13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

The butterflies in my stomach were bigger than Bastion in his griffin form. Was I doing the right thing still doing the heist when I should be putting my all into finding Daniella? But I'd delayed the search for the orb for long enough. Then I thought of Daniella, alone and afraid, and thunked my head on the dashboard. Greg reached out and rubbed my back, soundlessly offering support.

It's too late to second-guess ourselves now, Esme pointed out pragmatically.

You're right. We're about to go full Ocean's 11.

You said there were four oceans, five if you count the southern one.

Ocean's 11 is a heist movie, a really good heist movie.

She snorted. We're not doing a clever, secretive heist, we're exploding a hole in the wall.

I winced. She was right: this wasn't designed to be a subtle job. I wanted Geneve to know there had been a theft, and I wanted her to come at me with all she had. She'd demoted Emory and ruined his and Jess's perfect life; this wasn't a petty grudge I was holding onto. The Elder dragon deserved a smackdown and I was ready to give it to her.

I sat up as the car stopped. We'd arranged to meet the dwarves in a nondescript car park in Llangollen, a five-minute drive from Castell Dinas Bran, Geneve's home and hoard. Greg was driving and I was next to him with Ben and Tarkers in the back. Wakado and Debbie were following in another car and all five dark seraph were, quite literally, in the wind.

We had parked up next to a red bus. ‘Come on,' Greg said. ‘I'll introduce you to Osian Jones.'

The name was as Welsh as they came. I didn't really know what to expect from the dwarves and if I'd had more time, I would have researched their culture before meeting the creatures. And yes, they were designated as creatures because they didn't need to return to the Common realm. But time was moving so fast and my attention span these days was limited so that I hadn't had a spare moment to indulge in research.

‘Just … think before you speak,' Greg urged.

I gave him a flat look. I always thought before I spoke.

‘I'm just saying, dwarves can be touchy. Don't mention his stature.'

I rolled my eyes. Even the Common realm had managed to pick up that dwarves were small. Fiction always said the same thing about them; they were short, grumpy and bearded. Nothing Greg had said had persuaded me that fiction was wrong.

I looked around for some short, grumpy, bearded men loitering in the car park but saw none.

Greg tugged me towards the bus before rapping loudly on the door. It swung open with a hiss. As we boarded the bus, I struggled not to gape. It was full of dwarves, all with long beards, all diminutive in stature – and all completely drunk. I mean, really sozzled.

The bus smelt of vodka and gin, and farts. Lots of farts. Oof.

‘To her downfall!' a dark-haired dwarf at the back cried.

‘Ay!' came the resounding reply as the dwarves cheered and sipped from their metal hip flasks.

‘Osian!' Greg called loudly, looking disapprovingly at the shit-faced dwarves. ‘Perhaps we could speak outside?'

A fellow staggered towards us; his head was shaved and his flaming red beard had to have been dyed. ‘Manners! You've still acquired none I see.' He belched, obviously not worried about his own manners. ‘What's occurring? Who's the pretty whore?'

I can bite him for you if you like, Esme offered hopefully.

Better not, I said with faux reluctance. We might need more tunnels in the future.

‘The pretty "whore" is my Queen and mate,' Greg snarled. ‘So keep a civil tongue in your mouth or I'll happily rip it out for you.' He said the nicest things.

‘The Queen?' The dwarves murmured amongst themselves before falling silent. They were looking at me with such expectation that I had to resist the urge to turn around and see if someone was behind me. What did they think I was going to do – start proclaiming laws and chopping off heads? Though granted, Esme would have been totally up for that.

The air stilled and the bus was suddenly filled with overwhelming tension. Glares were being levelled at Greg and dwarven hands had moved to rest lightly on the knives and axes that they carried around their waists.

Uh-oh. I'd thought they'd be happy to see me, but Greg's threat had really changed the atmosphere. A moment earlier they'd seemed so jocular but now they were clearly ready to fight. The bus's close quarters meant that they couldn't all rush us at once, but even so there were a lot of dwarves to fight if this went south.

All eyes were on Osian to see how he would respond to Greg's threat. I was wondering that myself. Esme and I were tense as we prepared to shift if we needed to.

Terrance, be ready, I warned my crown.

Always, my Queen.

Osian met Greg's eyes and held them for a long beat, his expression grim, then suddenly he grinned and gave a chuckle that reverberated around the bus. ‘Ah, fuck me sideways if I haven't missed you, you brethren stick up the ass!'

The bus erupted into cheers and hands eased away from their weapons. ‘Stick up the ass!' they all chanted.

This was not Lord of the Rings . The dwarves were totally plastered. And rude. And violent. How dare they criticise Greg's manners? He was always a gentleman – apart from that one little threat to rip out their tongues. But kings chopped off heads all the time, so clearly my fiancé was destined to be royalty.

‘What's with all the drinking?' I asked Osian curiously. ‘Is it a party or…?'

‘We're celebrating tunnelling under Dinas Bran! We did a cracking job!' one of the younger-looking ones hollered .

‘And we're remembering those who didn't survive last time we tunnelled there,' an older dwarf added more sombrely. Then he hit the younger one on the top of his head.

Nobody spoke for what seemed like a long time until Osian rumbled, ‘Ay, that we are, fellas.'

Once again, I felt like I was missing something. ‘Why is Dinas Bran so important?' I asked, to break the lingering silence before it reverted to the threatening silence we'd had before.

Osian looked at me. ‘It was our home first,' he complained gruffly. ‘Then the she-dragon fancied it and took it for her own.'

‘I'm so sorry. When was that?'

He rubbed a hand across his shiny head. ‘Oh, in the 1500s or there about.'

‘Five hundred years ago?' I asked incredulously.

‘There or thereabouts. She gave my ancestors the heave-ho and scarcely let them escape with their lives. We hoped she'd grow bored with Dinas Bran so we could return to our ancestral homelands, but when she showed no signs of that we sent our men to retrieve some of our more choice items. That expedition didn't end well.'

‘And you think this one will?'

He grinned. ‘Ay, we know it will. '

‘And how's that?'

Osian winked and touched the side of his nose. ‘Seers.'

My stomach lurched. ‘Not a prophecy!'

His smile widened. ‘Not a fan of them, are you?'

‘I've had enough prophecy to last a lifetime.' I paused. ‘Is the prophecy about me?'

He laughed until he was almost bent double. ‘Aw now, you're a narcissistic one, aren't you, cariad ? The world doesn't revolve around you, dearie. According to prophecy, this is the day that we will recover the hammer of Arwen. Soon, we'll have it back.'

‘So that's what we're getting for you from her hoard?'

‘Cracking. That'd do nicely.'

‘What does it look like?'

He gave me a flat stare. ‘Like a hammer.'

I glared right back. ‘And what if there are fifty hammers down there?'

He snorted. ‘Lady She-Dragon isn't into DIY, Queenie. You just march down, grab any hammer you see, plus whatever you've come for, then you march right out. We'll be waiting for you here. The tunnel is all set – you won't be able to miss it.'

That set off more gales of laughter; it was obviously an inside joke .

‘It's by two trees,' another dwarf wheezed between gasps of laughter.

Ok-ay, then. ‘Well, it's been a pleasure,' I said tightly. ‘We'll see you later – with the hammer.'

Osian looked at me with gleaming eyes. ‘Fair play,' he said. ‘You rightly will.'