Rhiana

“Just so?” He spread his gaze across her face. A curious look. Fascinated or horrified? “You sensed another? Without sighting it? Sounds…magical, to me.”

“I have no magic, my lord.” She wanted to follow with, “I am not a witch,” but best to leave that word unspoken. For once heard…

“Who gave you permission to do such a thing?”

Permission? Rhiana gaped. To protect— To— Why, to see her family safe? She did not know what to say to that.

“You say there are others?”

“Mayhap,” she answered. Still at a loss—he expected her to ask before slaying a danger that threatened the very people of his village?

“So you are not sure. And yet, you boldly approach me with these ideas of another. You frighten us all, my lady.”

“I do not mean to. I only wish to protect—”

“Against imagined evils?”

“They are not imagined!”

“Did you see this other dragon?”

“N-no, but I—” Blessed be, why must the man be so difficult?

“You are not like other women.”

How many times had she heard that statement, and always as an accusation? It deserved the usual response. “I try, my lord, but sewing and cooking does little to satisfy me.”

“Ah?” He delivered a smirk over his shoulder. A few knights snickered. “Well, if it is satisfaction you desire….”

Oh, but she’d put her foot in it with that one.

“Is there a reason you had me escorted to you this day, my lord?”

“Indeed there is.” Mirth fell at Guiscard’s feet. The air of his forced humor instantly hardened. “I was boldly woken by my seneschal this morning with news of your foolhardy deed. Besides the rude awakening, I feel your cut against all in the village. How dare you take matters into your incapable hands.”

“But, my lord—”

“You are forbidden to prance about playacting at this nonsense of slaying dragons.”

“No one is playacting. You can find the carcass on the shore to the north.”

“I believe you, and I am horrified.” He said the last word with such drama, any who had not been discreetly listening now stared boldly at Rhiana. “How many others?”

“One.”

“You are sure?”

She nodded. Not sure, but willing to trust her instincts.

“I will not abide you to go near the caves. And should I hear you have gone against my wishes, I will have you chained and put in my, er—the dungeon.”

“But, my lord, the innocent people! Who will protect them?”

“That is what slayers are for.”

“A slayer?” But she was… Well, she wanted to be—no, she had slain two thus far. She was a slayer! “It will take well over a fortnight to call a proper slayer to St. Rénan. In that time half a dozen more will be plucked out from their boots. I can do this! I am—”

A woman who chases dragons.

The words caught at the back of Rhiana’s throat. Why could she not boldly declare her mien?

“And who will protect you?”

Her? Protection? The man did no more care for her welfare than he concerned himself with the crumbling infirmary that desperately needed repair.

“You, my lady, will heed my warning, and thus get yourself into the kitchen, where you can be taught proper skills such as kneading and sweeping and whatever else it is you females do. Isn’t that where your mother works?” A glance to Champrey verified. “Indeed. It is high time the woman trained her child to be the female she appears to be.”

The very nerve of him!

With nothing but snickers, male eyes bared, and weapons circling her as if a pack of hungry dogs, Rhiana thought the wiser at protest.

Nevertheless, her passions always ruled over her better sense. Girls are better than boys.

“I refuse to stand back and allow the dragons to take another life when I can stop it!”

The baron whipped a dagger glare from his arsenal. “You raise your voice to me, wench?” he hissed out of the side of his mouth.

Rhiana focused. She had become irate, her heart pounded, her shoulders tight. Lowering her head, she breathed through her nose, coming to accord with this ridiculous demand. Guiscard was a fool. Yet notions of a woman’s place were not unusual—to a man.

“It appears you have great concern for the womenfolk in your village. I can accept that.” No, she would not, but small lies were sometimes necessary. “Have you called for a slayer, then?”

Guiscard shrugged.

“You cannot dismiss the danger!”

“Champrey.”

At a nod from Champrey, three knights surrounded Rhiana, not touching, but it was evident they would wrangle her to their bidding if she spoke so much as one more word out of order.

A simple kick to their knees and a fist to a few jaws would serve her anger well.

“Now.” Guiscard sighed, and ran his fingers through his hair in an utterly vain display. “Will you be a good girl and listen to your betters?”

Betters? Rhiana required proof for that statement, but knew not to ask for such.

“Very good.” Guiscard took in the masses of hair spilling over her shoulders to her elbows.

The look made Rhiana clutch her arms across her breasts. ’Twas not a condemning look, more luxurious. Either one, it made her skin crawl.