“Oh stop, Branwen. I killed these people because they had to die.”
“Because you were bored? Or do voices tell you things? Evil things?”
Keita rolled her eyes . . . again, dramatically.
“For the love of the gods,” Keita sighed. “They were transporting gold that would then be shipped to Duke Salebiri so he could hire more troops.”
“He hires troops?”
“They’re not all Zealots, cousin. Anyway, I was traveling with them, to see if my information was correct, and it was. So I poisoned the pond water and there you go.”
“And there you go?” Brannie barked. “What if someone else drinks it? We almost drank it! We were going to give the water to Caswyn and Uther, too!”
“Who knew you idiots were roaming around here?”
“That’s not the point.”
“The poison I used has a very short lifespan and with the fresh water coming in from that waterfall, everything should be fine in a . . . week or two.”
“Week or two?”
“I had to make sure they were dead.”
Brannie briefly closed her eyes and Aidan winced. He knew she was getting angrier by the second.
Finally she asked, “Why aren’t you safe back in Devenallt Mountain, cousin? Or, even better, with your bloody mate in the Northlands?”
Keita raised a finger. “First, I see I need to remind you, again, that I am unmarked by any male. I have no mate.”
“You’ve had twelve of his offspring. Twelve! How can you not be Ragnar the Cunning’s mate?”
“I don’t have to explain myself to you, child.”
“I am not a child anymore, Keita.”
“Well, you never were,” Aidan pointed out.
Brannie glared at him.
“Because you’re dragon,” he explained, which got him one of Brannie’s rare eye-crossings.
“You know . . .” Keita suddenly studied them both and Aidan was dragon enough to admit . . . that made him very nervous.
“We know what?” Brannie asked, also sounding a little terrified.
Keita’s head tipped to the side and one long finger tapped the side of her mouth as she studied them.
And, for the first time ever, Aidan saw what Éibhear had always said. “If you look closely, you realize Keita resembles my mother more than Morfyd ever could.”
Aidan had dismissed Éibhear’s statement, believing that Morfyd, with her white hair and crystal-blue eyes, was like a twin to the queen. But Éibhear had been right all along, hadn’t he?
Aidan knew that now as he watched the princess coldly size them up like cattle she’d found at an open market.
“Plus you also have Uther and Caswyn with you?”
“They’re wounded.”
“I’m sure that can be fixed.” She nodded. “This could work out perfectly,” Keita announced. “Yes. Perfect. I can definitely use you all.”
Aidan just bet she could.
“Use us for what?” Brannie asked.
“To help me—”
“No,” Brannie stated quickly, with no room for argument. But Keita found room. She always found room.
“If you’d only listen—”
“No.”
“It’s import—”
“No.”
Keita put her hands on her hips, her expression now truly annoyed. “I am a princess. I order you, Branwen the Awful.”
And when Brannie bent over at the waist, her hands on her knees, her hysterical laughter ringing out over the entire forest—Aidan wasn’t exactly surprised.
Then Brannie looked at him. She looked at him in that way she had.
And that’s when he started laughing, too.
* * *
“Oh, thank you, Keita,” Brannie stated with all honesty. She wiped tears from her eyes. “Poor Aidan and I had been sniping at each other the last hour or so, but you made us feel so much better. Didn’t she, Aidan?”
He nodded since he was unable to reply verbally. What with the hysterical laughter and all.
“I’m not joking, Branwen. I’m ordering you all to accompany me on my journey.”
“Stop! Stop!” Brannie begged, now leaning against Aidan’s shoulder, unable to keep herself standing. “You’re killing us!”
Keita’s dark brown eyes narrowed on Brannie, but what did her ridiculous cousin expect? That she actually had any control of this situation? Yes. She was a princess. Yes. She was royal born. But during a war the only ones with true power over troops were the queen and those given military titles. Like Branwen. Like her mother. Like all her uncles and aunts. Not like Keita. Never Keita.
She loved her cousin, she really did, but she’d never taken her seriously. Not unless it involved juicy gossip about the family or other useless royals like herself.
Still . . . no point in hurting Keita’s feelings—assuming she had any feelings—so Brannie choked back her laughter and reached over to slap Aidan’s shoulder to get him to stop laughing as well.
“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He stood tall, his laughter under control.
Until they made the mistake of locking eyes. Then they both burst out laughing once more, Brannie bending over at the waist, Aidan forced to lean against Brannie this time in order to continue standing.
“We’re sorry, Keita,” Brannie gasped out, seeing through her tears that her cousin had closed her eyes. She assumed in frustration. “It’s just—”
“Finding amusement at my daughter’s expense?” Brannie heard a voice ask. A voice she recognized better than her own.
Brannie wiped the tears from her eyes with the back of her hands, and she gawked at her Aunt Rhiannon, who was standing not too far from her. She was in her human form, completely naked, and eating plums from a nearby tree.
Plum trees? There were no plum trees in this forest.
“Auntie . . . Rhiannon?” Brannie shook her head, glanced around, confused. “How did you . . . ?”
Aidan was still laughing so she punched his shoulder and pointed. When he saw Rhiannon, the Mì-runach immediately dropped to one knee, head bowed.
Brannie fought her desire to sneer and roll her eyes. Her aunt wouldn’t appreciate that one bit.
To avoid doing any of that, Brannie looked around again and now understood what was confusing her. They were no longer in the forest with the poisoned pond. They were somewhere else.
“My sacred space, dear,” Rhiannon replied, even though Brannie hadn’t asked the question. “Much easier than sending messages back and forth through Keita since she can never seem to get that right.”
“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Keita complained while reaching for one of the plums hanging near her. She had one in her hand but her mother slapped it away.
“Mum!”
“My plums!” Rhiannon snarled before smiling sweetly at Brannie and Aidan. “Stand, my dear Aidan the Divine. Stand.”
He did but, to Brannie’s growing disgust, she immediately noticed he still didn’t make eye contact with the queen.
Oy. The Mì-runach. They took their kowtowing to the queen so seriously.
“Now, my sweets, what is going on?”
Before Keita could answer, Brannie explained, “Your daughter’s murdering people again.”
“It wasn’t murder, you peasant,” Keita argued. “It was necessary action.”
“That’s what all murderers say.”
Rhiannon held up her hand with a half-eaten plum in it. “Wait. Who are we talking about?”
“Duke Abernathy, his wife, his two eldest sons, and their guards,” Keita blandly explained. As if she was talking about inviting them to some stuffy tea rather than confessing she’d just killed all of them.
“Oh, yes.” Rhiannon shrugged. “Keita’s right. They had to go. They were giving gold and supplies to that idiot Salebiri. You must know, Branwen, that Abernathy has never been a fan of our Annwyl.”
“So his whole family had to die?”
“Yes,” mother an
d daughter said simultaneously.
“And Annwyl’s all right with that? Since they were human and under her reign.”
Staring at Brannie coldly, Rhiannon’s lips twisted to the side and, to her amazement, Brannie’s view was suddenly blocked by Aidan’s back.
“My queen,” he said in his best soothing voice, “Branwen’s been through much today and I’m sure—”
“I can talk for my—” Brannie began, but Aidan abruptly caught hold of her wrist and pulled her around until she was in front of him. Then he wrapped his arms around her as if he was hugging her from behind, except that his hand covered her mouth.
“—you can easily understand,” he went on, “how she is feeling. We were buried under a mountain. Poor Uther and Caswyn are injured.”
“My Mì-runach babies!” the queen gasped. “Perhaps I should go to them.”
“Mum!” Keita snapped. “We have a problem here. Now! Your pets can wait.”
“Can they travel?” Rhiannon asked Aidan.
“With a healer and a good night’s sleep, I don’t see why not.”
“Take care of that, Keita.”
“Mum—”
“Do as I say. You have a stop tonight anyway.”
“Which is what I need them for.”
“Then it should all work out, shouldn’t it?” Rhiannon snapped.
Brannie finally yanked Aidan’s hand away from her mouth. “I never said that I would—”
Now Aidan’s forearm covered her face so that she could again not speak.
Bastard!
* * *
Aidan was having the hardest time keeping Brannie quiet. As human, they were nearly the same tall height, which made putting his arms around her easier, but also made her his equal in a fight. And she was fighting.
He didn’t understand. Why didn’t she see that he was simply trying to protect her from her own Cadwaladr stupidity? No matter who she was, whom she was related to, or what rank she held, at the end of the day . . . Rhiannon was queen and she had only so much patience with those who questioned her orders.
How could Brannie not see it? How could she not see how much power the queen wielded? Not just as queen but as a witch. They were standing in what Rhiannon called her “sacred space.” A place with trees that had fresh fruit that could be eaten, one sun, and squirrels. There was one right there, climbing up a tree behind the queen. That was power. That was a She-dragon who could eat the world if she so chose. So what made Brannie think that she could get away with questioning Rhiannon’s orders?
Brannie managed to pull away by slamming her foot against his instep. Aidan stumbled back as she swung her arms wide to force him farther away.
“Get off! Get off! Get off!” she barked.
“He’s merely protecting you, Branwen.”
“Protecting me from what?”
Rhiannon smirked. “Me, silly girl.”
“I take my orders from your generals, Your Majesty. And until I hear from one of them, I will be heading back to my troops.” She turned to make a strong exit, but quickly realized they didn’t know how to exit Rhiannon’s world.
“You want orders?” Rhiannon asked.
“Actually, I want to get out of here.”
“Then orders you shall have.” Rhiannon raised her left hand and snapped her fingers.
Ghleanna the Decimator suddenly appeared. Wherever she’d been, she’d been leaning over. Perhaps at a desk. Probably going over battle plans. But the desk was no longer there and Ghleanna hit the ground hard.
She came up cursing. “What the unholy fuck—?” she bellowed, stopping short when she got to her feet, her eyes taking in the one sun above.
“Rhiannon,” she growled, “I hate when you do this.”
“Sorry, sister, but I need your assistance”—she swept her hand in Brannie’s direction—“with her.”
Ghleanna turned, her eyes widening at the sight of her daughter. “Branwen?”
“Hi, Mum.”
Suddenly Ghleanna stalked over to Brannie and grabbed her in a long hug.
“Uh . . . Mum?”
“We thought you were dead, Branwen,” Rhiannon explained.
Brannie blinked in surprise, her gaze flicking to Aidan’s over her mother’s shoulder. Then her arms were right around her mother, the pair hugging like they hadn’t seen each other in a century rather than a few months.
“I’m fine, Mum. Really.”
“What happened?” Ghleanna asked.
“Mountain went down.”
The general pulled back and gawked at her daughter. “The mountain went down?”
“Yeah. Mountain went down.”
“How is that even possible?” Ghleanna asked the queen.
* * *
Fearghus landed hard, Briec and Gwenvael right behind him. Taking a few more tentative steps, he leaned over and studied the long, wide schism that had opened up in what had once been the most recent battlefield of this war.
“What the battle-fuck is this?” Briec asked, leaning over Fearghus’s shoulder.
Without an answer for his brother, Fearghus instead examined the area. “Weren’t there mountains? Like . . . lots of mountains. All around here?”
“Aye. There were.”
Fearghus had been leading his troops here to attack from the skies when the very air around him turned violent, tossing him and the troops around for several seconds before they were able to right themselves again and proceed. He’d decided to keep his troops back until he investigated what the hell had happened. He still didn’t know, but he was sure that whatever had happened was not good. For anyone.
Gwenvael pushed past his brothers and leaned far over the pit to stare into the blackness. “Do you think they all fell down there?” he asked.
Briec glanced at Fearghus.
“Maybe you should find out,” Fearghus suggested, seconds before Briec shoved their younger brother in.
They ignored the screaming as Fearghus told Briec, “Let’s find the children.”
* * *
“They took out all the mountains in that region,” Rhiannon explained, her hands clasped together. “They used spells centuries old. From before even my mother’s time.”
“Destroying eons of work by gods and dragons.” Ghleanna shook her head. “Bastards.”
“Now my dragons have nowhere to safely hide from man or enemy. All in that region will be trapped out in the open.”
“So we’re pulling out?” Brannie asked, her rage seemingly gone now that her mother was here.
Aidan was relieved. He wasn’t sure that Brannie knew Rhiannon as well as she thought she did. She saw her as an aunt, but the queen didn’t let the love she had for her mate’s kin get in the way of her reign. Brannie hadn’t seen that side of her “dear auntie Rhiannon.”
Glances passed between Rhiannon and Ghleanna at Brannie’s question.
“What?” Brannie asked.
“We’ve pulled back, but we’re not pulling out,” Ghleanna told her daughter. “Instead, we’re planning a full strike—led by your uncle Bercelak.”
Aidan immediately turned to the queen. “Lord Bercelak is leaving your side?”
“I want this done, Aidan. They’ve been destroying my lands, now our mountains. Burning the forests, salting the earth. And next they’ll go for our water supplies. We can no longer afford to go back and forth with them. Another year of this and we’ll have nothing left for all of you to come home to.”
“At this moment,” Ghleanna explained, “King Gaius is using his legions to push Salebiri’s troops back to their soil. Then we close ranks around them—and crush them. Once we’re done there, we take out Salebiri at his home front, leaving nothing behind.”
Brannie nodded at her mother’s words. “Good.” She glanced at Aidan and said, “We need to get back and—”
“No,” Ghleanna cut in. She jerked her thumb at a surprisingly quiet Keita. “You go with your cousin.”
Brannie reared back as if she
’d been slapped.
“I’ll do no such thing.”
Black eyes locked on black eyes. “You’ll do as I order you to.”
“No. Not on this. I will not risk my troops—Mum! Ow! Stop it!”
Aidan cringed watching Ghleanna the Decimator grab her daughter by the hair and walk off with her.
“Excuse us a minute,” she growled at Rhiannon.
“Take your time.”
Once the two She-dragons were a bit away from them for privacy, Rhiannon smirked at Aidan and asked, “Do you plan to disobey any orders, dearest Aidan?”
“Who? Me?” He snorted. “I like my hair just where it is, my queen. On my head.”
“It does look lovely there.”
He smiled. “Doesn’t it?”
* * *
Brannie tried to pull away from her mother without hurting her, but Ghleanna gripped her the same way she used to when she had to separate Brannie from her brother Celyn.
“Mum!” she barked again. “Let me go!”
Her mother abruptly released her, sending Brannie back-first into the trunk of a very large oak.
“What do you think you’re doing?” her mother demanded.
“What am I doing? Trying not to get in a brawl with me own mum. That’s what!”
“When you’re given an order—”
“But, Mum—”
Her mother held up one blunt, angry finger. And it was so angry.
“When you’re given an order by a superior,” she said again, “you bloody well follow it.”
“Even when I know it’s wrong? Even when I know it’s a waste of my bloody time?”
“Who are you to say it’s wrong?”
“You want me to follow Keita. I love my cousin, but—”
“Ren has disappeared.”
“Ren? Ren who?” Ghleanna raised a brow, and Brannie guessed, “Ren of the Chosen?”
Ren of the Chosen was the youngest offspring of Empress Xinyi, the dragon ruler of the Eastland Empires far across the seas. When he was much younger, he’d been sent to Devenallt Mountain by his then-ruling father. From what Brannie had heard, no one had known what to expect from any Eastland royal, much less one related by direct bloodline to the Chosen Dynasty.
But Ren had surprised everyone by fitting in. Not only with the royals, but even the Cadwaladrs. Bercelak had nothing but good things to say about him, and Brannie’s uncle had nothing good to say about anyone.