How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

Éibhear had never seen anything like it, but he didn’t have time to analyze any of that because Izzy had been standing there two seconds before.

Pushing off from the building, Éibhear unfurled his wings and raced around the damaged building.

“Izzy!” he bellowed. “Izzy! Answer me!”

“I’m here!” She stood, appearing from behind a large boulder. He’d forgotten how fast Izzy could move, but he was grateful for it.

He landed beside her, the land shaking.

“Are you all right?”

Tears streamed down her face and she shook her head. “Macsen.”

The dog? She was sobbing over that dog.

She pointed to the smoldering remains of melted stone and seared wood beams. “He was standing over there,” she said around sobs. “I thought he was right beside me.”

Éibhear discreetly sniffed the air and, aye. He smelled burnt dog fur. Best not to say that, though.

“I’m sorry, Izzy. I know he meant a lot to you, but we have other things to worry about—”

“Macsen!”

Éibhear blinked and watched Izzy push past him and over to a pile of still burning debris. And dragging himself out from under that debris came Izzy’s dog. With his dirty, matted fur burning in some spots, the big beast stumbled away from the debris and toward Izzy. But he suddenly stopped, dropped, and rolled around in the dirt for a bit. When Izzy reached him, the fire on his body was out and with a good shake, all that dirt went flying, making Izzy laugh. Then she dropped to her knees and hugged that disgusting, bizarre beast.

“You poor thing! Are you all right?”

“Izzy!” Éibhear snapped. “We have much bigger concerns than your gods-damn devil dog!”

“Iseabail?” another voice asked and Éibhear saw one of the riders standing at what was left of the corner of the building. It was a voice Éibhear didn’t recognize.

The rider pulled the hood of his cloak back, long, dark silver hair spilling out, and . . . an eye patch. The dragon wore an eye patch.

Izzy looked up from that slobbering beast who didn’t seem to be hurt at all after being on fire and crushed under all that debris, and her smile was so wide and bright that Éibhear just assumed it was because she was happy her dog was safe. But then she released the dog and charged over to the one-eyed dragon, launching herself into his arms.

“Gaius!” she crowed. And that’s when Éibhear knew that this was Gaius Lucius Domitus—the Rebel King of the Quintilian Provinces. An Iron dragon descended from the enemies of the Southland dragons and the bastard who liked to send books with strange notes to Izzy. A dragon Iseabail the Dangerous was currently hugging.

Bugger.

“What are you doing here?” Izzy asked as she stepped back. It had been years since Izzy saw Gaius last, but that had never mattered. Their friendship had been forged in the blood-filled ending of the Quintilian Overlord Thracius. Since that time, Gaius had worked to take full rule over the Quintilian Provinces, but Thracius’s daughter and a son or two still lived and still caused problems. Great problems. And there were many who felt any of Thracius’s offspring were the rightful heirs to the throne. If that meant getting rid of Gaius, they’d be more than happy to make that happen.

Which told Izzy that whatever was going on was important because Gaius didn’t usually leave the Provinces for any length of time. He could rarely afford to.

“I was hoping to get an audience with Queen Annwyl and Queen Rhiannon, if possible, and I knew Lord Bram could help us with that. We sent word to his assistant, Robert, yesterday. He met us in town last night and we discussed our concerns with him first. He led us back here today to stay until Bram’s return, but when he saw the gate closed—which he was sure he’d left open—we had him wait down the road while we checked everything out.” He smiled. “I must admit, I’m glad it was just you. It’s not like I have one of my legions at the ready.”

Izzy gave a short shake of her head. “I don’t understand, Gaius. Why didn’t you send an emissary rather than coming yourself?”

“Oh . . . we did. But we sent him directly to Garbhán Isle and apparently Annwyl felt he was lying about who he was and, uh . . .”

Izzy held up her hand, not needing to hear anymore. “You weren’t close to your emissary, were you?”

“No. Varro”—the King’s human general and friend—“was wise enough to send a messenger no one really liked. So when that head came back to us . . . we chalked it up to a lesson learned.”

Izzy cringed and nodded. “Understood.” She patted his shoulder. “Actually, this works out well. Uncle Bram is with Annwyl and Rhiannon now. I can escort you to Garbhán Isle myself.”

“I’d really appreciate it. Losing my eye was one thing, losing my whole head . . . that would be more problematic.”

Laughing, Izzy gave Gaius another quick hug. “Let me get my things together and then we can head out.”

“That sounds fine but, uh . . .” His words drifted off and his gaze focused behind her.

“Someone you know?” Gaius asked.

Izzy looked over her shoulder and she saw that Éibhear had shifted to human and now stood behind her. Naked.

Yes. Very subtle.

“This is . . . my uncle”—and the glower she got for that was priceless—“Queen Rhiannon’s youngest son.”