“Oh,” Éibhear reasoned, “he’ll do well here.”
“Gods, that was brilliant,” Aidan laughed. “I couldn’t have done better myself.”
“Isn’t that your Iseabail?”
“She’s not my any—” Éibhear cut himself off, watching as Izzy slipped out of the forest from farther down the well-traveled road and joined the mass of people walking toward the nearby town. “Where’s she off to then?”
“Crazy thought . . . into town?”
Éibhear glared at Aidan before refocusing on Izzy. “With her horse and that damn, disgusting dog? And dressed for travel?”
“There’s Branwen.” Aidan pointed at Éibhear’s cousin, who was on the road back to Garbhán Isle. “I’m sure if you ask her nicely she might—”
“Oy! Branwen!”
Aidan sighed. “That doesn’t sound nice, idiot.”
Éibhear caught up to his cousin.
“What?” she snapped.
“Where’s Izzy off to?”
“No idea,” she lied. And he knew she was lying. So he handled it like he used to when they were still hatchlings. He grabbed his cousin by her legs and flipped her upside down, shaking her.
“You going to answer me now?”
“Piss off!”
“Still not nice,” Aidan complained.
“Quiet,” he snapped at his friend. “Tell me where she’s going,” he ordered his cousin.
“I’ll tell you nothing, bastard! Now let me up!”
“I’ll let you up when you tell me what I want to know.”
“Do you know who I am?” Brannie demanded. “I’m a captain of the Dragon Queen’s army! You’ll do as I say, Mì-runach scum, or face my—”
Éibhear slammed his cousin into the ground head first, holding on to her leg so he could yank her up again. “What was that?” he asked . . . nicely.
Aidan sighed, shook his head. “Branwen, dear, you had to know that was not the best way to come at a Mì-runach . . . I mean, really.”
She was on the road for about an hour when Macsen suddenly stopped in his tracks, his gaze moving up, his long tail sticking out straight, hackles up.
Izzy quickly dismounted Dai and pulled her sword.
It was a mistake made by many warriors who’d never fought with or against dragons before. But staying mounted on your horse when fighting dragons—the idea being the warrior could ride away quickly if necessary—was a foolish thing because for a dragon, catching horses was like catching chickens for a fox. They did it for a meal or sometimes just a treat. So when facing dragons she didn’t know, she always dismounted and pulled her weapon—and waited.
The air around her stirred, trees beginning to sway, and she knew large wings were flapping her way.
Izzy lowered her body, readying herself to strike.
Claws dropped to the ground and blue wings and hair temporarily blinded her as she heard Éibhear bellow, “It’s me! It’s me! Don’t do anything!”
When Izzy was able to finally see again, she saw that Éibhear had one claw over his eyes, his head turned. She almost laughed, realizing he was expecting her to strike. Although that was a good expectation.
She re-sheathed her sword. “What are you doing here, Éibhear?”
Spreading his talons, he peeked at her through the clear space.
Izzy held her hands up so he could see she’d put her sword away. The big baby!
Relaxing, he dropped his claws and faced her. “Thought I’d come along. Keep you company.”
“I don’t need company. In fact, what I need is some time to myself.”
“Why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I said so.” Izzy quickly held up her hands again to stop what could easily become a childish spat. “I’m merely going to your Uncle Bram’s house to pick up some papers that he left behind. I’ll be back in the morning.”
“Oh. All right then.”
With a nod, Izzy re-mounted her horse and settled into the saddle. Éibhear stepped back, allowing her to pass. But she held the reins and looked up at him. “You’re going to follow me anyway, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
He said it so simply, it made her feel kind of stupid. Like she should just understand that he’d be following her to Bram’s whether she wanted him to or not.
“Why?” she decided to ask, rather than yell.
“There’s some dangerous roads between here and Uncle Bram’s.”
“There’s dangerous roads everywhere. I’ve never needed you to follow me around before, so why would I need you now?”
“You’ve had an army at your back before. Now it’s just you. I’d rather not take the risk.”
“You’d rather not take the risk? You?”
“Aye.”
“You’d rather not take the risk with my life?”
“Aye.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Well, you and my brothers agree on something.”
Tired and worried about more important matters, Izzy said, “Do as ya like, Éibhear. You always do.” Then, with a touch of her knees, her horse moved forward. Macsen eventually followed but only after barking at Éibhear until they went around the bend in the road.
Éibhear landed about a half-mile from his uncle’s home. A small castle near the Bolver Fields. He shifted to human and changed into his clothes, walking the last bit to the castle.
By the time he walked through the open gate, Izzy was dismounting her horse. He expected her to snarl at him again for coming along, but she didn’t. Instead she looked around and asked, “Uncle Bram always leave that gate open?”
“He used to until Ghleanna became his mate. Nothing drove her crazier than to find the gate open. Is that how you found it?”
She nodded and, taking the reins of her horse, walked toward the main building.
“What’s his assistant’s name again?” he asked.
“Robert.”
“You check inside, I’ll check the other buildings.”
Éibhear searched the grounds and even went outside the gates and looked around for about two miles, but he found nothing. When he returned, Izzy had put up her horse in the unused stables and was now sitting on the big table in the middle of the hall. The table was only used for dining when Ghleanna and Éibhear’s cousins were in attendance. Otherwise, the table was covered in books and papers. And now Izzy’s butt.
“Nothing,” Éibhear said when he walked in. “You?”
“Empty.” She glanced around. “I guess Robert could have gone into town. Perhaps he’ll be back later.”
Standing next to her, Éibhear folded his arms over his chest. “Unless he had work to do. Depending on how much responsibility Uncle Bram gives his assistants, Robert could be gone for days. Do you know what Bram needs?”
“Yes, and a general idea of where it should be. Still . . .”
“You sound extremely disappointed,” he noted. “Were you and Robert . . . friendly?”
“I’m friendly with lots of people, Éibhear. But if you’re asking if we were f**king, then no—”
“I was not asking—”
“But he does make a wonderful leg of lamb and I am really hungry.”
“I can make you leg of lamb.”
“Thank you, but I prefer my meats cooked rather than burned to an unidentifiable crisp.”
“That’s Morfyd. She always overcooks the food. I, however, am a wonderful cook. I cooked for your mother. Didn’t she tell you? And by the gods of piss and blood, what is that horrible smell?”
“Oh, yes,” she sighed, not bothering to look at him. “The porridge story. Haven’t heard that in six . . . months. And that horrible smell is my dog. He’s under the table.”
“Can’t we put him outside?”
“No, we cannot.”
“Then can I—”
“Leave my dog alone. He’s not bothering you.”
“He’s bothering my senses. Between that smell and that slobbering sound he’s making.”
“He has allergies, it makes him drool.”
“And this is who you sleep with?”
“He sleeps on his back so there’s much less drool.” Then she added, “Although he does tend to wake up in the middle of the night choking.”
Shuddering, Éibhear stepped away from the table. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I’ll find something to feed us and you find what Uncle Bram needs.” He headed off to the kitchens. “Are we leaving tonight?” he asked as he walked.
“I have no idea what you’re doing, but I’m staying the night. I need time to think . . . preferably by myself.”
Éibhear stopped and faced her. “Will you be less caustic if I get a little food in you?”
“I might be,” she snapped. “As I said, I’m hungry and I have a lot on my mind!”
“Now we’ve got bellowing,” he muttered, again heading toward the kitchens. “Lovely.”
Annwyl sat at the desk she rarely used, one foot on the edge of the desk, her gaze focused on the stained-glass window. When the knock on the door came, she ignored it. But, as she’d learned over the years, there were few who lived at Garbhán Isle with her who let one ignored knock deter them. Yet she also knew that whoever was on the other side of that door was human, for dragons rarely knocked at all, and if they did knock, they rarely waited for her answer.
By the third knock, Talaith’s voice said from the other side, “Come on, you bitchy sow. I know you’re in there.”
Laughing a little, and also a little relieved to be pulled from her darker-by-the-day thoughts, Annwyl called, “In.”
Talaith entered, closing the door behind her. “You all right?”
“Do I have to be?”
“You should at least try. For the children.”
Then they laughed because some days it seemed like the last thing their children needed was them.
Talaith sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk, her hands resting on the wood. She wore her usual ensemble of black cotton leggings, black knee-high boots, and a loose cotton shirt. This time in a bright blue. Her long hair was loosely tied with a leather strap at her nape, the curly tendrils reaching down her back, and she wore no jewelry except for a lone silver necklace that she kept under her clothes and close to her heart. She was a woman with simple tastes and yet the most beautiful Annwyl had known.
She tried not to hate Talaith for that.
“How did it go with Izzy?” Annwyl asked.
“Surprisingly awful. Who knew she hated my mother so much? She’s never even met her.”
“Do you really not know how protective Izzy is of you?”
“I don’t need protection.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not to Izzy. As far as she’s concerned, your mother is a demon incarnate and deserves to burn for eternity for what she did to you.”