Page 42 of A Matter of Dragons

“Niglan,” Eadberh growled, his tone reflecting my feelings exactly.

“Eadberh,” Niglan replied with disdain. He turned his ice-blue eyes to me. “And the bitch.”

I pulled my lips back in a snarl and raised my blade. “You came all the way from Valgros to insult me, Niglan? Are you still that sore about me beating you in front of your men?”

Niglan chuckled, a thin, pinched little laugh with no humor in it. “Please. You dishonor yourself, slut, pretending to be a man.”

“Run along home, Niglan,” Eadberh said. “We’re here on royal business.”

“Oh, is that so?” Niglan replied.

He took a step closer to Eadberh, and his smile widened into something truly unpleasant. Fear pulled my muscles tight. I glanced around the pine grove and my blood slowly went cold.

Eadberh had guessed there’d be five men waiting for us, but I counted a dozen soldiers in this little forest, all with their weapons drawn. What’s worse, they were King Donovan’s men. I recognized them; they were all the kind of men who’d stick their heels out to trip you in the mess hall and then deny it. Bullies and cowards, men who liked to gang up on you when you were alone.

And Eadberh and I were very, very alone. Shit. My grip tightened on the hilt of my sword. We couldn’t take them all down but, by the nine hells, we could try.

“It just so happens that I’m also here on royal business,” Niglan said, in an oily sort of voice. “And I suppose we should thank you, shouldn’t we, men?”

The dozen low-life soldiers gathered around Niglan chuckled unpleasantly. The sound was like oil skimming across water.

“I don’t think you heard me,” Eadberh continued, raising his voice. “We’re here on behalf of King Donovan himself. So why don’t you take your little friends here and scurry along home, Niglan.”

Niglan’s greasy smile darkened. “Oh, Eadberh. You don’t really think the king would ask you to kill a dragon, do you?”

I froze as Eadberh’s cool composure flickered.

“You two?” Niglan said. His cold eyes traveled up my body in a way that made me want to scrub myself raw. “A filthy fucking pervert and a mutilated orphan whore? You honestly think His Highness King Donovan would give a mission like this to you two rejects?”

Niglan came even closer, until he was standing between us, his torch hissing and spitting in the night air. He was so close I could smell his astringent cologne.

“King Donovan,” Niglan said in a voice that was almost a whisper, “sent you two to find the dragon. Because you are both expendable.”

“No.” I forced the word out of my lungs.

Niglan turned to me with a smile as cold as his pale blue eyes. “Ah, Rayne. You think you’re so special, the little orphan who can hold a sword and spread her legs for the king.” He raised his hand and brushed my cheek with one long, cool finger. “And maybe you would be,” he whispered, “if you could do either one of those things well.”

I pulled back. That was a lie; that had to be a lie. The king himself had given me this secret mission, paired me with Eadberh, sent us off to spread the glory of Valgros, King Donovan’s glory—

“But, still. I suppose we should thank you,” Niglan continued. He stepped back and raised his torch overhead, gesturing toward the mute, black bulk of the mountain. “The dragon is up there, I presume?”

“Get fucked,” Eadberh spat.

Niglan rolled his eyes rather melodramatically. “Ah, yes, clever Eadberh. Well, just think of the great service you’ve done for King Donovan. By fucking your way through Cairncliff and somehow stumbling on the location of the dragon’s den, you’ve saved us from even having to set foot in that disgusting little elven cesspool. You did all the dirty work for us, you two.”

“You pathetic bastard,” Eadberh growled. “I can’t believe you’re so desperate for a chance to impress the king that you’ll steal our mission.”

Niglan’s pale eyes flashed. “I am not stealing your mission!” he hissed.

“Go to the hells,” Eadberh spat. “The king’ll have your rank for this, you asshole.”

Niglan rocked backward. His gaze traveled over Eadberh to the men who’d attacked us. My body tensed; I suddenly felt like I was moving very slowly through cold water.

“Do it,” Niglan said.

Eadberh screamed. I spun toward the sound and brought my sword down on the arm of the man who’d attacked me. Metal sang; the son of a bitch was wearing armor under his cloak.

Carlton, I thought. That was his name. Carlton of His Majesty’s Royal Army.