How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

Rhi tried to stop her aunt. Tried to hold her back. But there was no holding back Annwyl the Bloody when she was on a tear. When she was angry. And with every step she took toward the training ring, her anger grew . . . and grew.

“Please, Auntie Annwyl, let me talk to Talwyn. Please.”

But it wasn’t Talwyn that Annwyl wanted. No. Rhi’s aunt would rather blame the witches than her daughter. The tension between the Southland queen and the Ice Land witches had been growing steadily, day by day, since Talwyn was a child.

And talking was really not what Annwyl was about. She left talking to Auntie Morfyd and Dagmar. Annwyl was a queen of action—brutal, violent, deadly action—and Rhi doubted that would ever change.

It definitely wouldn’t change in the next five seconds.

Annwyl stalked up to the training ring, went through the open gate and over to the three witches busy talking to Talwyn. Something that they could have done at any time, so Rhi wasn’t clear why this casual-looking conversation couldn’t have waited until after their picnic. Something she was sure her aunt had already noted.

Talwyn! Her cousin looked up, green eyes narrowing, when Rhi screeched in her head.

What’s going on? Talwyn demanded.

What do you think?

Bloody balls.

Well, don’t just stand there! Rhi snapped in her cousin’s head. Do something.

But when Talwyn averted her eyes, Rhi knew that her cousin wouldn’t be doing anything to stop this. Nothing!

Rhi began to panic, but she was also angry. Angry that her cousin was letting this happen without lifting a finger. And Rhi’s panic and anger together were not a good thing. And realizing that made her panic even more.

Auntie Annwyl walked up to them; her body looked relaxed even though Rhi knew it was not. She could see the rage and fear coming off her aunt in big gushing waves.

“Can we help you, m’lady?” one of the witches asked. Her name was Odda. She smiled a lot, but Rhi avoided her because that smile was a lie. She tried to hide it, but she was mean and didn’t like being here. She especially didn’t like Auntie Annwyl.

“No,” Annwyl said. She motioned to Talwyn. “Let’s go.”

Odda gave that smile. “I’m so sorry, m’lady, but Commander Ásta has asked us to work with Talwyn today. So she’ll have to miss your little picnic, I’m afraid.”

“Are you under some impression I’m asking your permission? For anything? On my territory?” She motioned again to Talwyn. “Move. Now.”

Talwyn took a step, but Odda held up a finger and to Rhi’s shock, her cousin stopped. Instantly, without question. When had she started doing that? Following orders? From anyone? She never followed orders. Even sane, logical ones. Not ever!

“Perhaps another time, my lady. But today . . . I do have my orders.”

It all happened so fast, Rhi didn’t see anything until blood splattered across the front of her pretty dress. That’s when she saw the blood-soaked dagger in Annwyl’s hand and the brutal slash across the left side of Odda’s face. It traveled from just beside her eye, across her cheek, and out the corner of her mouth. Blood poured down her jaw and onto her shoulder and chest.

The witch’s blue eyes darkened and her fingers curled into fists as Annwyl stepped in close and said, “I know your lot can fix that, so in a day or two it’ll be nothing but a faint memory. But get between me and mine again—and the next cut will be something you can’t fix. Understand me?”

The pair had their gazes locked, but Rhi watched as more Kyvich suddenly appeared. They knew when their sister witches had been harmed or were in danger, and they protected their own, the way Annwyl protected hers. So Rhi’s body began to shake when she saw those Kyvich come from the stables, from the blacksmith, from their quarters.

An arm went around her and Rhi looked up at Talan.

“Aye, my lady,” Odda answered Annwyl. “I understand.”

Then the witch backhanded Annwyl, sending her flying across the ring and into—and through—the wood fencing.

They were moving down the road toward Garbhán Isle at a good clip when Izzy saw her mother not far ahead.

“Mum!”

Talaith turned and waved. “Hello!”

Izzy rode her horse to her mother’s side. “Hello, Mum.”

Her mother stepped closer, placed her hand on her booted foot. “Feel better?” she asked low.

“Uh . . .”

She knew what her mother was talking about and to be honest, she hadn’t thought about it much once the f**k festival began between her and Éibhear. But she wasn’t about to say that to her mum. Not now. Not ever.

“We should talk more,” Izzy said instead. “I still have many concerns.”

“I know. I know. So do I. Perfect timing, though. I was heading back to the castle. We’re having a picnic.” Talaith glanced back. “Oh. You brought company.”

“Aye. Gaius Domitus.”

“The Rebel King? He’s here?”

“With his sister. He came to see Uncle Bram. He wants an audience with Annwyl and Rhiannon.”

“Gods. This can’t be good.” Talaith held her hand out to her daughter. “I’ll ride with you. I’m sure Annwyl’s at the—”

Talaith’s words stopped abruptly and her gaze focused on the other side of Izzy’s horse. Izzy looked over at the forest but didn’t see anything.

“Mum?”