Moving quickly, Morfyd grabbed hold of Talaith’s wrist, then put two fingers to her throat. Frowning, she bent down over the other woman’s face.
“She breathes.” The brothers sagged in relief while Morfyd looked to the skies. “Fearghus!”
“What’s wrong?”
Watching Fearghus lower himself to the ground, Morfyd said, “She’s freezing.” She quickly removed her cape and wrapped it around Talaith. “I need to get her back to Garbhán Isle and warmed up.”
Lifting Talaith in her arms, Morfyd rushed toward Fearghus. “Meet us back at the castle.”
Briec watched his sister climb onto Fearghus’ back and his brother lift into the air. He was about to follow, ready to yank off his clothes and shift, when Gwenvael stopped him. “I don’t think it’s me she wants.”
Confused, Briec turned and realized Izzy was blindly reaching for him. He moved closer and immediately she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into his neck.
He stared at his brothers, unsure of what to do with a sobbing girl in his arms.
Gwenvael leaned into him and whispered in his ear, “Tell her it’ll be all right.”
Holding her tight and rubbing her back, Briec said out loud, “It’ll be all right, Izzy.”
“Don’t…worry…about…anything,” Éibhear whispered against his other ear.
“Don’t worry about anything,” Briec said softly and Izzy held him tighter. He closed his eyes and hugged her back. “We’ll take good care of your mother, Izzy. I promise.”
She gave a little nod. “All right then,” she said through her tears.
His brothers walked off and he followed, Izzy still clinging to him. “Let’s get you home, little Izzy.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
She woke up, but didn’t move for a good five minutes. It was in her training. Sometimes it was smart to pretend you were dead or unconscious until you knew exactly how horrifying your situation.
No sounds, except for snoring. Relatively loud snoring, too. Must be fierce, blood-thirsty monsters with that level of snoring.
Talaith opened her eyes and looked around the room. Candles and a lit pitfire illuminated everything quite nicely without hurting her eyes.
Morfyd slept in a chair, curled up like a cat. Fearghus leaned against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. Éibhear slept flat on the floor, his arms and legs stretched out. She didn’t envy the female who would have to sleep next to him for the next eight hundred years. Surprisingly, he wasn’t the one snoring. That honor went to Gwenvael. Asleep in a big chair, his big, long legs stretched out in front of him, his head thrown back, he snored like a giant bear. Grinning, her gaze moved to the form of her daughter. Izzy sat on a bench by the window, her legs pulled up, her chin resting on her knees. Awake, she stared out the window into the dark night.
And sitting right next to her, Briec. Like Izzy and Fearghus, he was awake, but he stared straight at Talaith, waiting for her to notice him probably. Arrogant bastard.
They stared at each other silently. For once, Talaith knew words were unnecessary. She could see everything she needed to see in Briec’s face. In the way his eyes watched her and his relief at seeing her awake.
“Mum?”
Talaith again looked at Izzy and smiled.
“Mum!” The girl scrambled off the bench and dived across the bed, landing in Talaith’s outstretched arms. She hugged her daughter tight, letting the girl hold on to her and cry into her neck.
Morfyd stood. “It’s good to see you awake, sister.” She pushed Gwenvael’s shoulder. “Wake up.”
Startled, Gwenvael sat up screaming, “I never touched her!”
Morfyd rolled her eyes and headed toward the door. “You are a constant source of embarrassment, little brother. Fearghus, follow me.”
Fearghus nodded at Talaith and followed his sister out. Gwenvael stood and stretched. “Talaith, my love.”
“Gwenvael, my pain.”
Chuckling, he reached down, grabbing hold of Éibhear’s hand, and dragged the still-sleeping dragon from the room.
Finally, Briec stood. A soft smile on his lips, he headed toward the door, his eyes never leaving Talaith’s face. He stopped at the doorway to look at her one more time before he walked out, softly closing the door behind him.
“Izzy?” Talaith forced her daughter back, staring intently at her. “Are you all right?”
Tears streaming down her face, she nodded.
“Are you sure?”
She couldn’t remember much after talking to Rhydderch Hael.
“I’m fine, Mum. I am.”
“Arzhela?”
A strange expression passed over her daughter’s features, but was gone so quickly, Talaith wasn’t sure if it was a play of the shifting light or not. “Gone now. I don’t think she’ll be back.”
“Did she suffer?”
“Yes. I believe she did.”
Talaith pulled Izzy back into the safety of her arms. “Good. That makes me smile.”
“Me, too, Mum. Me, too.”
* * *
Annwyl leaned back in the tub, sighing heavily. She’d finally worn herself out. Somewhere during her fight with that last battalion and setting fire to the still-decaying and screaming remains of Hamish, she’d lost her energy to continue fighting. She left her men to clean up and rode back to Garbhán Isle with her elite guard. After removing most of the blood using the well near the stables and cleaning the blood and gore off Violence, she’d returned to her room. The servants filled her tub with hot water and quickly disappeared. They wouldn’t look at her, mostly because they’d seen her decimate the Great Hall hours before.
The bedroom door opened and Fearghus walked in. He didn’t look at her either. He simply walked into the room, placed a bottle of wine on a side table by the window, and proceeded to remove his clothes.
“What’s that?” Annwyl motioned toward the bottle of wine.
He barely glanced at her. “It’s from Morfyd. Should you need it.”
She’d suffered no wounds during battle. At least nothing that needed anything more than some of Morfyd’s ointments. Unless it was for her other “problem”.
“How’s Talaith?”
“Awake.”
“Good.” She probably should apologize to Talaith. She wasn’t sure, but she may have thrown a chair at the woman’s head. And a table.
Fearghus dropped his clothes to the floor as was his way. She expected him to go to bed but instead he walked over to the tub and stared down at her.
“You’re not going to shove me under the water, are you?”
He finally smiled. “Move up a bit.” She did and he got in behind her, his long legs on either side of her. “Back.”
She leaned back, relaxing against Fearghus’ chest.
“Feel better?”
“Now that I’ve decimated an entire army and set Hamish’s rotting corpse aflame…I don’t feel half bad.”
“Good.” Big arms wrapped around her and Annwyl let herself relax with the only being she ever let herself relax around. “We’ve got decisions to make, love.”
“I know,” she sighed out. “I know we do.”
“Before you met me did you want a family? Children?”
“To be quite honest, I never thought I’d live this long. So I never thought of it as an option. You?”
“Sometimes. But nothing that ever kept me up nights. I do know I don’t like to be used.”
And that was Annwyl’s biggest problem with all this. Gods having fun with her body and with her and Fearghus’ love for each other. “Aye. That pisses me off as well.”
“Still…”
“Still what?”
“Imagine the kind of children we would have.”
She’d been doing that all day, in between the killing of course. “Bloody nightmares is what we’d have, Fearghus.”
“Aye.”
“Killers,” she added.
“Destroyers.”
“Warlords.”
“Definitely.”
“So what’s your point, dragon?”
“They’ll be ours to raise as we sit fit. They’ll be ours, Annwyl.”
“Aye. They’ll be part Fearghus the Destroyer and Annwyl the Bloody. Two of the most violent and vicious beings known in recent history as I was told the other day by an old wizard passing through town.”
“Aye. We are that.”
“And do you really want to release the unholy product of our union on the world?”
“No, Annwyl.” He pulled her wet hair to the side. “I want to release the unholy product of our union on them.”
Annwyl tried to sit up, but Fearghus kept a tight grip on her with his arms while he kissed her neck. “You can’t be serious, Fearghus.”
“Why not,” he muttered into her neck. “They play games like this, Annwyl, and they risk the outcome. They risk losing.”
“So what are you saying?”
“I want to raise them with one goal in mind. One purpose.”
“You want them to challenge gods?”
Fearghus didn’t answer her, but instead kissed his way down her neck and to her shoulders.
“You can’t be serious,” she said again. No, no. This was wrong. There had been a few in history who’d challenged gods. Some lost. Some barely survived. And very few ever won.
“It’s what they deserve.”
Annwyl pulled herself away from Fearghus. She had to. His kisses were completely distracting her. She turned her body in the large tub so she faced her mate.
“You want us to raise the killers of gods?”
“No. I want to raise warriors who aren’t afraid to challenge gods.”
“Have you lost your mind, dragon?”
“No, I haven’t lost my mind. Think about it, Annwyl. They’re already being hunted—apparently by everyone. As are you. If for no other reason, we need to make sure they can protect themselves. And eventually us in our doddering old age.”
“Fearghus,” she gave a weak smile, “you’ve gone mad.” But already the idea had grown on her. Even as she knew the wrongness of it—she didn’t care.
“They’ll be feared,” he insisted.
“More like hated.”
“Respected. No one will ever use them. They won’t be killed. They’ll be too mean to die.”
“I thought that was your father.”
Grinning, Fearghus grabbed her around the waist and dragged her onto his lap. She felt his erect c*ck pressing against her. “Imagine, Annwyl,” he teased as he stroked her body with his hands and set it on fire with his tongue, “hatchlings even my father will fear.”
“Now, dragon,” she moaned, arching into him as he slowly pushed his c*ck inside her, “you’re just trying to sweet talk me.”
* * *
Briec felt the tap on his shoulder and forced his eyes open. Izzy stood over him.
“Is everything all right, Izzy?”