“What in all that’s holy…”
Glendower, who had stupidly offered to be temporary Garbhán Isle vassal until the queen and her army returned, shook his head. Who knew suggesting the rotation of crops over to the south side of the castle grounds would cause the queen’s consort to get so terse. “I believe our lord misses the queen…greatly.”
“That woman,” Eyri panted, “cannot return fast enough.”
And Glendower most heartily agreed.
* * *
She’d been nervous since they walked in. Her legs under the table bounced incessantly. An already annoying habit he was hoping to break her of, but this was intolerable. And her eyes kept straying across the room to look at them.
Finally, Briec couldn’t stand it anymore. “Is there a problem, Talaith?”
Her eyes snapped back to the three dragons sitting at the table with her. “No. Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe it’s the way you keep staring at those four men over there.”
Gwenvael leaned back as far as he could manage, trying to get his body comfortable in the tiny table setting. Clearly no one designed these inns with dragon patrons in mind. “Do you know them?”
Her hand strayed to the rope burn on her neck. It’d turned into a lovely shade of purple and green, but at least, according to her, the pain plagued her no more. “Um…I know of them.” She shrugged. “They’re soldiers. Lord Hamish’s soldiers.”
All three of the brothers turned and stared at the men.
“Don’t stare at them,” she whispered fiercely.
“They look like travelers or priests,” Éibhear offered.
But Gwenvael shook his head. “They’re much more than that, little brother. They’re well-armed under those robes.”
“Oh.” Éibhear was silent for a moment. Then, in that Éibhear way, he said, “Let’s kill them then.”
Now all their attention turned to Éibhear.
“What? What did I say?”
Briec caught Talaith’s eyes and they smiled at each other. Every once in awhile Éibhear reminded them all he was still a young dragon.
“They haven’t actually done anything, pup,” Briec somehow managed to say without laughing. “We can’t just kill them.”
“Clearly Talaith feels threatened. Isn’t that enough?”
“No,” Gwenvael chuckled. “That’s not enough.”
“Well, it should be,” Éibhear grumbled as he took the rest of Gwenvael’s meal as his own.
“Have they ever hurt you,” Briec asked. If her answer was “yes”, then Éibhear would get his wish.
Talaith shook her head. “No. No. Nothing like that. I’m just wondering why they’re here. Little far from Madron, wouldn’t you say?”
She had a valid point.
“Aye. I know some who wouldn’t like the idea of any of Hamish’s men this close to Dark Plains.” And Garbhán Isle. Fearghus became awfully testy when he thought that viper he called mate might be in danger. Of course, the woman had been out with her army for months. How Fearghus tolerated that, Briec didn’t know. Simply thinking of Talaith leaving anytime soon gave him this very odd feeling in his chest. He didn’t know what it was, but he knew he didn’t enjoy it.
“I’d like to know how they got this far, in this weather,” Gwenvael questioned before finishing the last of his ale.
“That only matters,” Éibhear said while nearly inhaling the food off his plate as if he hadn’t eaten in years, “if they’re here to find Talaith. They may have already been traveling before the storms started.”
“Well, little human,” Briec asked softly. “Are they here for you?”
Instead of giving him an answer, Talaith said, “Perhaps we should just leave.” Talaith looked like she’d give anything to be able to disappear into the dirt floor.
The three brothers glanced at each other. These men would follow but, of course, that worked out better for them in the end.
“Good point. Let’s leave.”
“No dessert?” Éibhear appeared fairly stricken and Briec couldn’t help but laugh.
“I’m sure we’ll find something back at Gwenvael’s den to help with that sweet fang of yours.”
He dropped gold on the table and held his hand out for Talaith. She stared at it as if she expected it to tear out her throat.
“Problem?”
She forced a smile he hoped never to see from her again, it held so little life, and said, “No. Of course not.” Talaith stood without taking his hand and headed toward the door, pulling the hood of her cloak over her head.
Briec sighed as he followed his brothers out, knowing the men from the inn would be right behind them.
Good. He really wouldn’t mind killing something tonight.
* * *
They’d looped behind the buildings and came at them from the front, multiplying from four to ten. Briec pushed Talaith behind him, the males facing off.
Suddenly she was ever so grateful to have the protection of Briec and his kin. True, the soldiers wouldn’t kill her. She was too valuable. But she not only knew the reputation of the Madron soldiers, she’d seen it in action in her village.
She knew her trip back to Madron with these men would be…unpleasant. No. She had no intention of going with them. Her virtue may not be much but it was hers. And, unlike the dragon, she knew these men would honor nothing on their way back to Madron. Besides, Briec wouldn’t let her go, which secretly made her smile.
Still, there was no way this wouldn’t end without bloodshed.
“Hold, knights,” one of them calmly stated to the brothers—no doubt fooled by their chainmail and surcoats, which they’d dug up in one of Gwenvael’s caverns while discussing what they’d done to the men who once wore them. The soldier pushed his robes back so they could see the hilt of his blade. As Gwenvael noted, they were well armed. “I believe you have something that belongs to us.”
Something that belongs to them? Good thing the dragons stood between them. She’d kill them herself if she could get her hands around their collective throats.
“And what would that be, soldier?” Gwenvael asked with a smile. The brothers itched for this fight, their lust for blood flowing from them like honey.
“Give us the woman. We’ll let you live.”
No, they wouldn’t.
Gwenvael motioned to Talaith. “This woman? Sorry, my brother got to her first. She’s his prize. She stays with us.”
The ten soldiers drew their swords and the three brothers watched them do it.
She waited for them to do something. Walking out of the pub, the brothers had decided that shifting to dragon would be a last resort, since doing so could wipe out the entire town in the process. Gwenvael apparently had many barwenches and whores he made use of when he was bored, and he was unwilling to risk losing them. Which left fighting the soldiers in human form. Talaith had never seen them fight, so she had no idea how good or bad they were. Which worried her. She didn’t want Gwenvael or Éibhear hurt. And, she grudgingly admitted to herself, she felt even more so about Briec.
They all wanted this fight, though. Once males got this way, no use trying to get between them. So she stood and waited.
The one who’d spoken first lunged at Gwenvael, who easily grabbed hold of his sword arm and snapped it in two. She cringed at the screams that followed while Gwenvael twisted that broken arm with the sword still clutched in the hand and impaled the soldier with his own weapon.
Brutal, but very effective.
She stopped worrying at that point. She only had to see the fear on the remaining soldiers’ faces as the three brothers moved forward. The men stumbled back so quickly, they almost tripped themselves.
Debating whether to sit down until they finished with their current prey, she only had time to gasp when a hand slapped over her mouth. She started to struggle, but an arm around her waist stilled her. Instead, she went limp and allowed the man holding her to drag her into the nearby alley.
* * *
Briec was so bored. He thought he may have a challenge, but how much of a challenge could ten humans be to three dragons? Even dragons in human form.
Éibhear lifted one of the soldiers up in both his hands, then dropped him onto his knee, snapping the man’s back like kindling.
Briec rolled his eyes. His baby brother truly liked that move. What few knew, though, was their mother taught him that.
The three brothers stepped forward again, and again the remaining soldiers took several panicked steps back. That’s when Briec stopped. As they’d advanced, the soldiers continued to move back…and away. He looked over his shoulder and snarled.
“Where is she?” he yelled. It was a late hour and the streets deserted, his roar ricocheting off the surrounding buildings. The soldiers stared at him, unwilling and—at least a little—unable to answer.
No more games. “Burn them,” he snapped to his brothers.
He turned and traced his steps back while his brothers lit up the skies with their flames. He barely heard the screams of the dying men over the pounding thud of his heart.
If he’d lost her…if he’d stupidly allowed some trash to run off with his prize, he’d tear the land apart until he found her. Until he had her back right where she…
Briec stopped in his tracks. He watched Talaith walk out of a dark alley. She finger-combed her hair into place. Smoothed down her dress. Took a deep breath, and moved toward him.
In the darkness, it took her a moment to see him. But when she did he saw a myriad of human emotions pass over face. Relief. Concern. Annoyance. And panic. Especially when she glanced back at the alley. But she forced a smile on her face and headed toward him.
“Done then?”
“We’ll have to move quickly. The whole town will be out here soon.”
She nodded and hurried off toward his brothers while he took several quick steps back to the alley and looked in. He smelled human male.
He moved forward and found the body lying beside a pile of trash. An old warrior, with one eye long missing. Briec kneeled down and looked closely. The corpse’s one eye stared straight up. He appeared startled, but seemingly unharmed. Leaning closer, Briec stared hard at the man’s neck. Even in this darkness, his dragon eyes picked up the small pinholes dotting the soldier’s throat.
Briec raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Little witch, what skills you have.”
* * *
The town’s residents were so busy trying to put out the soldiers’ remains and to stop the fire that singed a few of their buildings; they didn’t even notice the four of them leaving. It took her a few moments once she caught up with Éibhear and Gwenvael to get her harried emotions under control. But by the time the dragons stopped blasting those soldiers with white flame, her breathing had returned to normal and she’d controlled her heart rate.
Not an easy skill, but one she’d learned well.
Now, with another storm moving on them quickly, they tromped through the forest toward a clearing so the brothers could return to their natural form and fly them back to the safety of Gwenvael’s cave. How she hated flying.