Dragon on Top. G.A. Aiken

      Chapter 1

      Ghleanna the Decimator took another gulp from her battered ale cup and wallowed, quite magnificently, if she did say so herself, in her misery. It was ridiculous, she knew, to still be as devastated by all this as she had been. It would be going on six months and yet she could not move past it. Instead, she sat and she drank and she wallowed and she tried to forget. And this had been the way of things for a long time now. Too long, her kin would say.

      This was all her own fault, though. She’d trusted where she shouldn’t have, believed lies when she damn well knew better, and most importantly, forgot the one thing that no one else ever forgot—that her father was Ailean the Wicked. Also known as Ailean the Slag, well-known whore of the dragon and human world.

      And, with a single stroke of idiocy, Ghleanna the Decimator had become Ghleanna the Idiot.

      Ghleanna the Fool.

      Ghleanna the Failure.

      Yet perhaps “failure” was too harsh a word. She’d never thought of herself as a failure before. After years on the battlefield, she’d proved herself again and again. But a failure was how she felt now. Like a failure and a fool with no one to blame, but herself. So, in morbid shame and self-pity and with no wars or battles interesting enough to occupy her mind or sword arm, Ghleanna had returned to the safety of her cave home’s ancient walls to be miserable and—if she were to be honest—hide. Venturing out only for food and ale.

      Although these last few days she’d mostly just gone out for more ale.

      She had no idea what her long-term plans were, but then again, should failures have long-term plans? Since Ghleanna wasn’t sure, she drank more ale until sweet blackness took her and she didn’t have to think about her inherent stupidity and the misery it had caused her anymore.

      Ghleanna had no idea how long she’d been passed out, but as much as she might want to, she couldn’t ignore the beating her head was currently taking. She forced her eyes open and watched the blunt end of a steel spear come down to crack her forehead again. She rolled away but the end of another spear hit her on the side of the jaw.

      “Wake up, ya lazy sow. Wake up!”

      “Leave me be, you mad bitches!”

      “Is that any way to talk to your dear, sweet aunts?”

      “You’re not my aunts,” she lashed back.

      “Close enough. It’s better than Great Cousins, isn’t it? Makes us sound old, don’t it, Kennis?”

      “That it does, Kyna. Now get up before we strip the scales from ya bones.”

      Pissed that her kin didn’t have the decency to leave her alone to wallow in her ale and drool, Ghleanna sat up and snarled, “What is it, you old hags? What is it you want from me?”

      “Well, first, you can stop feeling sorry for yourself. Isn’t that right, Kyna?”

      “That’s right, Kennis. Nothing worse than a mighty dragoness sittin’ around in a dark, dank cave, boo-hooing over some bloody mistake of a dragon.”

      “I am doing no such thing,” she lied.

      “Look at her lying to us, Kennis!”

      “I see it, Kyna. Lying to us and thinking we won’t know. It’s a shame.” Kennis shrugged. “I say we hit her again. On principle.”

      “I agree.”

      Ghleanna quickly raised her claws to protect her head. “Go away! Leave me be!”

      “So you can sit here and continue to feel sorry for yourself? Over him? I’d rather put you down here and now, ain’t that right, Kyna?”

      “Aye. Like a poor, wounded horse.”

      “I hate all of you.” Ghleanna let out a big sigh, dragging her claws through her too-long black hair. She hadn’t cut it in months and it showed. She knew she must look like cold shit, but