How to Drive a Dragon Crazy

“Take Rhi out of here!” she yelled over the rushing winds. “Find my house! I’ll meet you!”

“And what are you going to—Izzy!”

But it was too late. The crazed female charged over his head and dived off his snout like she was diving off a cliff into the ocean. He tried to grab her, but she flipped past him, and landed on Brannie, who’d come up under him. She grabbed hold of Brannie’s mane and held on until Brannie dropped a bit lower; then she let go.

Letting out a sigh—and suddenly understanding why Talaith worried about her eldest daughter all the time—Éibhear dived down. He saw Rhi just standing there. He knew even if he screamed at her to run, she’d continue to stand there. Unable to move. Unable to function.

Izzy landed in front of Rhi, her body in a crouch, her sword out. After a breath, she stood tall, her mother moving in beside her.

Knowing Izzy and Talaith could take care of themselves, he did what he’d just done to Izzy. Using his tail, he snatched his niece up and yanked her out of what was about to become a very dangerous situation.

He knew it was about to become dangerous because Annwyl the Bloody had just picked herself up off the ground, while Morfyd the White and The Northland Beast were coming out of the Great Hall and heading to the training ring.

Aye . . . dangerous indeed.

Chapter 22

Izzy stood by her mother, her head lowered, gaze locked on the three witches who stood across from them. Unlike the others near the training ring, the witches weren’t on the ground, trying to pick themselves up. Instead, they were standing tall, the witch named Odda had her hand raised, and Izzy sensed she’d surrounded herself and her comrades with some kind of protective wall. Talaith probably had done the same thing for the twins and Annwyl, the queen currently getting to her feet while Talan went to his sister’s side.

“Your daughter’s strength has grown, Nolwenn,” Odda said to Talaith, her fingers closing. She tightened her hand into a fist, her knuckles cracking. “She seems to have outgrown you, this place.”

“Mind your own, Kyvich,” Talaith shot back. “Or my daughter will be the least of your worries.”

“Really?” Odda asked, suddenly moving forward. “And what will you do, Nolwenn, when she’s unable to restrain her power and she kills someone you care about? Or destroys your little utopian kingdom here?” The witch stopped a few feet away from Talaith. “You know what has to be done. Just do it already.”

Izzy quickly cut between her mother and Odda, her sword out and ready, her body tense.

“Stay away from my sister.”

“Or what, General?” Odda asked, her smile smug. “What can you do to a Kyv—”

The witch’s words were cut off and Izzy stumbled back into her mother as a white claw slammed into the ground, smashing the witch into the earth.

Izzy looked up at the dragoness standing over her. Her grandmother smiled. “What did I miss? I sensed I was missing something!”

Rhiannon looked down at her claws. “Did I step in something? I feel like I stepped in something.”

Izzy covered her mouth with her free hand, desperately trying to stop the laughter and failing miserably at it.

Behind Rhiannon, Commander Ásta walked toward the training ring, the rest of the Kyvich falling in behind her. Rhiannon saw them and looked back at Izzy.

“My dearest Iseabail, do be a dear and check on your sister for us.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Izzy turned to her mother, winked. “Let me know when it’s safe to come back,” she said low; then she went off in search of Éibhear and her sister.

Rhiannon had been in a valley not far from Garbhán Isle, indulging in some grazing cattle, when she’d felt her granddaughter’s panic and anger, felt her Magicks growing beyond her slim body. She’d raced here, afraid of what she’d find. Afraid of what her granddaughter might have done. But looking around, Rhiannon saw that once again, they’d all gotten off easy. But how much longer would they?

Shaking her head and making a most annoying “tsking” sound, the Kyvich commander walked around the fence, her gaze on Rhiannon.

“This is a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

“Started by your people,” Rhiannon replied.

“Of course. And I do apologize.” She motioned to the two witches that had been with the one currently splattered across the bottom of Rhiannon’s claw, and dismissed them. Rhiannon knew she had landed on her, but she didn’t like that particular witch anyway. Hadn’t from the beginning.

“I think, Commander Ásta,” and that came from Dagmar on the other side of the fence beside Morfyd, “the time has come for us to reexamine our agreement. The twins are now eighteen and you aren’t protecting Rhianwen.”

“Very true, but—”

“So I think it’s time to end this,” Dagmar stated calmly. Her hands were folded primly in front of her, her steel-grey eyes focused on the commander. As always, Dagmar Reinholdt showed no fear, no doubt, no anger. She wasted no words and was unbelievably polite, but none of them were fooled. None of them ever would be. “You need not run out of here this very moment, of course. It’s been so many years, I’m sure you have ties, connections, you’ll need to address. But I think for all concerned . . .”

“Of course, Lady Dagmar. I understand. Perhaps we can talk before we move on.”

“Absolutely. We owe you and the Kyvich a great debt. We’ll not forget.”