“I can. I do. I see now that you are His blessing to me. That our children . . . a blessing to me.”

Vateria rested her hands on his hips and another tentacle stroked his cock through his chain mail leggings.

“That is all I ask, husband. All I need.”

Salebiri glanced at his men still pinned to the wall, still screaming.

“What about them?” he snarled, seeing them now as betrayers. “They can’t be trusted.”

Vateria reached down to his sword belt and pulled the dagger from its sheath. She held it in front of her husband.

“Don’t worry, my love. We’ll find you loyal guards who see only what our god chooses to show them.”

She leaned in, kissed him softly on the lips . . . and handed her son the blade.

Benedetto Salebiri took the blade from his mother and, as his parents watched with immense pride, began the process of gutting the entire squad of elite guards because he couldn’t yet reach their throats.

While the men screamed in death and begged for mercy from a child, Vateria rubbed her nose against her husband’s jaw and said, “We will bring that bitch and her vile offspring to their knees.”

“I’ll bring Annwyl’s head to you myself,” he promised, speaking of the human queen of the Southlands.

“Not Annwyl,” Vateria replied with a quick head shake. “She is meaningless. A mad whore who will find her true destiny soon enough.”

Salebiri gazed down at her, confused. “Then . . . who?”

She kissed his cheek, licked his chin. “I talk of Rhiannon, my dear heart. The Dragon Queen. The only one that has ever mattered in all this.”

She gave him a wide grin, knowing that now he truly understood everything she wanted and that she no longer had to pretend. That he saw her just as she was and he was loyal to her.

“We take down Rhiannon the White—and this world will be ours.”

Chapter One

Seven winters later . . .

The broken spear caught her on her right side, knocking her off her war horse. She landed hard on the blood-soaked ground but allowed herself no time to get her breath back. She forced herself to her feet and quickly blocked the damaged spear with her armor-covered forearm.

She swung at her attacker with her free hand, her fist slamming into his chest, sending him flying back into the wave of soldiers coming toward her.

She reached over her shoulder and grabbed her halberd. A long poleax that she liked using because the head was made up of an ax, a spear, and a steel point. To her it was like three weapons in one.

Impaling the first man she saw, she jerked her weapon to the side, tossing her victim off and readying herself for the next attack.

They surrounded her and she took a quick moment to size them all up. She crouched a little lower, adjusted her stance a bit more . . . then she struck.