Last Gragon Standing:Dragon Kin 4

By: G.A.Aiken


It seemed that all of Dark Plains was silent this early morning, the suns barely awake themselves as the

Blood Queen came out on the steps, dressed in full battle gear. Her mate, already shifted to dragon and

in his battle armor, waited for her with his kin. Their last night together had been far too short, but, by the

gods, it had been memorable. And would hopefully help them both get through the time they’d be

separated from one another.

She stopped and looked back at her offspring. She crouched down and held her arms open. Her

children tore away from their nanny and charged over to their mother, wrapping their arms around her,

hugging her tight. She kissed them both and picked them up, handing them back to their keeper.

She leaned in and whispered, “Even a hint of trouble, Ebba—”

“And I’ll take all the children and be gone, my Queen. Have no worries.”

The Blood Queen stepped back and looked at those she called her sisters. The assassin witch, the

scheming warlord. They’d all had their sobbing good-byes nearly an hour ago, in private. They’d have no

more here for an audience.

The queen winked at her toddler niece, the little girl waving good-bye to her.

Turning, she went down the steps and met her mate. The Dragon Prince of Dark Plains pressed his head

carefully against her, the pair long ago beyond words. She kissed his snout, and walked away from him

to her waiting horse. Her eldest niece, now her squire, held out her helm. The queen put it on, tossing off

her shoulder the long mane of purple hair that came from the crown of her helm, winking at the

Northlander all that hair had once belonged to. He smiled in return and briefly bowed his head in respect.

She put her foot in the stirrup and mounted her horse.

Once settled, she took one last glance around. General Brastias would ride to her left, his second in

command, Danelin, to her right. Dragon Princess Morfyd had again taken up her role as Battle Mage to

Queen Annwyl and waited patiently to leave with the human troops. Her brothers, along with their

youngest sister and the three Horde dragons who’d accompanied Princess Keita’s return into the

Southlands, would be traveling into the north to face their enemies near the Ice Land borders.

Manning the inside and outside of the Garbhan Isle gates and the sides of the Great Hall steps were the

Kyvich warrior witches. Their leader bowed her head to the queen, the black tribal tattoos on her face

unable to make her look as frighteningly fierce as that one female truly was.

The Blood Queen felt confident that she could do no more to ensure her children’s safety while she was

gone—except win this war. Losing had never been an option for her during any battle, but there was

even more truth to that now. She’d feel no regret, no guilt, no sorrow for what she’d have to do to win.

And Annwyl the Bloody, Queen of Dark Plains, knew that when this was all over, when the last shield

had been cleaved, the last commander eviscerated, the last body burned, either her head would be on a

spike in the ruling Quintilian Provinces—or the Blood Queen would have truly earned her name and her


Did you miss the first three books in

G.A. Aiken’s fabulous dragon series?

The magic beings with



It’s not always easy being a female warrior with a nickname like Annwyl the Bloody. Men tend to either

cower in fear—a lot—or else salute. It’s true that Annwyl has a knack for decapitating legions of her

ruthless brother’s soldiers without pausing for breath. But just once it would be nice to be able to really

talk to a man, the way she can talk to Fearghus the Destroyer.

Too bad that Fearghus is a dragon, of the large, scaly, and deadly type. With him, Annwyl feels safe—a

far cry from the feelings aroused by the hard-bodied, arrogant knight Fearghus has arranged to help train

her for battle. With her days spent fighting a man who fills her with fierce, heady desire, and her nights

spent in the company of a magical creature who could smite a village just by exhaling, Annwyl is sure life

couldn’t get any stranger. She’s wrong…

[And just wait until you meet the rest of the family…]


For Nolwenn witch Talaith, a bad day begins with being dragged from bed by an angry mob intent on

her crispy end and culminates in rescue by—wait for it—a silver-maned dragon. Existence as a hated

outcast is nothing new for a woman with such powerful secrets. The dragon, though? A tad unusual. This

one has a human form to die for, and knows it. According to dragon law, Talaith is now his property, for

pleasure…or otherwise. But if Lord Arrogance thinks she’s the kind of damsel to acquiesce without a