Free Slayer by D. L. Snow

silent prayer that one of those men still fighting would be Cahill.
    It was the silence that alerted Brea to the end of the battle and had her scrambling out of the tent. With a hand to her forehead, she searched the sky, but only benign clouds floated overhead. The dragons were gone. Limping as quickly as she could, she hurried toward the field, but the soldiers were already returning. What was left of them. Comrades leaned upon comrades. Others had bodies lying limp in front of saddles. Beyond the sad procession Brea could make out wisps of smoke where piles of the dead smoldered on the field.
    In her panic to spot the prince, Brea nearly missed him. The plumage atop his helmet was singed beyond recognition; he dragged his feet like the two horses he led, one of which was piled high with injured men.
    “Cahill!” Brea shouted and rushed to him.
    Cahill barely acknowledged her. He handed her the reins to one of the horses and instructed her to take the wounded to the surgeon’s tent. It took her a moment to realize the horse carrying the burden was Elrond. He hung his head next to hers as if in apology and Brea patted him and whispered soothing words into his tired ears.
    When she returned to the tent, she found Cahill sitting on the stool, staring blank-eyed into space. She didn’t think he noticed her until he said, “You can have your horse back.”
    Brea sucked in a breath. “Bailey?”
    Cahill turned his empty eyes on her. “He’s alive. But he refuses to ride a horse that’s afraid of dragons.” Cahill studied her, and Brea watched as all the emotions of the day flitted across his face. Suddenly he was on his feet. “What kind of dragon slayer has a horse that is afraid of dragons? Tell me that?”
    But Cahill wasn’t the only one with battle scars. Brea had watched and listened all day and her own emotions ran raw. “Afraid of dragons! You idiot!” She stormed up to Cahill and gave him a good hard shove. “Elrond is not afraid, he’s trained to stay back unless I call him. What kind of fool takes horses into battle with dragons? Do you know nothing about the beasts?”
    Brea found herself in a staring match with Cahill. Sparks of anger, hatred and humiliation flew between them. It was Cahill who blinked first. “If you know so much about dragons, why don’t you enlighten me?” His voice shook with barely concealed rage.
    Brea turned away from the intensity of his gaze. Her breath came hard and fast as she tried to decide where to begin. “First of all, dragons have very small brains. They’re governed by their instincts, which are essentially food and destruction.” She paced the room, stopping every few moments to glare at the prince. “How many horses did you lose?”
    “About fifty.”
    “And how many men?”
    Cahill was slow to reply. “Not quite so many, but close.”
    “Tell me, did the dragons eat the horses or the men?”
    Brea watched as Cahill considered her question. Then his eyes widened as realization struck. “They ate a few men, but…mostly horses.”
    “And, how many dragons did you slay?”
    Quietly, Cahill said, “One.”
    Brea clenched her fists and groaned. “One? One!” She shook her head and cursed as she paced some more. “I’m not a mathematician, Your Highness, but I think the odds are heavily in the dragons’ favor.”
    “Do you think I don’t know that?” Cahill shouted. “Do you think I don’t know that I led my men into a slaughter?” He stormed up to Brea and grabbed the front of her tunic to pull her face closer to his. “I watched them die, Brea. I was there.” Brea had seen Cahill upset. She’d seen him angry. Brea had never seen Cahill like this before. He looked like he wanted to tear out her throat with his teeth and, in his current state, Brea had no doubt he was completely capable of such a feat. In fact, Brea was pretty sure that was exactly what the prince intended to do as he twisted the knot of her hair in his fist, yanked her head