Uther pulled the cloth back and studied the wound. “Yeah. I can sew that up in no time. Let me get me bag.”
After he walked away, Kachka muttered, “Uther Giant Head? He will sew me up with those large, orc-like hands? Sew me up like stuffed doll?”
“First, don’t mock the dragon’s head. He can’t help that it’s so big. From what I heard from Brannie, he’s been cursed with that giant head since hatching. And second, he’s sewn up many of our wounds over the last few months, and he’s done a fine job.”
“Did you give them wounds yourself? With your ridiculous sword?”
“You’re not letting that go, are you?”
Kachka didn’t answer, simply walked around him and followed after Uther.
“Do not feel bad, Rebel King,” Zoya said, patting Gaius on the back—which actually felt like the time his Uncle Thracius ripped a one-hundred-year-old tree from the ground and slammed it against his spine. “Kachka has no interest in men once she fucks them.”
Gaius turned and faced Zoya. “You forget, Zoya Kolesova. I am not a man.”
“Oh. You are king! You think that makes you better?”
“No, my friend. I’m better because I’m dragon.” He winked at her and walked away as Zoya’s loud laugh rang out over the valley.
Chapter Twenty
Uther leaned back and smiled. “There you go! Should heal up real nice. Leave little scarring.”
Kachka stared at the dragon. “Why do I care about scars?”
“Well . . . pretty girl like you. Figured you’d want to keep your looks as long as you can. You know, until you can trap a man.”
As Kachka debated how to remove Uther’s human head from his human body, Brannie pulled him away by grabbing the scruff of his chain-mail shirt and yanking him off the tree stump he’d been sharing with Kachka.
“But—”
“No!” Brannie barked. “Don’t speak, Uther. Just go. Go!”
“You females,” he muttered.
“Sorry about that,” Brannie said, carefully touching Kachka’s chin and examining her cheek. “Shame Morfyd’s not here. She could have made you completely scar free.”
“If true, then why does Annwyl have so many scars?”
“Annwyl likes her scars. Fearghus likes her scars, too. They’re a unique couple.” She dropped her hand. “So . . . where are you lot off to next?”
“Do not know. We need to figure out how we move from here. Clearly the cult knows about us.” Kachka blew out a breath. “Annwyl may order us back. She will be disappointed.”
“Are you kidding?” When Kachka just gazed at her, “After the name you lot made for yourselves over the last few months? You’ve pushed the cult out of her territory”—she leaned in and whispered—“and right into King Gaius’s.”
“Name?” Kachka had to ask. She’d been out of touch with everyone from Garbhán Isle since she’d left.
“Yes.” Brannie dropped her travel pack to the ground, squatted next to it, and began digging through it. “The priests and priestesses you’ve saved have been calling you Ghost Saviors.”
Kachka couldn’t hide her disappointment. “Oh.”
“But everyone else has been calling you lot—oh! Here it is.” She stood, a small jar in her hand. “This will help with healing.” She unscrewed the top and dug a large white glob out with her finger. She came at Kachka with whatever that shit was, and Kachka pulled back.
“Come on. Give it a try. It won’t hurt.”
“The rest have been calling us what . . . exactly?”
Brannie briefly glanced away before admitting, “The Scourge of the Gods.”
“What?”
“For their great sins . . . the gods have sent you as punishment.”
“I see.”
“I wouldn’t take it personally, Kachka,” she rambled on, taking Kachka’s silence to mean she was upset and also that she acquiesced to putting that useless cream on her face. “Annwyl gets mad when they call her Annwyl the Bloody, but I don’t know why. A name like that buys one respect. Strangely, she doesn’t mind Mad Bitch of Garbhán Isle, and that one seems a tad rude to me. But,” she kept going, continuing to put that stuff on Kachka’s throbbing wound, “neither of us likes Whore Mother of the Abominations.”
“Because only women can be whores.”
“Not with dragons. We are quick to call out our male whores. Like Gwenvael. My grandfather.”
“You have many whores in your family.”
“I wish I could say we don’t . . . but I’d be lying.” She stepped back. “There. Now don’t you feel better?”
She did, but Kachka wasn’t about to admit it. Instead, she just walked away and appreciated that doing so didn’t seem to offend the She-dragon.
“The Scourge of the Gods,” Gaius said from behind Kachka. “Fancy name you’ve got there.”
“If you knew name, why did you not tell me?”