Free The Dragon Bard (Dragon of the Island) by Mary Gillgannon

never seemed to forget she was a woman. And because of his continued sexual regard, she couldn’t seem to forget it either. It put her at a disadvantage. Though she might outrank him as queen and be at least his equal as a warrior, as a man facing a woman, he had all the advantages.
    He’d made that clear already. She thought with a sense of embarrassment of the shameful way he’d overpowered her and made her drop her sword. Clever tricks, and yet she’d succumbed easily. It was partly, as he said, because she hadn’t seen him as a serious threat. A mistake, a very grave one. How could she have been so foolish? If she ever did anything so stupid when confronted with a real enemy, she would surely die.
    Her earlier worry suddenly returned, making her shudder. What if this man were allied with O’Bannon or some other chieftain who coveted her lands? He might have made up the tale of being the son of a British warlord. Yet there were many details that rang true, and it didn’t feel like he was lying when he talked about his past. That was real, she was certain.
    She also couldn’t see him allying himself with someone like O’Bannon. Or any man. This Bridei ap Maelgwn was too proud and self-sufficient. He called himself a prince and behaved like one.
    He spoke again. “Have you ever considered that if you marked the pathway on the way back, you might be able to find it more easily when coming from the rath?”
    She shook her head. “The mist would still rise, obscuring whatever signs were used to indicate the way. Besides, the forest is enchanted. It would be foolish to try to control things in this place.”
    “I suppose you’re right,” he said. “But it’s unsettling to travel blind through a mist. To trust you won’t end up lost forever.”
    “Ah, trust, is that not the way of all magic?” She turned halfway around so she could catch sight of him. As always, she was stunned by the perfection of his face. His graceful features. Those white even teeth and impossibly blue eyes.
    “Tell me,” he said. “How long have you been going to the lake? When did you discover it?”
    She turned away, concentrating once again on the pathway. “I was a child when I first went to the lake.” The memories came rushing back. The horror of fleeing her burning home. The terror that sent her into the woods.
    “You must have been a very bold child,” he said. “Few adults would dare to venture near such a place, let along a young girl.”
    She thought of the cat leading her to safety. In all the years since, she hadn’t seen the creature.
    “Why did you go there?” he asked. “Was it simple curiosity . . . or something else?”
    The peaceful clearing around the lake had been her refuge. She’d survived there on berries and nuts, staying for nearly half of a cycle of the moon. It was a deer that finally led her out of the woods, a beautiful hind that came down to the lake to drink. As she had with the cat, she knew she was meant to follow the creature. The deer led her to the other side of the forest, where there was a small farm, with small plots of oat and barley sprouting through the dark earth. She approached a boy tending a flock of sheep, and he took her back to his home, where his father recognized her as the chieftain’s daughter. She lived there for a time, helping as much as they would allow her. Then she moved on to another farm. And another. For nearly six years, the people who honored her father as king had sheltered her and hidden her, allowing her time to grow to womanhood.
    But she would not tell this man those things.
    She didn’t respond, but instead, quickened her pace. A few more steps and the forest ended. In the distance, Cahermara rose upon the hill, its pale stonework gleaming in the early morning light. From this direction she could see the unfinished part of the wall, reminding her of all the work left to do. If she could learn magic from this man, perhaps the construction process could be