“Some pride, Tatyana Shestakova,” Kachka barked in disgust. “Any, to show me that you are part of the tribe I still love.”
“She’s a witch, cousin,” Tatyana accused. “Everyone knows that!”
“If only that were the simple truth of it,” Zoya muttered as she walked by Kachka. For once, her voice shockingly soft.
Maris watched his leader take on one of his own blood. Poor King Gaius. There was so much hatred between him and his own kin. But the thought of one of those bastards or bitches becoming ruler of the Sovereigns did nothing but fill him with dread.
With all the enemy soldiers now dead, they could all work together to take Lord Egnatius down, but the King wouldn’t allow it. He wanted to be the one to finish his cousin without any help from his Praetorian Guards.
Maris approved of that, but he also knew that, even without his legs, Lord Egnatius was a strong fighter. His sword skills were unparalleled, which was one of the reasons they’d crept up on him and his men so carefully. They’d taken days to move up on them, making sure not to alert any of them to Gaius and his guards.
The wind from dragon wings brought up swirling fountains of dirt. Some of the humans were forced to grab hold of nearby trees so as not to be swept away.
Swords clashed, glinting in the early morning light, and, at first, everything was very proper. One royal fighting another.
Then Lord Egnatius disarmed Gaius, the king’s sword flipping end over end until it landed in the ground many feet away.
Maris gasped, worried his king was about to find his honorable death much earlier than any of them had believed.
But as Lord Egnatius’s sword came down for a hard blow against the other dragon’s shoulder, King Gaius moved in and caught the base of the blade with his claw. The cut it made was deep, blood spurting, hitting a few of the soldiers, but Gaius didn’t even cry out. He didn’t feel pain the way most of them did. Of course, none of them had been raised around Overlord Thracius, who, many of the old soldiers said, was one of the cruelest bastards to have ever drawn breath.
So with one claw, King Gaius held that sword. And, with the other, he caught hold of his cousin’s throat. Using his wings, he spun them around, slamming his cousin into the closest tree. The two snarled, their jaws snapping, trying to tear scales from each other. But there seemed to be a pause, as if King Gaius could not take his cousin down. As if he could not finish him off.
“Is that the best you can do, cousin?” Lord Egnatius mocked.
“I was just waiting,” Gaius growled softly. “Until I connected with my sister. So that she can feel every moment of me killing you!” Gaius finished on a bellow. Then he yanked his cousin away from that tree and slammed him into the ground, the land around them shaking from the power of it.
King Gaius pinned his cousin down, pressing his knees against his forearms to keep him in place. Then he gripped his cousin by the snout and began pulling his jaws apart.
Lord Egnatius tried to knock the king off, but he was dead below the waist and, with his arms pinned down, he was helpless.
And he knew it.
Lord Egnatius’s screams tore through the land, sending birds from the safety of the trees in wild, panicked flocks.
Yet Gaius didn’t stop. He just kept pulling—his fangs gritted, his dragon face a mask of rage and hate—until a sickening sound of bone cracking made Maris jump, and Gaius suddenly held up the lower half of Egnatius’s jaw.
The royal wasn’t dead yet. No. He was still quite alive.
“How does that feel, cousin?” King Gaius asked as he stepped off his kin. “Aggie is laughing. She’s loving every second of this. Your pain. She adores your pain. And I love when she’s happy. I love hearing her laugh.” He stared down at his cousin. “Let’s make her laugh some more, shall we?”
Gaius held out his claw and one of the dragon soldiers handed him his own gladius. A short sword, but an effective fighting weapon, as many enemy armies had learned over the centuries.
With his back foot against Lord Egnatius’s chest, Gaius started with the claws. Cutting off each one as his cousin gurgled and wept beneath him. Then he cut off the forearms. Sliced the shoulders. Then the legs but, as he reminded his cousin, “You really can’t feel that, huh?”
King Gaius stopped for a brief moment. Nodded. “My sister, she’s not like me. She can only tolerate so much of someone’s suffering. She wants it done. And I want her happy.”
King Gaius raised the blade and brought it down, taking what was left of his cousin’s dragon head.
With that done, King Gaius shifted back to his human form and took the Praetorian armor and helm handed to him by one of his soldiers. He put them on, not bothering to wipe off the blood. Once dressed, he cracked his neck and began to give orders that would have them out of this valley by suns-set.