What a Dragon Should Know

Gwenvael woke up naked on the floor and he wasn’t sure how he got there. He distantly remembered laughter and the bellowed, “Must you embarrass me?” but that could have happened moments ago or twenty years ago. Gods knew it wouldn’t have been the first time that question had been tossed at him. In his opinion, everyone was too easily embarrassed. If one feared embarrassment, they feared living.

He washed up in the basin, pulled on his brown leggings and boots, and walked out to the main cavern. But he stopped as soon as he stepped inside the alcove with the dining table and stared at his kin. They’d made themselves quite comfortable in Fearghus’s den, which his brother would not appreciate one bit.

Ghleanna played with one babe, the girl, holding her high over her head and making unattractive silly faces, while Addolgar held the boy, bragging that, “he already snarls just like his grandfather.”

And Dagmar was nowhere to be seen.

As Gwenvael stood there, dazed, Fearghus came out of another tunnel and walked up to him.

“Why are they all here?” Fearghus asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How do I get them to go away?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if I ‘shoo’ them?”

“They’re like crows. They’ll just come back.”

“Dammit.” Fearghus’s gaze searched the room. “And where’s Annwyl?”

As if summoned, she appeared from another corridor. “Found it.” She held the still blood-covered Minotaur blade up. Gwenvael had no doubt it would one day be mounted on a wall either here or at Garbhán Isle. “Nice, huh?” she said to Fal, who stood at the other end of the alcove.

He held his hands out. “Let me see.”

And that’s when Annwyl threw it. Across the room, past their aunt holding one twin and their uncle, holding the other. Fearghus made a strangled noise of panic and Gwenvael went to dive for the weapon, especially when he saw his newborn niece reach for the bloody thing.

But before either brother could do anything, Fal snatched the blade from the air. He weighed it with his hands. “It’s a nice one, all right.”

“Told you. I think I’m going to mount it over my throne.”

Panting, Fearghus looked at Gwenvael and he could only shrug.

“It’s going to be a long eighteen years, isn’t it, brother?”

Gwenvael patted Fearghus’s shoulder. “Aye, brother. It is.”

Lightnings! In the Southlands! Izzy had never been so excited. She nearly couldn’t eat her morning meal. But, she thought as she reached for another loaf of bread and the servants gave her another helping of porridge, no use in passing out from hunger at the Lightning’s feet.

That would definitely be embarrassing.

According to her grandmother, the Lightning would be coming this morning, and Izzy was putting off going flying with Branwen and Celyn just so she could meet him.

Purple! His hair would be purple!

She looked across the table at Éibhear. His hair was blue. A deep, dark, gorgeous blue. No, she doubted this Lightning would have hair as pretty as Éibhear’s, but she still had to see purple hair.

What a perfect morning this was turning out to be! Her queen was alive and well, the queen’s twins the same, and most of her family around her. “Most” because Annwyl and Fearghus were still at Fearghus’s den. So were most of the Cadwaladr Clan who wanted to see for themselves the twins were all right. Clearly they weren’t used to the darker side of Annwyl. But Izzy knew her queen would never harm her babes. Ever.

Also missing were Gwenvael and his Dagmar. She wondered if her uncle knew he was madly in love with that politician, as Briec called her. She doubted it. Males could be so stupid about that.

Again, she looked across the table at Éibhear. He seemed to be completely absorbed in the discussion between his parents and siblings, until he suddenly looked at her and crossed his eyes.

Trying not to laugh out loud, she put her head down only to have it snap back up again when her mother stormed into the Great Hall.

When Talaith left an hour earlier to “get some shopping done,” she was in high spirits with the knowledge that all she loved were safe. But Izzy knew her mother well now and could easily tell that something had upset her. The question was what?

Briec watched his mate storm in, his usually bored expression turning concerned. “Talaith?”

Talaith ignored him and kept coming—right over to Izzy. Latching on to Izzy’s arm, Talaith yanked her right out of her chair. “Mum!”

Without saying a word, Talaith grabbed hold of the left sleeve of Izzy’s shirt and yanked it off her shoulder. Her mother snarled at the bandage she saw there. A bandage Izzy had worn every day for the last few months.

Knowing what her mother was about to do, Izzy begged. “Mum … please.”

Her mother tore off the bandage, exposing the marked skin underneath.

“You stupid—”

“Mum!”

“—stupid girl!”

Now all her kin stood around her. All except Éibhear. He’d already known what Izzy had been hiding from everyone else. Had known from nearly the beginning, but she knew he hadn’t told her mother. She knew he’d never betray her that way. Not when he’d promised.

But someone had told Talaith.

“What the bloody hell is that?” her father demanded.

“Gods, Izzy. What have you done?” Morfyd asked, her voice more concerned than angry.