Chapter
35
Izzy and Brannie collapsed by some
cave, both panting and barely able to move.
“Of all your ideas,” Brannie told her,
“definitely the most stupid.”
“It worked, didn’t it? He was only
going to fly off before they could kill him. I don’t know about
you, but I’m ready for something new to kill.”
“That bitch Vateria’s still out there,
cousin.”
“That’s not our problem. Gaius and his
sister will have to deal with her.”
“Yeah, well, you just better hope
our—”
“Parents don’t hear about it?” a voice
snapped at them.
Izzy and Brannie flinched and looked up
to see Ghleanna and Briec standing over them, glaring, more than a
little pissed off.
Izzy tried her sweetest smile. “Hi,
Daddy.”
“Shut up.”
Well, clearly her sweetest smile
wouldn’t be working today.
Fearghus made his way over to the
Eastern Pass. That’s where he found the Southland human army, his
sister, and Annwyl . . . arguing with his sister while she
simultaneously killed every enemy around her. How she managed to do
both at the same time said much for her skill.
“If you’re just going to sit here and
yell at me while doing nothing”—Annwyl screamed at Morfyd—“then you
can just go the fuck home!”
“Don’t order me around! And after what
you did? You’re lucky I don’t flay the skin from your
bones!”
“Lovely, isn’t she?” another voice said
beside Fearghus. “My Morfyd.”
Fearghus rolled his eyes at Annwyl’s
general and Morfyd’s mate, sitting on his horse, gazing lovingly at
Fearghus’s sister.
“How did we do?”
“Most are dead,” Brastias told him. “I
sent a few squads out to track down any runners.”
“No prisoners?”
“You know Annwyl hates prisoners. She’d
rather just kill them all. Besides”—he shrugged—“we don’t have to
worry about feeding anyone and we’ll only have to kill them later.
So it’s a waste of time to keep them alive now.”
“Do me a favor, Brastias. Get Morfyd
for me.”
“Of course.” The general smiled. “You
have no idea how grateful I am to see you alive and well, Lord
Fearghus.”
Fearghus laughed. “Really? I never
thought you’d have cared one way or the other.”
“Oh, I care. The entire Queen’s Army
cares whether you live or die, my lord. Trust me, it would have
been a dark day for me and mine if anything had happened to you. A
dark day indeed.”
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 yelled 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.”