Light My Fire. G.A. Aiken

tribes had ended up on the worst end of it all, often ripped from one tribe to another, forced to leave their children and families behind so they could be the concubines of some male they didn’t know.

      Then, four, maybe five, thousand years ago, a female warrior named Anne Atli had been born. The first Captain of the Riders, she’d had a way with horses, and she’d possessed skills with weaponry that put her above all others. She eventually took all the power, destroying any who challenged her. And she did it again and again until finally, she united the tribes under her banner and turned the attention of the warriors from each other, to those who attacked the Steppes to raid and plunder.

      Since then, the Daughters of the Steppes had ruled the land and the Anne Atli, Mother of the Steppes Riders, ruled them all. It was a title and name that was not given to the next in line by birth, but to the one willing to take it for her own and keep it while still honoring the woman who had begun it all.

      Of course, Elina was not willing to take anything. She’d never be willing. She had no interest in ruling the Steppes. She had no interest in being a warrior. But each of the tribes under Anne Atli’s banner still cared about its individual reputation, and “having you around, doing nothing,” Glebovicha had told Elina, made the rest of their tribe look weak. Something Elina doubted considering Glebovicha’s personal reputation. She was a feared tribal leader, and Elina was one of many in the tribe. But Glebovicha hated her. Violently, it seemed. So she’d sent Elina off to challenge and kill the one they called the White Dragon Queen.

      So here Elina was now . . . climbing a mountain very like the big ones that surrounded the Steppes. Those, it was said, had dragons in them, too, but Elina had never met one. In truth, she’d be happy never to meet a dragon. She could have gone her entire life having never met a dragon and been quite happy about it.

      That was no longer an option, though. So she climbed. And she kept climbing. For days. Even setting up a tent against the mountainside at night so she could sleep. Thankfully, she did not turn in her sleep. That would have been . . . unfortunate.

      On the fifth day, Elina finally reached the top of Devenallt Mountain. She pulled herself up over the final rock face and stayed on her knees, taking in deep breaths as she thanked whatever horse god might be listening.

      It was bright out. Midday. So that big, dark shadow that slowly covered her was a bit . . . off-putting. She hoped it was a cloud. A big, nightmarish cloud that foretold a horrible storm. But she knew . . . she knew it was no cloud that covered her.

      Shoulders sagging, she looked behind her.

      It was big. So very big. And black like the diamonds from the Steppes dwarf mines. All of it black. Its scales. Its talons. Its eyes. Its long mane. All except its fangs. They were quite white . . . brilliantly so.

      They stared at each other for what felt like forever. Then, it finally spoke. Spoke like a man.

      “What are you doing here?” it asked.

      Elina tried not to show her surprise. She’d been raised to believe that all dragons were nothing better than animals. Like a jungle cat or a bear. Just bigger and able to breathe fire—so definitely to be avoided. But this one wasn’t some mindless animal. He spoke the common language with a Southland lilt. She’d met quite a few Southlanders as she’d traveled through the territories of these decadent and lazy people. Yes, he spoke just like the human male Southlanders.

      Elina slowly got to her feet and faced the dragon.

      “I’ve come to kill the White Dragon Queen,” Elina announced, struggling to speak in a language that was not her own.

      The dragon blinked, a few times. “Really?” he finally asked.

      “Really.”

      “Huh,” he said after a few seconds, then slowly turned and began to walk away as silently as he’d come. Elina was surprised. Perhaps the Dragon Queen’s subjects weren’t as loyal as her people thought. Perhaps they wanted this queen dead. Well, it didn’t really matter to Elina. She had a task to die trying to do. Not a positive thought but, sadly, an accurate one.

      So Elina secured her traveling pack on her shoulders and picked up her spear. And that was when the dragon’s long black tail suddenly whipped out and wrapped itself around her waist, pinning her arms to her body.

      Shocked, Elina didn’t even yell, didn’t fight, though the spear was still clutched in her hand. And the dragon walked on with Elina securely tucked into his tail . . . and he was humming.

      She had to admit, she found the humming annoying.

      Celyn the Charming of the Cadwaladr Clan loved his job! As far as he was concerned, he had the best job in the queendom.

      Though he’d admit, his siblings mocked him. While they went off to battle, spending months in muck and killing every bloody thing, every bloody day, Celyn was one of Her Majesty’s Personal Guards. He trained every day just like his siblings. Lived the life of a military dragon just like his siblings. And he killed when necessary—unlike his siblings, who killed whenever they felt like it.

      And yet few of them took Celyn seriously because he wasn’t face-first in the blood and brains of a battle. But he didn’t need to be. Because he had the best job ever!

      He glanced back at the human female he had trapped with his tail. He hadn’t seen a human who looked like her before. Such interesting features. Long, white-blond hair that reached down her back and framed an oval face. Pale skin covered razor-sharp cheekbones beneath bright, bright blue eyes that were narrow like a house cat’s. Full pink lips and a cleft chin rounded out that face. She was definitely someone Celyn would take the time to chat up if he’d met her at the local pub. But he hadn’t. Instead, she’d been at the top of Devenallt Mountain. The queen’s mountain.

      Devenallt Mountain was the seat of power of the Southland Dragon Queen, Rhiannon the White, and the only humans who came here were ones who were invited by Her Majesty or were brought here to be eaten. A practice they’d stopped when the queen’s offspring—and Celyn’s royal cousins—began mating with humans. To the queen, it seemed tacky to eat the brethren of those her children loved. Celyn, however, didn’t have a preference. He was just as happy with a good cow, and there was always more meat on those bones anyway.

      Still, having a human show up and openly admit she was there to kill the queen . . . that was unusual. But Celyn liked unusual.

      Celyn had known the woman was climbing the mountains for days. All the guards had. It was their job to protect the queen, and that meant knowing who was in the queen’s territory at all times. Yet after she hadn’t fallen to her death the first day, all the guards had wanted to see how far the human would get. They had bets going. Celyn had been certain, though, that she’d make it as soon as he’d watched her set up that tent against the mountainside and spend her first night there—so they’d left her alone . . . and waited. He had been on duty when she’d reached the top, so he’d confronted her first. Softly. No need to blast her with flames or unleash a roar of rage to make her piss herself. He left that sort of thing to his siblings. Celyn preferred a gentler approach.

      Yet he’d never expected her to admit that she was here to kill his queen. Again, his siblings would have killed her right then. But Celyn knew his queen. She was his aunt-by-mating and they amused each other. She loved to be entertained.

      And he was very certain this woman was going to be the best entertainment his queen got today.

      The White Dragon Queen sat on her stone throne, her massive head resting on the talons of her left claw, the elbow of her forearm resting against the arm of the stone throne she sat upon. One talon on her right claw tapped against the other arm of the throne. Her excessively long tail snaked around the back of the throne to the front, where the tip tapped against the stone floor in time with the talon on her right claw.

      Studying Elina, the queen finally asked, “Could you . . . repeat that?”

      Elina blew out a breath and gripped her spear a little tighter. The spear the black dragon had allowed her to keep. She’d