by G. A. Aiken
Brastias spurred his horse forward and rode over to the still-arguing females.
“Morfyd?” the human called up to his mate, not seeming intimidated by her much-larger dragon form. “Love? Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Yes! Rescue me from this ungrateful wench!”
Morfyd stomped away and Annwyl flicked her middle and forefinger in his sister’s direction before she went back to the rather mindless task of finishing off the enemy soldiers who were already dying but hadn’t quite crossed over yet. She used a spear and was efficient in ending the men, severing the spine from the head. Probably taught to her by Ghleanna.
Fearghus watched his mate a moment longer. It had been five years since he last saw her. Five years since he last touched her, kissed her, fucked her, saw her smile, told her to calm down, yanked a weapon from her hands before she hurt someone, or stopped her from getting in a pit brawl with her own daughter. It had been too long since he’d done all that and it was a bit overwhelming to be here now, so close to her after all this time.
Annwyl slammed her spear into another Sovereign, then leaned against it, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and looking out over all the bodies she and her troops had left behind.
She looked rather proud.
Deciding he could wait no longer, Fearghus walked toward her, his claws stepping on corpses but he didn’t really care. Most of them were the enemy anyway.
When he was close, he said, “Annwyl.”
Her whole body tensed and, slowly, she faced him. He saw the new scar that cut across her entire face. He found it disturbingly sexy and couldn’t wait until they were alone and he could lick the damn thing from one end to the other. Yet Annwyl gazed at him for so long, Fearghus became concerned. Why hadn’t she said anything?
But then, suddenly, Annwyl the Bloody burst into tears. Not simple crying, but full-on sobs. Sobs so hard they racked her entire body, dropping her to her knees, her hand still clinging to that spear.
Fearghus shifted and went to her. He reached down and lifted her to her feet, removed the spear from her hands and tossed it aside.
He pulled her into his arms and held her. She clung to him, her arms around his waist, her head against his chest, her tears dripping down his body to mingle with the blood on the battlefield.
As they held each other, there in the middle of all that carnage, Fearghus whispered, “I missed you too, Annwyl.”
“King Gaius?”
Gaius pushed one of his uncle’s soldiers off his sword and faced the dragon behind him.
“Ragnar of the Olgeirsson Horde. Brother to Vigholf.”
“Yes. Vigholf helped save my sister,” Gaius admitted. “I owe him and the others much. Is that why you’re here, Lightning? Payment?”
“No. But how much were you thinking?”
Gaius stared at him until the Northlander smiled. “I’m kidding. I’m actually here to talk alliance. Thracius is dead, but his direct bloodline lives on.”
“Like my cousin Vateria, you mean?”
“Do you think she’s a real threat?”
“Although she may not be as schooled in military strategy as her father—she’s a serious threat.”
“Then let’s talk.”
“Fine. But I can’t stay long. My sister is alone and although it took us seconds to get here, we have a long way to travel back.”
“Seconds? How did you get here?”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“The gods sent you?” the Northlander asked.
“Oh . . . so not that complicated.”
“Not to us, no.”
Vigholf found Rhona sitting on the ground, her back against a tree. She drank from her water flask and tried to wipe blood off her chin with a dirty cloth.
“Why did your mother just call me a manipulative bastard?” he asked.
“Because you are?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why did your mother—”
“Oh, ignore her.” She patted the ground beside her. “Sit with me. Things are just about to get interesting.”
He sat down, moving in so his hip pressed into hers. “Interesting how?”
“You’ll see.”
“Where’s Éibhear?”
“Off. Not willing to talk to anyone.” She shook her head—Vigholf sensed a little sadness and a little awe in that one move. “When he finally snapped, he really snapped.”
“He’ll be all right,” Vigholf assured her. “Just give him some time.”
“I don’t know. He seems truly devastated about Austell.”
“We’ve all lost comrades in battle, Rhona. And we all handle it. He will, too. He’s just young. It will take him some time. And the last thing he needs is more females babying him.”
“I’m one female who has never babied Éibhear. I’m here to keep him alive, not be his mother.” She patted his thigh. “Oh! It’s about to start.”
“What? What’s about to start?”
Ragnar was standing not ten feet away, talking to Gaius. It was easy to see his brother was making another ally. He was good with that.
But stalking up to Ragnar and Gaius, looking quite unhappy was Briec. Izzy was behind him, trying her best to calm him down, but it didn’t seem to be working.
“Is this about Gaius?” he asked Rhona.
“No. Not at all.” She offered him some dried beef and kept watching.
When Briec reached Ragnar and Gaius, he shoved Ragnar. “You smarmy bastard! No wonder my sister picked you for her mate!”
Vigholf winced. “Guess he found out about the Tribesmen attack on Garbhán Isle.”
“And you would be guessing correctly.”
“You told him, didn’t you? About everything.”
“He demanded a full report—I gave him one.”
“But, Rhona—”
“He outranks me,” she argued. “I have to follow orders.”
Vigholf took a moment to eye the She-dragon. “Centaur shit, you vindictive harpy.”
“After sending us off with Keita, involving us in one of her insane schemes—your brother deserves every bit of this.”
“Your cold, inflexible heart makes me burn to be inside you.”
“Charmer.”
He laughed until he saw Fearghus and Annwyl walking up to Briec and the others, Gwenvael behind them.
“What’s going on?” Fearghus asked his brother.
“Garbhán Isle has been under attack for days by Tribesmen. Days! And this idiot knew and he said nothing!”
“Does this mean we’re going home?” Gwenvael asked, sounding eager.
Annwyl flinched and, after looking at Vigholf and Rhona, eased behind her mate’s back. She’d known about the attack since they were at the Sovereign camp and yet she’d decided to go on and get Gaius. But she’d been right. They’d needed Gaius and his soldiers or they would have been overrun by Thracius’s troops. Of course, they all thought Gaius was there to kill Thracius himself . . . but that job turned out to be Éibhear’s.
“How could you not tell us?” Fearghus demanded.
“So we’re going home, yeah?” Gwenvael pushed.
“Look,” Ragnar began, “Keita thought—”
“When exactly did our sister start thinking?” Briec shoved Ragnar again. “And when did you start listening, you twat?”
“If you push me again—”
“You’ll what, barbarian? What exactly will you do?”
Rhona yawned and rested her head on Vigholf’s shoulder. “I was hoping to get some sleep, but it seems like we’ll be heading back to Dark Plains tonight.”
“I think you’re right.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“I’m in love with you, Rhona. Wherever you go, I’m with you.”
She raised her head, looked him in the eye, and smiled. It was the sweetest smile he’d seen in a very long time.
“And what are you two doing?” Briec snarled at them.
“Oy!” Rhona ye
lled back. “Back off, royal! I’m off duty!”
Gwenvael jumped between them. “Home!” he yelled. “We’re all going home! Now! So let’s make that happen. Right now! Everyone, move . . . move!”
Briec, Ragnar, and Fearghus backed away from their brother while Gwenvael walked off, ordering the troops to get ready to move out.
“Gwenvael really wants to go home,” Vigholf observed.
“My cousin hasn’t fucked a female since the last time he saw his mate. And that was what? Three years ago? No sex for Gwenvael is like no food. The dragon’s starving and all he wants is his steak.”
“Speaking of which,” Vigholf glanced around. “While everyone is breaking camp, maybe you and I can find a quiet place to—”
“Why aren’t you two moving?” Gwenvael screamed at them. “Move, damn you! Move!”
Laughing, Rhona got up and brushed the dirt off. “Let’s go before my cousin’s mind explodes. Besides, you need to think of what you’re going to tell Daddy when we get back to Garbhán Isle.”
“Tell him? Why do I have to tell your father—with the enormously large arms, expert skill with all weapons, and the ability to spray me with lava—anything?”
“Because you love me and Daddy loves me. So you better find a way to keep him from pulling your head right off your body.”
Vigholf stood. “All right. I will. But at least make it worth it for me, Rhona.”
“Make it worth it?”
“Don’t tease, female. Tell me you love me.”
“I’ll do better than that. I told me mum I love you. My mother. Bradana the Mutilator who has the horns of several Lightnings decorating her armor.”
He grinned and they headed toward the troops to help those leaving with them in the next few hours get ready. “And what did she say to you?” Because he already knew what Bradana had to say to him.
“I don’t really know.”
“So you ran away.”
“Not at all. I walked away . . . with purpose.”
“Oh, well . . . that makes all the difference.”
Chapter 36
“They’re getting ready to strike,” Rhiannon called out to the weak little humans. “Everyone inside. Quickly now.” She had no idea she’d enjoy being helpful. But she did! She felt like a mother hen.
People were rushing into the castle for safety, but Talaith and Ebba ran out.
“What are you two doing out here? The Tribesmen are right outside. They’re about to strike.”
“The children,” Ebba said. “The children are missing.”
Rhiannon immediately sent a call out to Bercelak, who was with his kin, preparing an ambush from behind the advancing Tribesmen. “Where the hell are the Kyvich?” she demanded.
“Searching the castle, but Talaith and I don’t think the children are inside.”
“Wait.” Rhiannon closed her eyes. “Let me search for them.”
“Ladies,” Dagmar called from the top of the castle walls. “I think all of you better come up here.”
Talaith and Ebba ran up the stairs, pushing past soldiers and guards. Rhiannon quickly followed, but everyone moved out of her way. Together the four females stood at the rails and looked out over the Tribesmen army that stood no more than several hundred feet from their door. Rhiannon didn’t count to see how many were left, but it was at least a legion’s worth, she’d guess.
“Look below,” Dagmar said.
The three of them leaned over the railing and down into the land right outside the castle walls. That’s where her three grandchildren stood.
Talaith tried to jump over the railing to fetch the children, but Ebba and Dagmar caught her in time and held her.
“How the hells did they even get out there?” Talaith demanded. “They were standing right next to us!”
“I’ll go,” Ebba said. “I’ll get the children.”
Rhiannon grabbed Ebba’s arm. “No.”
“What are you doing?” Talaith nearly screamed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“If we move,” she told them, “they’ll kill them all.”
The lieutenant and his commander stared at the three children. None of them saw when they arrived. One second there was nothing and the next . . .
But that was no matter to them. They all knew who the three children were. They were the ones everyone had been talking about. The one his tribe’s priestess had described as a little one with brown skin and two others who were a male and female with unholy eyes. His tribe’s priestess said to look for “The Three,” as she had called them.
“Do we kill them, commander?” the lieutenant asked, because he knew that once the children were dead, they could all go home.
“Yes.”
Nodding, the lieutenant motioned for the troops to ready their bows.
“No!” some woman on the castle walls screamed at them while the gates opened. He could hear the demon horses of those damn witches. They were coming out here, they would try to stop them. That’s why his commander wasn’t going to try to grab the children and perform a ritual killing later. Too much bother. So instead they’d kill them with enough arrows to destroy an entire army.
The commander, always enjoying giving these kinds of orders himself, raised his hand to give the signal that would tell the soldiers to unleash their arrows.
And that’s when the smallest girl, the brown one, said into the anticipating quiet, “Daddy’s home.”
The commander looked at him, but before he could say a word, give an order, the large silver dragon dropped behind the girl, the ground beneath them all shaking. The dragon picked the child up in his claw and lifted her so that she rested by his neck, his talons holding her gently.
“See?” the little girl said. “Daddy’s home.”
“Commander?” the lieutenant prompted in the brief moment that followed. They’d been dealing with vengeful dragons for days. What was one more?
But there was more than one, dropping from the sky. Hundreds of them. Dragons of all colors and sizes. They’d already been in one battle it seemed, many of them still with healing wounds, broken limbs. Yet he could tell from their expressions they were more than ready for another fight.
“Commander?” the lieutenant pushed again.
“On my command, send in—” Something landed behind the commander on his horse, sword blades flashed and collided at the center of the commander’s neck, his head popping off, falling to the ground, and sadly rolling a few feet away.
The woman pushed the dying commander’s body off the horse and settled in to the empty spot.
“Hello, lads,” the woman said. “Name’s Annwyl.”
Then she smiled, and the lieutenant knew he’d not live to see the end of this day.
Talaith ran down the stairs and into the courtyard. She watched with relief and something she was almost afraid to term actual joy as Briec the Mighty stomped his way through the gates, their youngest daughter happily riding on her father’s neck.
The silver dragon stopped when he saw Talaith, the pair peering at each other. Talaith saw it, felt it, knew her mate was experiencing the same thing. That overwhelming flood of love and connection—and neither was ready for any of that sort of thing!
Using his tail to pull his daughter around and into his claws, the dragon snarled, “Explain to me why my perfect, perfect daughter was out there.” He held Rhian out for Talaith to see. “Unsafe!”
Talaith snatched her daughter away from the monster she loved, quickly stepping away from the flames that came with his shifting, and growled back, “If you don’t stop calling her that!”
“Don’t chirp at me, woman!”
“Chirp? Chirp?”
“You put my perfect, perfect daughter at risk!” He pulled on leggings and boots handed to him by one of the servants and yanked Rhian back to him. “What exactly have you been doing here? Letting her run wild? Like a banshee!”
“I’ll have you know—”
Izzy ran in through the gate
. “Morning, Mum!” she cheered while running past and over to Sulien the Blacksmith. Without saying a word, he seemed to know what she needed, tossing her an extremely large battle-ax. “Thanks, Uncle Sulien!”
“Welcome, Izzy!”
“Iseabail!” Talaith called after her.
“I’ll be back in a bit, Mum!” Then she was gone.
“Damn that girl!”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“No!” Talaith snapped, yanking her hysterically laughing youngest daughter back into her arms. “I’m not! I can’t believe I spent even a moment of my time missing you!”
“I missed you too, you difficult, demanding female!”
“Difficult? I can show you difficult!”
“You do that with every breath you take!”
Fearghus entered the courtyard, not surprised to see his brother arguing with Talaith. He rolled his eyes, not in the mood to deal with any of that.
His mother, in human form, walked toward him, smiling.
“Fearghus.”
“Mother.”
“I’m so glad you’re well.” And he knew she meant it. He was so glad to be home.
“Well enough.” He motioned to the children with a tilt of his head. “Take them, would you?”
Once his mother had Talan and Talwyn, he shifted and put on leggings, then some boots. He kissed his mother on the cheek.
“Should I ask,” he murmured, “how they managed to get outside?” He knew well that the ones left to watch over the children would never have purposely let them wander around on their own during a siege.
“I have an idea, but . . .”
He waved that away, sensing it wouldn’t be an easy answer. “Can it wait?” he asked.
“I’d prefer it did. They’re fine. That’s all that matters.”
“Good. We need to talk about something else,” he said.
“What?”
“Éibhear.”
Rhiannon tensed. “He’s—”
“Perfectly healthy. But we should still talk.”
“Of course.” She motioned to Ebba, and the centaur trotted over, the children immediately leaping from their grandmother’s arms to Ebba’s back.