Chapter Thirteen
Letting their horses go with Uther and Caswyn, Brannie and Aidan stayed in the line of trees surrounding the fort and waited.
They waited in the same position for hours. Even when it began to rain and they were soaked to the bone, they waited.
This was why Brannie had sent Keita off with Uther and Caswyn. Not just to keep her safe but because Brannie didn’t want to hear her complain the entire time that they needed to “move! Move now!”
As a Protector of the Throne—something that still had Brannie’s mind spasming every time she thought about it—Keita might have the patience necessary in every assassin, but knowing Ren might be trapped inside that fort, possibly being tortured . . .
No. It was best she was kept out of the middle of this for now. For her own good and the good of everyone else.
The downpour had stopped by the time Brannie saw what she’d expected all along . . . that this fort was very well protected.
For those unwilling to wait, it probably appeared as if the fort was undefended like many of the temples in the Southlands. But the Zealots weren’t like other god worshippers and this was no temple. It was a battle fort. Nothing more or less.
So, as Brannie patiently waited and watched, she finally saw the changing of the guard. Zealots seemed to appear out of shadow and mist to be replaced by comrades who, just as smoothly, disappeared into shadow and mist.
Once she was positive of where the guards were located, she looked at Aidan. He nodded and, still crouching, they began to move through the trees until they were across from the best spot to get inside.
Now it was their turn to move as if part of shadow and mist. A skill Brannie had been trained in when she was still clinging to her father’s tail. Her poor father. She’d loved creeping around and sneaking up on him when he was involved in his work, scaring the wits from him. In retrospect, it seemed cruel. Her father was as far from a warrior as one could get. But he’d always been a good sport about it.
“You’re like your uncles!” he’d exclaim, picking her up and tossing her high in the air, laughing at her hysterical giggles. “Always trying to find ways to scare the very life from me.”
But it was those early years of childish play that had trained her for this.
* * *
Aidan was glad Keita had insisted he accompany Brannie into the fort. He would have insisted if she hadn’t, but the order was better coming from her. That way Brannie could be annoyed with her cousin rather than him.
His need to go with Brannie wasn’t because he feared so greatly for her safety. Not at all. He just didn’t want her alone in a Zealot-run fort. He was sure there were priests and priestesses inside who could manage a rampaging dragoness if Brannie were forced to shift. And magick sometimes trumped just being a very large dragon. Especially when the dragon didn’t have any magickal skills of her own besides being able to shift.
But two dragons . . . ? Well, that was a bit more of a challenge for anyone.
As the pair stepped away from the tree line, the skies opened up once more and rain poured down on them. They glanced at each other and nodded.
Rain worked in their favor.
But as they began to move forward, lightning struck. That was more of a problem. A good bolt could light up the sky . . . and the land beneath, alerting the guards to their presence.
Brannie paused for maybe a half second before she took off running, keeping low. Perhaps they could outrun the lightning.
Aidan immediately followed after her.
Thunder exploded right over them and Brannie picked up speed. They slammed their backs against the fort wall just as a lightning strike snapped over their heads, lighting up the entire surrounding area.
Letting out a breath, they looked at each other again and, with a nod from Brannie, they split up. He went left, she went right.
The first guard he came to made the mistake of turning his head to muffle his cough. Aidan caught him from behind, wrapping his hand around the guard’s mouth and burying his dagger into the side of his neck. He dropped the body and moved to the next one.
Lightning hit at the same time Aidan arrived and the guard saw him. The man opened his mouth to warn his friends, but his words were lost in the thunder and rain. He tried again, but Aidan stopped him by slamming his dagger into his open mouth, pinning the human to the fort wall.
Aidan yanked out his blade and stepped over the body. His next few attacks went well and he met up with Brannie in under ten minutes.
And yet she still felt the need to complain, “Took you long enough, Mì-runach.”
Ignoring her comment, Aidan asked, “Do we storm the front gates, killing everyone in sight? Or sneak in silently, like my worthless brethren?”
Brannie actually thought on that a moment—he’d been kidding!—before she grudgingly replied, “Sneak.”
Then she sighed. As if such a suggestion was so beneath her.
Pushing her wet hair off her face, she motioned for him to follow her and then set off. They went halfway around the fort, finally stopping at a small door hidden behind a large bush.
Brannie pushed the door open and got on her knees. She leaned in, looking around before she signaled for him to, again, follow her.
With a deep breath, steeling himself, Aidan waited until Brannie’s adorable human ass disappeared inside. Then he went in after her.
* * *
The small door led them into a network of underground tunnels. A way in and out for Zealots who might need to escape.
Apparently all the Zealots were not ready to die for their precious one god.
When they got to a section of the tunnel that split in several ways, Brannie silently pointed in one direction for Aidan and she took the other. She knew he probably wanted to stick with her, but they were low on time and had a lot of ground to cover. Pretending to be her nursemaid would be a foolish move.
Brannie walked down the long hallway. Above her she could hear movement, some chanting. She assumed she was close to a center of worship.
The tunnel split off again and, as she briefly debated which way to go, she heard a shout of warning from above. Someone had found the bodies outside.
Another shout from behind her, though, had Brannie quickly moving to the left, her back flat against the stone wall. A few seconds later, Aidan ran by . . . and a squad of armed Zealots ran right after him.
She rolled her eyes. “Idiot.”
Brannie knew Aidan the Divine well enough to know—know!—that he’d allowed himself to be seen. Why? Probably to protect her. To distract the guards already searching the tunnels and fort for them.
Stepping out of the shadows, she started to follow Aidan but stopped short when she saw a door at the end of the hallway.
She gritted her teeth. Follow Aidan? Go to the door?
“Eh,” she said with a wave of her hand. “He’ll be fine.”
Brannie ran to the door and eased it open to find stone stairs. Closing the door behind her, she made her way down. As she neared the last step, she could hear chains . . . and sobbing.
A dungeon.
Just what she’d been looking for.
Brannie reached the last step and stopped, silently waiting for a guard to pass. Once he did, she moved up behind him and quickly cut his throat.
Footsteps came from behind and Brannie turned, throwing the blade. It slammed into the second guard’s head and he fell back. She retrieved the weapon and slid it into the sheath at her side.
Brannie checked for more guards, but didn’t see any, so she made her way down to a large open space. In the middle of the room were tables covered in chains, metal cuffs, and blood. Chains also hung from the ceilings. And on each wall Chramnesind’s sigil had been burned into the stone.
If the sigils were magickal, Brannie wouldn’t know until they destroyed her. But she didn’t deal with magicks. She left that to witches and other blessed folk. All warriors could do was hope for the best.
Brannie moved to the far wall and started down the long room. Not every cage had someone in it, but most did. So she studied each carefully in the hope of finding Ren.
She’d just reached the end of the first wall of cages when she heard, “Branwen the Awful?”
It was a female voice, so not Ren. But Brannie spun around, wondering who called to her.
Blinking, she rushed across the floor to the cages on the other side.
“Kachka?” She stopped in front of the cage and gawked at the three Riders inside. “What are you doing here?”
Kachka Shestakova of the Black Bear Riders of the Midnight Mountains of Despair in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains—and yes, that was her entire name—had come to the “decadent and corrupt” Southlands with her sister Elina Shestakova. They were true Daughters of the Steppes. Hearty, powerful women who thought men were beneath them, only good for sex and garbage removal. They were warriors and horsewomen known for breeding and raising small but remarkable horses that were great in battle and during long, cross-country rides.
The Daughters of the Steppes were nomads, moving their many tribes around the steppes and, when necessary, raiding Northland and Outerplains towns in search of boys to use for husbands. A term that Annwyl said should be changed to “slaves.”
Although the leader of the Daughters of the Steppes, the one they called the Anne Atli, had an alliance with Annwyl, her involvement in the war—and thereby the involvement of her people—had been limited to providing food, water, and horses when necessary. Otherwise, the Daughters of the Steppes had not raised a sword against any of the Zealots as long as they stayed away from their territories.
So, in the end, less of an alliance and more of a truce. The Riders didn’t strike the Zealots but they also didn’t strike Annwyl’s troops.
So why were these Daughters of the Steppes fighting for Annwyl in a small squad referred to as “The Scourge of gods”? Because these were the Riders no longer wanted by the tribes for varying reasons. Kachka and Elina had lost their positions because of their mother, a price Elina wore on her face every day with an eye socket that no longer held an eye. Kachka had defended Elina and that had put her outside the tribes as well. Now, both women had found dragons to keep them company. Brannie’s brother Celyn had fallen in love with Elina, and Kachka had managed to snag the very handsome Rebel King of the Quintilian Provinces, Gaius Lucius Domitus.
Even Brannie thought that was a coup. Gaius was an exceptionally gorgeous Iron dragon and, coincidentally, also missing an eye.
But even more impressive to Brannie was that Kachka hadn’t suddenly given up her life as a warrior once she’d made a king her mate. She hadn’t taken her place on a Quintilian throne to give orders behind the safety of a legion of guards. She had left that to Gaius’s twin sister, Agrippina, and continued to do what she’d done before. She took her orders from Annwyl or, if necessary, Dagmar. And she still took her squad of Rider Rejects—Gwenvael’s nickname for them—around the country, attacking Zealots where and when she could under the cover of darkness, leaving nothing but blood, death, and Zealot remains behind.
But there should be at least seven of the Rider Rejects, including a male, and she’d never thought that Riders would allow themselves to be taken alive.
“What are we doing here?” Kachka repeated, her elbow resting against the steel bars. She looked over her shoulder. “Yes, Zoya Kolesova, tell Celyn’s big-shouldered sister how we got here.”
“Still?” the giant Zoya Kolesova asked from the corner of the cage. “Still you blame me for this?”
“Yes!” Nina Chechneva, the actual witch of the group, shouted. “This is your fault, Zoya Kolesova! It will be your fault until the day you die. And on that day, I will wear red, dance on your still burning corpse, and sing the song of happiness!”
“Always so dramatic, unclean one,” Zoya lashed back.
“Shut up!”
Kachka looked at Brannie and drily asked, “Does that answer your question, Celyn’s sister?”
“Not really.”
* * *
Uther knew as soon as the rain started that Keita would begin to complain. So he found a very large tree with lots of protective leaves and got her situated before going off to find something to feed her. A hungry She-dragon could be annoying and dangerous. So he grabbed Caswyn and they went in search of something to feed on. Because it was raining, it was harder than usual to track something down, but they eventually caught a deer, killed it, and dragged it back to the tree where they’d left Keita.
Dropping the deer, Uther turned in a circle. “Where . . . where is she?
“If something happened to her . . .” He threw up his arms. “First Puddles and then Keita? Brannie will tear our bloody heads off!”
Uther looked at the ground, trying to find any tracks or signs of where Keita might have gone.
The heavy rain, however, had turned the ground into mud and the flashes of lightning weren’t helping. Sniffing the air was useless, especially since every time he raised his face, his nose filled with water.
Frustrated, they both started walking, still searching the ground, hoping to find something—anything—that would tell them where Keita had gone. They found a few tracks under the bigger trees, where the leaves offered some protection.
“Oh, no,” Caswyn said, barely audible above the harsh rain.
“What?” Uther demanded. “What is it?” Uther ran to his side, desperately pushing his wet hair off his face.
“I think she went there.”
Uther’s gaze followed where Caswyn was pointing. He’d been focused on the ground so hard, he hadn’t realized where they were heading.
He gawked at the fort and shook his head. “Brannie is definitely going to kill us.”
* * *
“They must have been tracking us for weeks, these pathetic fools.” Kachka let out a breath. “They waited until we separated. I sent the Khoruzhaya siblings, Marina Aleksandrovna and my cousin Tatyana Shestakova back to Garbhán Isle to protect the weak Northwoman until the Dragon Queen’s concubine—”
“I’m gonna warn you now that Uncle Bercelak is not going to like that nickname,” Brannie called over her shoulder. She was desperately searching for something that would get the cage open. There was no lock for Brannie to simply rip apart. Instead, the cage was welded shut on all sides. She could use her flame but that could put the Riders in danger of burning to death if the metal didn’t melt quickly enough.
“—and Annwyl’s armies destroy the Zealots.”
“Why did you three stay behind?” Brannie asked.
“To find Ren. But we were too late.”
Brannie froze and faced Kachka. “What?”
The Rider shrugged. “When they sealed us in here, he was in the cage right next to ours. We talked a bit but he was taken away by three guards. We heard screams . . . then nothing. Later they brought out his head.”
Brannie felt sick, but she forced herself past it. “They didn’t purify him?”
“Not that we saw.”
“Where is the head now?”
Kachka gestured to the cage. “Perhaps you do not see we are still behind bars.”
“Oh. Right. Right.” Shaking her head, she went back to the torture tables and looked at the weaponry hanging overhead. There had to be some way to get the damn cage open.
“How long ago was this?”
“Two weeks.”
Brannie stopped again. “You haven’t been out of that cage in two weeks?”
“Do you want to see bucket?”
“No, thank you.”
“They hope to starve us.”
“They haven’t fed you in all that time?”
“No food. No water.”
“Shouldn’t you be . . . weaker?”
“We are Daughters of Steppes. Some seasons on the plains are very good. Very plentiful. Others? We are lucky if we do not eat the weakest of our tribe.”
“Sometimes we do.” When Kachka, Nina, and Brannie all stared at Zoya, the giant Rider asked, “What? Only the Mountain Movers of the Lands of Pain in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains have ever eaten their weakest members?”
Nina glared directly at Brannie. “Get me the fuck out of here. I will spend not one more minute with this giant open sore!”
“I have saved your life, Nina Chechneva, the Unclaimed!”
“And I have saved yours, Zoya Kolesova! We owe each other nothing except disdain and hatred!”
Calmly Kachka motioned Brannie over with a wave of her hand. When Brannie stood in front of her, Kachka grabbed her throat and yanked her even closer.
“I will say this once to you, Celyn’s sister—”
“I have a name,” Brannie choked out.
“—get me out of here or burn everything down around me. Because I cannot listen to another moment of this ridiculous horse shit!”
* * *
Aidan had led the Zealots on a merry chase through the tunnels and eventually out of them but, sadly, he ended up trapped inside their main hall, Zealots surrounding him.
He didn’t know if he’d given Brannie enough time to find Ren but there was nothing he could do about that now. He had to get the two of them out of there.
Aidan was reaching for the sword at his side when he heard the screams of other Zealots moments before Uther and Caswyn came charging into the main hall, covered in blood, and in a complete panic.
“What are you doing?” he asked, trying not to laugh.
But it was hard. The Zealots were screaming and running in such a panic that he couldn’t help himself.
His laughter died, though, when Caswyn exploded with, “Keita’s gone!”
“Gone? Gone where?”
“We have no idea,” Uther explained while snapping a Zealot’s neck. “We went to get her something to eat and when we came back—”
“You left her?”
“Who knew she’d wander off?”
Aidan yanked his sword out of a Zealot’s gut. “Keita doesn’t wander anywhere. Don’t let her bare feet fool you. That dragoness always has a plan.”
He looked around, pointed at a door with his blood-covered sword. “There. The dungeon. Let’s get Brannie and get out of here.”
“What about Keita?”
“She’ll find us when she’s done.”
Caswyn yanked the spine out of a Zealot’s back before asking, wide-eyed, “When she’s done doing what?”
“Let’s not ask. Let’s just get Brannie.”
* * *
It didn’t matter that Keita couldn’t find Ren’s body. She knew her friend was gone. Dead. And that these people had killed him.
Standing among all those “purified” bodies, Keita closed her fist and raised her face to the sky. Rain poured down and mingled with her tears.
Tears for her friend.
She had more to do, but not before she got revenge for Ren, before she made these Zealots suffer.
And they would suffer....
* * *
“Move to the back,” Brannie ordered the Riders. “As far back as you can.”
Once the three women had gotten in place, Brannie went to the side of the cage and studied a spot she hoped would be easily melted by fire.
She also hoped that she wouldn’t burn any of the Riders when she unleashed her flame. Some dragons had amazing control of their flame. It was said the queen could use her flame like a whip. But that was the queen. When Brannie unleashed her flame, she could easily wipe out a small forest. Once she took out half a town. She’d felt really bad about that, too.
She’d warned the Riders of the risk, though, and they didn’t seem to care. Of course, they had a thing about dying . . . they weren’t afraid to. But she’d never hear the end of it from Celyn if she ended up accidentally killing Elina’s sister.
“Ready?” she asked.
“Just go already!” Kachka bellowed.
“All right. All right.”
Brannie let out a breath, focused on a spot, and opened her mouth—
“Brannie!”
Growling, she turned to see Aidan and the other two barreling into the dungeon. Aidan quickly came forward, while Caswyn and Uther slammed the double doors shut.
“We have a problem,” Aidan told her as soon as he was close enough.
“What did they do now?”
“It’s not their fault.”
“Don’t make excuses for them. Just tell me what’s going on.”
He swallowed. “Keita disappeared.”
Brannie felt a muscle in her neck twitch. “She was captured?”
“No.”
She took in a breath. “We need to get them out.” Brannie pointed at the bars. “I can try and melt them but—”
“Uther! Caswyn! Cage!”
The two lumbering oxen made their way over to the cage and Brannie tossed keys to Aidan. “Get as many out as you can.”
As soon as Aidan began the process, Brannie heard a horrible wrenching noise and turned in time to see Uther and Caswyn ripping apart the cage with only the help of their human hands.
Even the Riders were impressed. Well, all except Zoya.
“At least these two men have some skills.”
“Males,” Nina corrected.
“What?”
“They’re not men. They’re males. Dragons. Remember?”
Zoya stepped out of the open cage, eyeing the two males before loudly announcing, “Then I would expect more of them! Such weak dragons! Dragons!” she exclaimed, walking past the shocked—and hurt—pair.
“We could have left you in there, you know,” Uther reminded her.
“The great dragon captain would not have allowed that, would you, Branwen the Awful?”
“Well—”
“Exactly!” She pushed past Aidan and, with her bare hands, began prying open doors that, unlike hers, hadn’t been melted shut.
Aidan didn’t bother to argue with the Rider. He didn’t bother to argue with anyone really. Instead, he just made his way over to the other cages and worked with Kachka to release everyone else.
Nina Chechneva didn’t help anyone—as was her way—but instead stared at the sigil burned into the wall.
“Did you know that mark keeps you and your friends from shifting to dragon, Branwen the Awful?”
“What? Oh . . . no. I didn’t. But I hadn’t tried either.”
“You do not feel weak?”
“No.” She faced the strange and, frankly, unpleasant witch and added, “I’m sure we can still murder anyone in our way and burn the flesh from their bones for a tasty meal. You know, in case you were wondering.”
Dark, dark eyes studied Brannie but, after facing “Auntie” Brigida’s soulless stare on occasion, Brannie had learned not to show any fear to the magick wielders.
She flashed Nina a smile before giving her a hearty slap on her back. The witch stumbled forward, shocked, and Brannie announced, “But we’re all friends here, aren’t we, Nina Chechneva?”
“All friends!” Zoya agreed as she hustled the few weakened humans that were let out of their cages. “Some of these humans we may want to kill now. They are too weak to travel.”
“No, Zoya Kolesova,” Aidan said before Brannie had the chance. “We’ll not do that.”
“I do not listen to you, penis haver.”
“Then I’ll say it,” Brannie cut in, using her firmest captain voice. “We kill no one. If someone can’t travel out of this fort on their own, you can carry them on your strong Kolesova back.”
Zoya nodded. “All right.”
Aidan rolled his eyes, frustrated his words alone hadn’t bent Zoya to his will. But to Zoya Kolesova, a male was a male was a male. It didn’t matter if they were dragon or men or giant trolls. If they were male, they simply weren’t worth listening to.
And, honestly, Brannie enjoyed that part of Zoya. Her logic was pure, as was her unwillingness to change it.
“Oy!” Caswyn yelled out. “I found another way—”
The double doors Aidan and Uther had closed off burst open and armed Zealots flooded into the room, one of their eyeless priests leading the way.
When both eyes were missing, Brannie knew she was dealing with not only a slavering sycophant of Chramnesind, but a powerful priest. Apparently Chramnesind really liked his followers to slaver.
The weakened humans that had been trapped in these dungeons for days immediately panicked and moved as quickly as they could behind Branwen and the others.
“Going so soon?” the priest asked. “And we had so many plans for those who follow the Abominations and their whore mother.”
Brannie was already moving on the priest when Aidan grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She had no idea why he’d bothered. He’d never stopped her from killing one of the Zealot priests before.
But then she saw it. Easing into the room from the stairs.
Smoke.
Brannie’s nose twitched and she immediately knew this wasn’t some regular fire. The smoke was tainted with . . . something. She could smell it.
Then, the Zealots in the back of their group began to spasm. Eyes—those who had them—rolled back in the Zealots’ heads, saliva poured from their mouths, weapons dropped to the floor from paralyzed fingers.
“Keita,” Aidan said softly. And it was all she needed to hear.
“Move!” Brannie ordered the others. “Move!”
Those too weak were picked up by Zoya, Uther, and Caswyn. Caswyn led the way to a door in the walls he’d found. He pushed it open and went inside, the rest of them following.
Once Brannie stepped in, she turned to close the door firmly behind her, giving her a brief view of what was happening to the Zealots she was leaving behind.
Whatever poisonous smoke Keita had released into this place, it was not merely killing the Zealots. It was torturing them. Giving them the most violent, painful death any of them could imagine.
That’s how Brannie knew. She knew that Keita had somehow found out that her longtime friend was dead and that these Zealots were responsible.
Shutting the door, Brannie turned and charged up behind the others. She grabbed two of the slowest humans and began to run with them in her arms.
“Move!” she ordered again. “All of you, move!”
* * *
It took a little time, but they eventually found their way back to the door that they’d used to get in.
Once Aidan got the humans he was carrying out, he went back to help the others.
He assisted as many as he could until they were far enough away to drop to the ground.
The smoke had nearly caught up to them as they’d made their mad escape. Now, gasping and coughing, Aidan stretched out on the ground with the others under the pouring rain and looked back at the fort.
Most dragons would have burned it down to the ground and been done with it. But not Keita. There was no fire. Just smoke. Poisonous smoke.
And that poisonous smoke came out from behind every small window, from behind and under doors, from every crack in the foundation. It came out and curled up into the air.
And with it, he could hear the screams and cries of the suffering and slowly dying Zealots.
It wasn’t that Aidan was bothered by the deaths of their sworn enemies. Actually, that didn’t bother him at all. What did bother him however . . .
“Did you forget we were in there?” Brannie demanded of her cousin when she walked up to them.
Keita shrugged. “You were taking too long.”
Despite his need to cough up whatever was traveling through his lungs, Aidan still managed to jump up and grab hold of Brannie before she could throw herself at Keita.
“Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?” Brannie demanded. “We are here for you and this is how you treat us?”
With an eye roll, Keita walked off and Brannie tried to go after her, but Aidan kept his arms around her waist, holding her back.
“Let it go,” he suggested.
“Let it go? She could have killed us, too!”
“She lost Ren,” Uther said, helping some of the stronger humans up so they could assist the others. They wouldn’t be able to travel with the dragons. The humans would have to rely on each other.
“Yeah,” Caswyn tossed in. “How would you feel if it had been Iz?”
Brannie stopped fighting, but she clearly didn’t like what they were saying either because she rammed her elbow into Aidan’s collarbone, forcing him to release her.
“Ow! That hurt.”
“Good.”
Uther pointed. “You should talk to her.”
Brannie’s mouth dropped open at the suggestion. “Talk to her?”
“She’s your cousin.”
“So?”
“If this was Izzy—”
“Shut up!” Brannie closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “I hate all of you,” she complained before going after Keita.
* * *
Brannie grudgingly followed after her kin.
She felt her logic was sound. Keita had taken a stupid risk doing what she did and, as Cadwaladrs, conversation wasn’t necessary.
A good beating, however . . . that was more than warranted.
But the “nanny gang” seemed to think Brannie owed Keita some kind of consideration. And invoking Izzy every time they wanted her to do something....
It was just wrong!
Brannie’s relationship with Izzy was different from every other relationship she had. Unlike Brannie and Celyn, Brannie didn’t have random, morning fistfights with Izzy. They didn’t argue about who Mum and Da loved more. They didn’t argue about who was more stupid: Oxen or their brother Fal. They simply enjoyed each other’s company, whether sitting in Izzy’s tent drinking Uncle Bercelak’s ale or in the midst of battle.
Brannie and Keita, on the other hand, had little in common. They were blood relations but that was all.
So what could Brannie possibly say to the royal that would somehow connect them and make this bloody trip at least tolerable?
“I . . .” Brannie began, walking fast to keep up with Keita. “I . . . uh . . . heard that cousin Eugenie is sleeping with Duke Clemens.”
Keita got a few more feet before she stopped and, slowly, faced Brannie.
“What?”
Brannie cleared her throat. “Eugenie is sleeping with Duke Clemens.”
“He’s more than sixty winters. And her mother hates humans.”
“And he’s an old human. Eugenie’s mum is said to be beside herself with rage. Uncle Rhys doesn’t know how to handle it. His wife is that angry.”
“I don’t blame her,” Keita said, glancing off. “Eugenie’s a baby. Not even eighty yet.”
“Her brother says she’s an old soul.”
“She’s not an old soul. She’s a young soul that likes pissing off her mother. I should know . . .” She shrugged. “I’m the queen of Pissing-Off-Mother Land.”
Brannie chuckled but, after a few moments, she asked, “How did you know?” Keita raised her eyebrows. “About Ren.”
She held out her hand, revealing a gold medallion and chain in her palm.
“This was his. I found it among the bodies outside the fort.”
“So? He could have dropped—”
“It was sewn inside him.” She stroked her left side. “I and other Protectors have the same thing. The only way they could have gotten it—”
“Was to cut it out of him.”
“And he wouldn’t have let that happen unless he was already dead.”
“I’m sorry, Keita. I really am. I’ve always liked Ren so much. We all have.”
She closed her palm and placed her fist against her chest. “He fit in well among us. On both sides of the family. Amazing, since he was nothing like any of us.”
Keita’s head dropped and she stared at the ground. That’s when Brannie realized the rain had stopped. It was much quieter now, so they could hear the screams of the dying from the fort more clearly now.
“Look, Branwen . . .” Keita’s shoulders slumped a little under her wet cape. “I have to do things. When we get to the Eastlands. And I don’t have time to argue—”
“I know what you have to do. Mum told me.”
Keita lifted her gaze to Brannie’s. “And?”
“I have my orders, cousin. I’m with you on this. My feelings on it don’t matter. But I’d prefer you not forget the rest of us exist and kill us in the process. You know . . . accidentally.”
Keita gave a small smile. “I’ll do my best. Oh!” she suddenly exclaimed, looking back in the direction of the fort. “We should really get everyone away from there.”
Brannie briefly closed her eyes. “You’re poisoning the air, aren’t you?”
“A little.”
With a growl, Brannie ran back toward the others as Keita yelled after her, “It won’t last or anything, but . . . you know . . . for now . . . best to err on the side of caution . . . to avoid death.”