rip that dress off her body and take her until the two suns rose . . . several weeks from now. But he’d do that if he only wanted her for a night or a few days. This game they played was for the rest of their lives. Winner take all.

His heart belonged to this dragoness, whether she wanted it or not.

And she damn well better want it.

Chapter 5

“So how’s your mother?”

The entire table froze, all eyes not on Ailean or Rhiannon, but on Bercelak’s mother, Shalin, who’d asked the question.

Rhiannon cleared her throat. “She’s fine. Although I pray for her death every night, mistress.”

Well, that refocused everyone’s attention back on her.

“Should we guess you’re not close to your mother then?” Ghleanna asked as she expertly used the human utensils to eat the seared flesh on her plate. Starving, Rhiannon wished she could just pick the meat on her plate up with her fingers, but decorum instructed she follow the lead of those whose den it was.

“She detests the ground I walk on. But it’s a mutual dislike.”

“She fears your power,” Maelona offered as she kindly showed Rhiannon which utensils to use without letting on to the rest of them.

Giving a small nod of thanks, Rhiannon followed her example. “My power is nothing compared to hers. And she knows it.” She cut the meat on her plate, her mouth already watering.

“You’re incorrect,” Shalin said softly. “You have much power. Much more than your mother’s. The Magick’s all around you. I can see it.”

Rhiannon chewed on her food. She found herself enjoying these cooked meats almost as much as the raw stuff she normally ate.

Except . . . she did miss the screaming. Although not the sobbing.

After swallowing, Rhiannon said, “I was just discussing this with your daughters. I’ve had many teachers, mistress. And all of them said I was quite the sad failure.”

Ghleanna swirled her wine-filled goblet while one foot rested up on the chair, the hand holding the goblet braced against it. “I’ve thought about this a bit since we spoke, Princess. And I think they lied to you.”

Rhiannon’s eyes looked up at the female sitting across from her. Ghleanna did not waste time wearing dresses or any other human feminine trappings. She wore black breeches, black shirt, and high black boots. She kept her thick hair short, which Rhiannon had never seen before on a dragon.

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re a white dragon. The power you have was born within you. Like the barbarian Kyvwich witches from the north or the Nolwenn witches from the Desert lands. Your power flows through your veins and nothing your mother does can take that away for good.”

Rhiannon swallowed another bit of beef. “Then why are my skills so lacking? Why can I do so little?”

“It took me a bit but I think I finally figured it out. When you trained you were always dragon, weren’t you?”

“Of course.”

“So they would have never seen it because of your scales.”

“Seen what?”

Ghleanna motioned to Rhiannon’s shoulder with a gesture, bare where the dress dipped down. “That brand you wear.”

Glancing down at it, Rhiannon shrugged. “Aye. All my siblings bear this mark. To be honest, I forgot it was there.”

“Well, it’s that mark that keeps you from your true strength, princess. And I’d bet my treasure your mother knew it when she had it placed on you.”

Frowning, Rhiannon looked down at the mark on her shoulder.

Bercelak should have paid more attention to the females’ ongoing conversation. Instead, he sent threatening looks to his two youngest brothers and several of his oldest when they leered at Rhiannon.

Then his baby sister gasped in shock and he turned in time to see his female take her eating knife to the small brand she had on her shoulder.

“Rhiannon!” But it was too late. She’d already shoved the point into the flesh around the brand and dug under it, flicking out a chunk of skin and muscle.

His kin burst into surprise gasps and comments as he pushed himself away from the table and went immediately to her side.

She stared down at the wound gushing blood. “I feel nothing.”

Crouching down beside her, Bercelak took a cloth from off the table and placed it over the wound. “Nothing? You feel no pain?”

“Oh. I feel pain. Lots of pain. But nothing else.”

He worked hard to understand her words, but failed miserably. “What are you talking about?”

She grabbed hold of the cloth and stood up. Holding it against her arm, she walked away from the table, his entire family watching her.

“Nothing’s changed.” She turned and faced them. “Are you sure about that brand?”

“It was a guess,” Ghleanna answered, her eyes wide with shock.

“A guess? That would have been nice to know before I cut it out of my arm.”

“Well, you mad cow, how were any of us to know you were going to do that?”

“What did you expect me to do? You tell me . . .” Rhiannon abruptly stopped talking.

Bercelak stood up as her blue eyes locked onto his.

“Gods, Bercelak. It hurts. It hurts,” she whispered. Then her arms flung out and her body lifted off the floor.

“Rhiannon!” He moved toward her, but two of his sisters grabbed hold of him. “Let me go!”