Chapter Four
Without wings or clothes and on their human feet, the small group made it several miles from their enemies. It was at times like this that Branwen wondered how humans did it. How did they go on, day to day, without wings, practically hobbled by their tiny feet? It wasn’t that she had to use her wings all the time—it was knowing that she could that made all the difference.
But now, in order to avoid alerting any of the Zealots lurking in the trees—probably on the lookout for enemy dragons—they had to stay on the ground. They had to move silently. On their tiny human feet.
She wouldn’t call all this hell, exactly, but it was close.
Thankfully Caswyn eventually woke up and was able to at least drag his feet along, his arm over Brannie’s shoulders. She was grateful for that bit of help. After two, three hours, the big bastard had gotten heavy.
Five hours in, the enemy legions behind them, Brannie stopped.
“What are we doing?” Aidan asked, Uther limping not far behind. He’d quickly gotten fed up with being “made to feel weak!” But Aidan had kept close, helping when needed to keep his friend moving on their long, wingless journey.
“I think this is a good place to turn around and head back.”
“Head back?” Aidan frowned. “Head back to where?”
“To our troops. To Izzy and Éibhear. To everyone.”
“That does not sound like a good idea, Branwen.”
Brannie focused on Aidan, her gaze narrowing. “You want to run away?”
“We already ran away. But if we’re going back, I want to take a more logical course than the one that will lead us directly into the arms of our enemies.”
“Which is what way?”
He took a moment to look around, examining the area, before pointing. “That way. We go down to—”
“That’ll take us completely off course.”
“If you’d let me finish . . .” When Brannie folded her arms over her chest and began tapping her foot, Aidan went on. “We go down that way through the next few towns. Then we turn back and follow around the Big Lakes of Rhionganedd. That will allow us to—”
“Lose days,” Brannie cut in. “Absolute days, if not more than a week. I won’t do it. We’ll go this way.”
“No. We won’t.”
Brannie didn’t know how it happened. How she and Aidan found themselves almost nose to nose, their anger palpable. Logically she knew they were both exhausted and feared greatly for their comrades. But that didn’t seem to matter at the moment as the pair squared off against each other.
“We are not about to sacrifice ourselves on the altar of your guilt.”
“What the battle-fuck does that even mean?” Brannie exploded.
“It means you need to stop blaming yourself for what happened. You had nothing to do with this.”
“I never said—”
“And we’re not about to run into a battle we can’t possible win because you feel guilty!”
“I do not feel guilty!”
“Liar!”
“Oy!” Brannie thought she heard the sound coming from behind her, but chose to ignore it.
“Don’t you dare call me a liar,” Brannie warned.
Aidan leaned in even closer, their noses now touching, and snarled, “Liar.”
“Oy!”
Startled, the pair parted and looked at Uther, who may have been trying to insert himself into their conversation for quite some time.
“What?” Aidan barked.
Uther pointed with his good arm. “That.”
Brannie looked down the opposite side of the road and watched four horses pulling a carriage, happily trotting along.
The animals began walking toward them until the horses reached them and stopped.
Brannie immediately began petting one. “They don’t seem hurt,” she noted. “Or frightened. Anyone in the carriage?”
Aidan opened the door of the elaborately designed vehicle and leaned in. “No. It’s empty.”
Brannie stepped away from the horse and walked past the carriage. She gazed down the road, trying to see if someone was running after the animals. But she saw no one and she didn’t have the time to look.
An expensive carriage like this . . . “Is there blood?” she asked Aidan.
“No.”
Brannie waited a bit longer, but when she still saw no one looking for the carriage, she announced, “We’ll take the horses.” But when she turned she saw that Aidan had already unhooked the horses and was handing the leather straps off to Uther and Caswyn so the horses could be easily led around.
When he handed her the straps of the horse she’d petted, he asked, “What?”
“I hadn’t said yet that we were taking the horses.”
“You just did.”
“But you were already unhooking the horses from the carriage before I said anything.”
“Because I knew you’d be logical about this.”
“I hadn’t given the order.”
“Oh. I understand. You seem to think of me as someone who actually reports to you. I don’t.”
“You two,” Caswyn gasped out as Uther somehow managed to help him mount one of the bigger horses. “Before you start again with all the arguing, think I can get a drink of water before I die a long and painful death?”
“No,” Brannie immediately replied.
“Of course,” Aidan said at the same time.
They glared at each other.
“Please,” Caswyn practically begged. “I’m thirsty and I’m almost positive I’m bleeding internally.”
Deciding that arguing with Aidan at this moment wouldn’t be in anyone’s best interest, Brannie easily mounted her unsaddled horse and wrapped the thick leather straps around her hands. She turned her horse and headed back from where the animal came from, assuming water would be that way if someone had been traveling from that direction. She didn’t know this area well and didn’t want to end up taking them to waterless territory.
After a solid fifteen minutes, Uther called a halt and pointed into the trees next to the road. “I hear running water. That way.”
“Uther, stay with Caswyn. Aidan and I will bring water back for you.”
Thinking the horses might need water too, she and Aidan brought them along. Brannie dismounted and led the horses in carefully. As they moved, she realized how much sound the animals made even on this mossy ground and thought about finding material that they could wrap around the horses’ hooves to silence them. The Daughters of the Steppes were known for doing that when they wanted to sneak up on an enemy, and Brannie was more than happy to try their tricks when necessary.
After a short walk, they reached what turned out to be a pond. What Uther had heard, though, was the small waterfall that fed it.
Brannie released the horses, assuming the animals would follow on their own, and went the last few steps to the pond. She dropped on her knees and scooped up the water with her hands. As she brought the clear liquid to her lips, she noticed that the horses not only didn’t follow her, but they were backing up.
She was watching them, baffled, when she heard a familiar female voice suggest, “I wouldn’t drink that if I were you.”
Brannie quickly looked across the pond and with a gasp, quickly slapped Aidan’s hands, knocking the water he’d just scooped up away from his mouth.
“Hey!” Aidan complained. “What was that for?”
Brannie pointed. “Her.”
* * *
Aidan stared in confusion at Keita the Viper in her human form. Actually, her full name was Keita the Red Viper Dragon of Despair and Death, Princess of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, Second Born Daughter and Fourth Born Offspring of Queen Rhiannon and Bercelak the Great.
But most just called her Keita the Viper. It was easier.
She stood on the other side of the pond, looking beautiful and very royal in a purple silk gown covered in a darker purple cape, the hood pulled up so that it almost covered her long red hair, but not really. There was enough there to tantalize any dragon or man who might want to see more.
“I don’t know why you are using that accusing tone, cousin. I don’t appreciate it.”
“What have you done?” Brannie demanded, standing tall.
“There it is again. Still don’t like it.”
“Answer me, Keita. What have you done?”
With a dramatic sigh—although Keita always seemed dramatic to Aidan—she lifted her skirts, turned, and flounced off.
With a growl, Brannie followed and Aidan went after both She-dragons.
He quickly caught up with Keita as she reached a small group of royals. She faced them and with a majestic wave of her hand announced, “I did this.”
They were all dead. Every last one of them. After they’d had a drink of water from the nearby pond, he was guessing.
“Oh, Keita,” Brannie sighed, shaking her head.
“What? What is that tone?”
“Why did you kill them? Are you just bored?”
“Of course I’m not!”
“If you’re that bored, there’s a whole battlefront you can go to where you can kill to your heart’s desire.”
“Oh stop, Branwen. I killed these people because they had to die.”
“Because you were bored? Or do voices tell you things? Evil things?”
Keita rolled her eyes . . . again, dramatically.
“For the love of the gods,” Keita sighed. “They were transporting gold that would then be shipped to Duke Salebiri so he could hire more troops.”
“He hires troops?”
“They’re not all Zealots, cousin. Anyway, I was traveling with them, to see if my information was correct, and it was. So I poisoned the pond water and there you go.”
“And there you go?” Brannie barked. “What if someone else drinks it? We almost drank it! We were going to give the water to Caswyn and Uther, too!”
“Who knew you idiots were roaming around here?”
“That’s not the point.”
“The poison I used has a very short lifespan and with the fresh water coming in from that waterfall, everything should be fine in a . . . week or two.”
“Week or two?”
“I had to make sure they were dead.”
Brannie briefly closed her eyes and Aidan winced. He knew she was getting angrier by the second.
Finally she asked, “Why aren’t you safe back in Devenallt Mountain, cousin? Or, even better, with your bloody mate in the Northlands?”
Keita raised a finger. “First, I see I need to remind you, again, that I am unmarked by any male. I have no mate.”
“You’ve had twelve of his offspring. Twelve! How can you not be Ragnar the Cunning’s mate?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, child.”
“I am not a child anymore, Keita.”
“Well, you never were,” Aidan pointed out.
Brannie glared at him.
“Because you’re dragon,” he explained, which got him one of Brannie’s rare eye-crossings.
“You know . . .” Keita suddenly studied them both and Aidan was dragon enough to admit . . . that made him very nervous.
“We know what?” Brannie asked, also sounding a little terrified.
Keita’s head tipped to the side and one long finger tapped the side of her mouth as she studied them.
And, for the first time ever, Aidan saw what Éibhear had always said. “If you look closely, you realize Keita resembles my mother more than Morfyd ever could.”
Aidan had dismissed Éibhear’s statement, believing that Morfyd, with her white hair and crystal-blue eyes, was like a twin to the queen. But Éibhear had been right all along, hadn’t he?
Aidan knew that now as he watched the princess coldly size them up like cattle she’d found at an open market.
“Plus you also have Uther and Caswyn with you?”
“They’re wounded.”
“I’m sure that can be fixed.” She nodded. “This could work out perfectly,” Keita announced. “Yes. Perfect. I can definitely use you all.”
Aidan just bet she could.
“Use us for what?” Brannie asked.
“To help me—”
“No,” Brannie stated quickly, with no room for argument. But Keita found room. She always found room.
“If you’d only listen—”
“No.”
“It’s import—”
“No.”
Keita put her hands on her hips, her expression now truly annoyed. “I am a princess. I order you, Branwen the Awful.”
And when Brannie bent over at the waist, her hands on her knees, her hysterical laughter ringing out over the entire forest—Aidan wasn’t exactly surprised.
Then Brannie looked at him. She looked at him in that way she had.
And that’s when he started laughing, too.
* * *
“Oh, thank you, Keita,” Brannie stated with all honesty. She wiped tears from her eyes. “Poor Aidan and I had been sniping at each other the last hour or so, but you made us feel so much better. Didn’t she, Aidan?”
He nodded since he was unable to reply verbally. What with the hysterical laughter and all.
“I’m not joking, Branwen. I’m ordering you all to accompany me on my journey.”
“Stop! Stop!” Brannie begged, now leaning against Aidan’s shoulder, unable to keep herself standing. “You’re killing us!”
Keita’s dark brown eyes narrowed on Brannie, but what did her ridiculous cousin expect? That she actually had any control of this situation? Yes. She was a princess. Yes. She was royal born. But during a war the only ones with true power over troops were the queen and those given military titles. Like Branwen. Like her mother. Like all her uncles and aunts. Not like Keita. Never Keita.
She loved her cousin, she really did, but she’d never taken her seriously. Not unless it involved juicy gossip about the family or other useless royals like herself.
Still . . . no point in hurting Keita’s feelings—assuming she had any feelings—so Brannie choked back her laughter and reached over to slap Aidan’s shoulder to get him to stop laughing as well.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stood tall, his laughter under control.
Until they made the mistake of locking eyes. Then they both burst out laughing once more, Brannie bending over at the waist, Aidan forced to lean against Brannie this time in order to continue standing.
“We’re sorry, Keita,” Brannie gasped out, seeing through her tears that her cousin had closed her eyes. She assumed in frustration. “It’s just—”
“Finding amusement at my daughter’s expense?” Brannie heard a voice ask. A voice she recognized better than her own.
Brannie wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands, and she gawked at her Aunt Rhiannon, who was standing not too far from her. She was in her human form, completely naked, and eating plums from a nearby tree.
Plum trees? There were no plum trees in this forest.
“Auntie . . . Rhiannon?” Brannie shook her head, glanced around, confused. “How did you . . . ?”
Aidan was still laughing so she punched his shoulder and pointed. When he saw Rhiannon, the Mì-runach immediately dropped to one knee, head bowed.
Brannie fought her desire to sneer and roll her eyes. Her aunt wouldn’t appreciate that one bit.
To avoid doing any of that, Brannie looked around again and now understood what was confusing her. They were no longer in the forest with the poisoned pond. They were somewhere else.
“My sacred space, dear,” Rhiannon replied, even though Brannie hadn’t asked the question. “Much easier than sending messages back and forth through Keita since she can never seem to get that right.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Keita complained while reaching for one of the plums hanging near her. She had one in her hand but her mother slapped it away.
“Mum!”
“My plums!” Rhiannon snarled before smiling sweetly at Brannie and Aidan. “Stand, my dear Aidan the Divine. Stand.”
He did but, to Brannie’s growing disgust, she immediately noticed he still didn’t make eye contact with the queen.
Oy. The Mì-runach. They took their kowtowing to the queen so seriously.
“Now, my sweets, what is going on?”
Before Keita could answer, Brannie explained, “Your daughter’s murdering people again.”
“It wasn’t murder, you peasant,” Keita argued. “It was necessary action.”
“That’s what all murderers say.”
Rhiannon held up her hand with a half-eaten plum in it. “Wait. Who are we talking about?”
“Duke Abernathy, his wife, his two eldest sons, and their guards,” Keita blandly explained. As if she was talking about inviting them to some stuffy tea rather than confessing she’d just killed all of them.
“Oh, yes.” Rhiannon shrugged. “Keita’s right. They had to go. They were giving gold and supplies to that idiot Salebiri. You must know, Branwen, that Abernathy has never been a fan of our Annwyl.”
“So his whole family had to die?”
“Yes,” mother and daughter said simultaneously.
“And Annwyl’s all right with that? Since they were human and under her reign.”
Staring at Brannie coldly, Rhiannon’s lips twisted to the side and, to her amazement, Brannie’s view was suddenly blocked by Aidan’s back.
“My queen,” he said in his best soothing voice, “Branwen’s been through much today and I’m sure—”
“I can talk for my—” Brannie began, but Aidan abruptly caught hold of her wrist and pulled her around until she was in front of him. Then he wrapped his arms around her as if he was hugging her from behind, except that his hand covered her mouth.
“—you can easily understand,” he went on, “how she is feeling. We were buried under a mountain. Poor Uther and Caswyn are injured.”
“My Mì-runach babies!” the queen gasped. “Perhaps I should go to them.”
“Mum!” Keita snapped. “We have a problem here. Now! Your pets can wait.”
“Can they travel?” Rhiannon asked Aidan.
“With a healer and a good night’s sleep, I don’t see why not.”
“Take care of that, Keita.”
“Mum—”
“Do as I say. You have a stop tonight anyway.”
“Which is what I need them for.”
“Then it should all work out, shouldn’t it?” Rhiannon snapped.
Brannie finally yanked Aidan’s hand away from her mouth. “I never said that I would—”
Now Aidan’s forearm covered her face so that she could again not speak.
Bastard!
* * *
Aidan was having the hardest time keeping Brannie quiet. As human, they were nearly the same tall height, which made putting his arms around her easier, but also made her his equal in a fight. And she was fighting.
He didn’t understand. Why didn’t she see that he was simply trying to protect her from her own Cadwaladr stupidity? No matter who she was, whom she was related to, or what rank she held, at the end of the day . . . Rhiannon was queen and she had only so much patience with those who questioned her orders.
How could Brannie not see it? How could she not see how much power the queen wielded? Not just as queen but as a witch. They were standing in what Rhiannon called her “sacred space.” A place with trees that had fresh fruit that could be eaten, one sun, and squirrels. There was one right there, climbing up a tree behind the queen. That was power. That was a She-dragon who could eat the world if she so chose. So what made Brannie think that she could get away with questioning Rhiannon’s orders?
Brannie managed to pull away by slamming her foot against his instep. Aidan stumbled back as she swung her arms wide to force him farther away.
“Get off! Get off! Get off!” she barked.
“He’s merely protecting you, Branwen.”
“Protecting me from what?”
Rhiannon smirked. “Me, silly girl.”
“I take my orders from your generals, Your Majesty. And until I hear from one of them, I will be heading back to my troops.” She turned to make a strong exit, but quickly realized they didn’t know how to exit Rhiannon’s world.
“You want orders?” Rhiannon asked.
“Actually, I want to get out of here.”
“Then orders you shall have.” Rhiannon raised her left hand and snapped her fingers.
Ghleanna the Decimator suddenly appeared. Wherever she’d been, she’d been leaning over. Perhaps at a desk. Probably going over battle plans. But the desk was no longer there and Ghleanna hit the ground hard.
She came up cursing. “What the unholy fuck—?” she bellowed, stopping short when she got to her feet, her eyes taking in the one sun above.
“Rhiannon,” she growled, “I hate when you do this.”
“Sorry, sister, but I need your assistance”—she swept her hand in Brannie’s direction—“with her.”
Ghleanna turned, her eyes widening at the sight of her daughter. “Branwen?”
“Hi, Mum.”
Suddenly Ghleanna stalked over to Brannie and grabbed her in a long hug.
“Uh . . . Mum?”
“We thought you were dead, Branwen,” Rhiannon explained.
Brannie blinked in surprise, her gaze flicking to Aidan’s over her mother’s shoulder. Then her arms were right around her mother, the pair hugging like they hadn’t seen each other in a century rather than a few months.
“I’m fine, Mum. Really.”
“What happened?” Ghleanna asked.
“Mountain went down.”
The general pulled back and gawked at her daughter. “The mountain went down?”
“Yeah. Mountain went down.”
“How is that even possible?” Ghleanna asked the queen.
* * *
Fearghus landed hard, Briec and Gwenvael right behind him. Taking a few more tentative steps, he leaned over and studied the long, wide schism that had opened up in what had once been the most recent battlefield of this war.
“What the battle-fuck is this?” Briec asked, leaning over Fearghus’s shoulder.
Without an answer for his brother, Fearghus instead examined the area. “Weren’t there mountains? Like . . . lots of mountains. All around here?”
“Aye. There were.”
Fearghus had been leading his troops here to attack from the skies when the very air around him turned violent, tossing him and the troops around for several seconds before they were able to right themselves again and proceed. He’d decided to keep his troops back until he investigated what the hell had happened. He still didn’t know, but he was sure that whatever had happened was not good. For anyone.
Gwenvael pushed past his brothers and leaned far over the pit to stare into the blackness. “Do you think they all fell down there?” he asked.
Briec glanced at Fearghus.
“Maybe you should find out,” Fearghus suggested, seconds before Briec shoved their younger brother in.
They ignored the screaming as Fearghus told Briec, “Let’s find the children.”
* * *
“They took out all the mountains in that region,” Rhiannon explained, her hands clasped together. “They used spells centuries old. From before even my mother’s time.”
“Destroying eons of work by gods and dragons.” Ghleanna shook her head. “Bastards.”
“Now my dragons have nowhere to safely hide from man or enemy. All in that region will be trapped out in the open.”
“So we’re pulling out?” Brannie asked, her rage seemingly gone now that her mother was here.
Aidan was relieved. He wasn’t sure that Brannie knew Rhiannon as well as she thought she did. She saw her as an aunt, but the queen didn’t let the love she had for her mate’s kin get in the way of her reign. Brannie hadn’t seen that side of her “dear auntie Rhiannon.”
Glances passed between Rhiannon and Ghleanna at Brannie’s question.
“What?” Brannie asked.
“We’ve pulled back, but we’re not pulling out,” Ghleanna told her daughter. “Instead, we’re planning a full strike—led by your uncle Bercelak.”
Aidan immediately turned to the queen. “Lord Bercelak is leaving your side?”
“I want this done, Aidan. They’ve been destroying my lands, now our mountains. Burning the forests, salting the earth. And next they’ll go for our water supplies. We can no longer afford to go back and forth with them. Another year of this and we’ll have nothing left for all of you to come home to.”
“At this moment,” Ghleanna explained, “King Gaius is using his legions to push Salebiri’s troops back to their soil. Then we close ranks around them—and crush them. Once we’re done there, we take out Salebiri at his home front, leaving nothing behind.”
Brannie nodded at her mother’s words. “Good.” She glanced at Aidan and said, “We need to get back and—”
“No,” Ghleanna cut in. She jerked her thumb at a surprisingly quiet Keita. “You go with your cousin.”
Brannie reared back as if she’d been slapped.
“I’ll do no such thing.”
Black eyes locked on black eyes. “You’ll do as I order you to.”
“No. Not on this. I will not risk my troops—Mum! Ow! Stop it!”
Aidan cringed watching Ghleanna the Decimator grab her daughter by the hair and walk off with her.
“Excuse us a minute,” she growled at Rhiannon.
“Take your time.”
Once the two She-dragons were a bit away from them for privacy, Rhiannon smirked at Aidan and asked, “Do you plan to disobey any orders, dearest Aidan?”
“Who? Me?” He snorted. “I like my hair just where it is, my queen. On my head.”
“It does look lovely there.”
He smiled. “Doesn’t it?”
* * *
Brannie tried to pull away from her mother without hurting her, but Ghleanna gripped her the same way she used to when she had to separate Brannie from her brother Celyn.
“Mum!” she barked again. “Let me go!”
Her mother abruptly released her, sending Brannie back-first into the trunk of a very large oak.
“What do you think you’re doing?” her mother demanded.
“What am I doing? Trying not to get in a brawl with me own mum. That’s what!”
“When you’re given an order—”
“But, Mum—”
Her mother held up one blunt, angry finger. And it was so angry.
“When you’re given an order by a superior,” she said again, “you bloody well follow it.”
“Even when I know it’s wrong? Even when I know it’s a waste of my bloody time?”
“Who are you to say it’s wrong?”
“You want me to follow Keita. I love my cousin, but—”
“Ren has disappeared.”
“Ren? Ren who?” Ghleanna raised a brow, and Brannie guessed, “Ren of the Chosen?”
Ren of the Chosen was the youngest offspring of Empress Xinyi, the dragon ruler of the Eastland Empires far across the seas. When he was much younger, he’d been sent to Devenallt Mountain by his then-ruling father. From what Brannie had heard, no one had known what to expect from any Eastland royal, much less one related by direct bloodline to the Chosen Dynasty.
But Ren had surprised everyone by fitting in. Not only with the royals, but even the Cadwaladrs. Bercelak had nothing but good things to say about him, and Brannie’s uncle had nothing good to say about anyone.
It was Keita, though, who became Ren’s closest ally, the pair heading off on their own adventures when they’d become old enough.
And their friendship over all these years had never waned.
“I’m sorry for Keita, Mum, but . . . so?”
“He was heading back to the Eastlands to see if the Empress would join us in our fight against the Zealots.”
Brannie let out a frustrated breath. “Well . . . again, that’s unfortunate, but—”
“And somewhere between Annwyl’s castle and the Port Cities Ren vanished. An event that has put us in a very bad situation.”
“Why?”
“Because Ren was under our protection when he vanished and has been since the day he’d stepped on our territories.”
“What did his guards say?”
“They’re dead.”
“Oh.” Brannie glanced off. “Well . . . that’s not good.”
* * *
Talwyn saw her father land in the midst of the chaos as their troops worked to get their new camp set up. And by the time she’d pushed past all those in the way, her father was in his human form and had on his leggings and boots.
She ran into her father’s open arms.
“Daddy!”
He lifted her off the ground and hugged her tight. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“Of course she is. She’s pure evil.”
Talwyn smiled. “Good to see you too, Uncle Briec.”
“Demon offspring,” Briec greeted back. “Now where is my perfect daughter? You kept her safe, didn’t you?”
“She’s fine.” Talwyn tapped her father’s shoulders and he placed her back on the ground. “She didn’t react well, though, when the spells began to fly.”
“What do you mean?”
“She started bleeding from the eyes, but—”
“My baby!” Briec barked, tearing off into the camp.
Talwyn shrugged and focused on her father. “She’ll live.” She glanced around. “Where’s Uncle Gwenvael?”
“I’m sure he’s fine,” her father said dismissively.
“Why are you here, Daddy?” Talwyn asked, not in the mood to delve further about the missing Gwenvael.
“These recent attacks have changed our plans. Even before this nightmare . . . the queen had a new move.”
Talwyn cringed. “That sounds ominous, Da.”
“When it involves your grandmother—it usually is.”
* * *
“We need Ren found.”
“And if he’s dead or if we can’t find him?” Brannie asked her mother. “What then?”
“Then you accompany Keita to the Eastlands and protect her while she kills the Empress and most likely all of Ren’s siblings.”
Brannie’s eyes grew wide as her mother tried to walk off. She grabbed her arm and yanked the She-dragon back.
“Have you two lost your minds?”
“If that dragoness thinks we’re responsible for the death of her son, she’ll call for war anyway. And that we can’t afford. A new emperor may be more reasonable.”
Ghleanna tried to walk away once more but Brannie still had hold of her and yanked her back.
“I’m not going to allow Keita the Viper to kill an entire ruling family. There has to be something else we can do.”
“Do you plan to negotiate with royals?”
“That’s not really my strength, Mum.”
“All right then.”
“But Keita can negotiate with anyone. Between her smile and her cock-sucking skills, it shouldn’t be a problem.”
“She has a mate now, so she doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore. Except to him, I’m assuming. But if you think the Empress can be stopped from either joining Salebiri or just destroying us for the fun of it, then I strongly suggest you go with Keita. Because her plan is to wipe out the entire family, if necessary. And although she may never raise a sword or have her own battle cry . . . if she wants them dead, she’ll make sure they’re dead. Unless you can convince her otherwise.”
“This isn’t fair, Mum.”
“You didn’t want to listen to orders—from your queen, no less—but now you have one of your precious moral obligations to motivate you. That should make you feel better.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Too bad. As I’ve told you since hatching, Branwen . . . life’s rough for a Cadwaladr.”
“Daddy always said life doesn’t have to be that rough.”
“Your daddy lied.”
“Mum!”
* * *
“So what do you think, dear Aidan?” the queen asked about her sacred space, arms spread wide, her grin wider.
“It’s lovely, my lady. Very relaxing.”
“That’s what I wanted. A place I can come simply to relax. To think, to strategize without all the distractions I have to deal with in my court.”
“It seems perfect.”
“It is perfect,” she said, squeezing Aidan’s forearm. “Perfect and private. It’s the only place I can go and be assured the Zealot clergy can’t listen in or even hope to invade my sanctuary.” Arms raised again, the queen slowly turned. She was just so proud! Aidan couldn’t help but smile along with her.
“Only those I’ve chosen may come here, dear Aidan. And you are one of the . . . one of . . .”
Now scowling, the queen’s words trailed off, her angry crystal-blue eyes locked on what now walked toward them.
Her name was Brigida the Most Foul. It was once just Brigida the Foul, but the royal twins had renamed her some time ago and it had stuck.
The ancient She-dragon—who many felt should have died long ago merely from old age—was a Cadwaladr and, like Rhiannon, one of the rare white Dragonwitches.
She wore dark gray robes, the hood pulled onto her head but not quite covering her face. And that face! Aidan knew that old age was hard on everyone, but Brigida had clearly given up much more than most to maintain her life in this world and the mighty powers she possessed.
There were scars on top of scars on her face and neck. Even some gouges. What, exactly, had the dragoness fought in her search for power?
And then there were her eyes. One was a bright blue, seemingly untouched by age. But the other . . . a milky white and gray that seemed to possess a life of its own.
As Brigida limped past them, her walking staff slamming into the ground again and again as she moved, her blue eye stayed focused right in front of her, locked on exactly where she was headed. But the other eye . . . that one moved to each of them. Examining every being in Rhiannon’s sacred space.
Studying each—it seemed—for risk and threat. Were any a danger to her? And, if not, did they have a soul worth taking?
At least that’s how Aidan felt when that eye swiveled his way.
“Don’t mind me,” Brigida announced as she walked past a livid Rhiannon. “I needed to get somewhere fast, is all, and this was the quickest way.”
The queen suddenly jumped as Brigida passed behind her; blue eyes growing impossibly wide, she looked stunned, and he realized that Brigida had pinched Rhiannon’s ass.
“Good day to you all!” the old witch called out before opening another mystical doorway and disappearing through it.
“Locked up like a right fort, Mum,” Keita ruthlessly teased. Not even her mother’s glower stopped her from giggling in the angry She-dragon’s face.
“I should have smothered you at hatching,” the queen lashed back at her youngest daughter.
That’s when Aidan decided it was time to check on Branwen and her mother. Anything was better than getting caught in a fight between two royal females.
But before Aidan could make his escape, Keita was standing in front of him, blocking his way.
Flipping back her red hair, Keita sized him up like a side of meat, and nodded. “You’ll do.”
“I’ll do for what?”
“Aye,” the queen echoed. “He’ll do for what?”
“I need a bit of a favor, Mì-runach.”
“I don’t do favors.”
“Fine. It’s an order then. I need you to fuck my cousin.”
Aidan gawked at the princess for a moment before turning to his queen. That’s when they both laughed, and Rhiannon put her hand on Aidan’s shoulder.
“What’s so funny?” Keita snapped.
“Hard to say,” the queen replied. “There’s so much to choose from!”
“First off,” Aidan explained, “I don’t take orders from you. Only my queen. And second, it’s funny that you’d think I’d put my friendship with Branwen the Awful in jeopardy for you.”
“Don’t make me poison your food, Mì-runach.”
“You will do no such thing!” the queen warned. “You will not harm a hair on his golden, perfect head.
“Besides,” the queen went on, “why would you want someone—anyone—to do such a horrible thing to your own cousin?”
“I expect him to make it good for her!” As if that excused everything. “But I need her distracted.” Keita stepped closer to them, glancing back to make sure Brannie and Ghleanna were still caught up in their own conversation. “You know how Brannie is with her ridiculous moral ground.”
Aidan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Aye, such evil.”
“Shut up,” the princess growled at him, before returning her focus to her mother. “I’m merely trying to keep Brannie from getting in my way.”
“Then figure out another way,” the queen told Keita. “I will not have my dear Aidan’s heart broken because you can’t find another non-sexual or non-poisonous way to distract your cousin.”
Aidan blinked. “My heart?”
The queen patted his shoulder. “I’m saving you.” She leaned in and whispered, “She’s just like her mother, our Brannie is, and I don’t think you’d enjoy being one of many.”
“Wait . . . what?”
But before the queen could say more, Ghleanna returned with a clearly despondent but resigned Branwen behind her.
“It’s settled,” the general informed the queen.
“Good.” The queen stepped close to her niece. She raised her hand and gently pushed strands of black hair behind Brannie’s ear. “What you’re doing is more important than you realize, Branwen. And greatly appreciated.”
Brannie nodded, her gaze down. “We’ll take care of it”—Brannie lifted her head, dark eyes locking with Rhiannon’s—“my queen.”
Without another word, she walked off. But where she might be going, Aidan didn’t know. The queen still had to release them.
Brannie seemed to realize that after a minute. She stopped, swung her arm wildly at the air, and bellowed, “Would someone mind letting me the battle-fuck out of here?”
The queen leaned over and loudly whispered, “She’s also moody like her mother. . . .”