“What’s this for?”
“Just in case. Trust me. Ask for Aidan. He usually talks for all of them.”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Thank you.”
Éibhear watched the boy walk down the stairs. Nothing worse than finding out your own kin don’t want you. He didn’t blame Dagmar as much as those ridiculous brothers and nephews of hers.
Standing tall, Éibhear headed back into the Great Hall, meeting Izzy at the doorway.
“Can’t stand it anymore?” he asked.
“They’re not letting me get a word in. I’m going to see if I can find Brannie.”
“Then dress shopping? So you can woo Keita’s friend?”
Her lip curled, eyes narrowing. He was glad to see her look of disgust. He didn’t want to think about her even considering involving herself in whatever Keita was up to.
Without another word, she walked out, and Briec and Fearghus walked in. They stood on either side of Éibhear.
“What are they arguing about now?” Briec asked.
And Éibhear could have just said, “Oh . . . nothing to worry about.” He could have.
He didn’t.
“Keita wants to whore out your eldest daughter.”
Confused, Briec frowned, but Keita heard Éibhear and spun around, stomping her tiny, bare foot.
“Éibhear! Stop saying that! I’m not trying to whore her out!”
“Then what the hells are you trying to do?” Briec demanded, knowing their sister well enough to suspect that if she was bothering to defend herself, there was a chance she was doing exactly what she was trying to say that she wasn’t doing.
And now that Briec had taken over arguing with Keita, Talaith stepped out. She stopped by Éibhear’s side. “Where did Izzy go?”
“She said to find Brannie.”
“All right. Thanks.”
She started to walk off, but Éibhear took a quick step back, leaning down to get a good look at her face. “Everything all right, Talaith? This thing with Keita—”
Talaith quickly dismissed that with a wave and an eye roll. “Don’t worry,” she said, reaching up and patting his shoulder. “I’m fine.” She pulled her hand away, then reached up and patted his shoulder again. Then his entire arm. “Gods, Éibhear.”
“What?” he asked, looking down at his arm.
But she didn’t answer, just walked off in search of her daughter.
Izzy heard her name called and stopped, turning. Her mother ran up to her.
“Do you have some time to talk?” Talaith asked.
“About Keita? Really?”
“Not Keita. I’m letting your father deal with that.” She stepped closer, glanced around, and lowered her voice. “It’s about Rhi.”
“My house? I’ll make us some tea.”
Her mother nodded. “Sounds perfect.”
Arm in arm, mother and daughter walked to Izzy’s house. And although they chatted amiably, Izzy knew her mother well enough to know that something was bothering her. Something that had nothing to do with Keita’s latest outrageous political maneuver.
Once at the house, Izzy sat her mother down at the table and pulled out some cake that she’d bought for the dinner she’d had with Celyn and Brannie the evening before. She cut several pieces and put them on a plate before her mother. Then she went about making the tea.
By the time Izzy poured the tea and sat down at the table cattycorner from her mother, it was easy to see how distressed she was. Taking her mother’s hands in her own, Izzy said, “Mum . . . what is it?”
“I’m so glad you’re home. I need your help.”
“Tell me. What do you need?”
“I’ll need your help with your father. You’re so good with him.”
“Anything, Mum. Just tell me.”
“Your sister . . .”
“What about her?” Izzy pushed.
“Her skills as a witch . . . they’re . . .” Talaith licked her lips, took a breath. “I want to send her to her grandmother for training. Proper training.”
Izzy winced. “Grandmum, eh?” She shrugged. “That won’t be easy. But I’m sure I can come up with something to get Dad to agree. Although it’ll be hard for Rhi on Devenallt Mountain, being unable to fly . . . wait. Can she fly?”
Talaith shook her head. “No, no. Not your grandmum. Your grandmother.” Talaith licked her lips again and admitted, “My mother.”
Izzy stared at her mother for a long moment. Then, when she truly understood what she was saying, Izzy flung her mother’s hands away and roared, “Have you lost your f**king mind?”
“That is enough!” Dagmar snarled, stepping between Briec and Keita and swinging her arms in an attempt to stop the ridiculous slap fight between siblings.
“Your lady is very brave,” Éibhear stated to Gwenvael before taking a bite out of the fruit he held.
“She is. I’ve seen her face down some of the worst tyrants with absolutely no fear.”
“You mean Dad?”
“He was one.” Gwenvael glanced at him. “Did you start all this?”
“I’d really say that Keita started it, but I did escalate the argument to the free-for-all you see before you.”
“Nicely handled, little brother. I’m usually the only one who creates this level of discord.”
“I’d found that creating discord, as you call it, among the Ice Landers, made them much easier to kill because they were so distracted. I have to admit . . . I’ve used that to my advantage.”
Gwenvael put his hand to his heart. “Are you saying that I helped you become a better killer?”
“You have, brother. You have.”
“I’m surprisingly proud of that.”
Dagmar faced Keita. “I thought I was to handle Lord Madock.”
“You were taking too long and once I discovered his taste for women with muscular thighs bigger than his entire body, I thought of Izzy.”
“Wait,” Briec said. “Are you saying you want Lord Madock dead?”
“You’re just getting that?”
“And you expected Izzy to kill him? A man she doesn’t even know?”
“All Izzy does every day is kill,” Keita snapped back. “She kills and she orders others to kill. So why are we acting like she’s some weak little child I’m trying to marry off?”
“Why didn’t you just ask her that then?” Dagmar wanted to know. “To take care of Madock? Rather than this pretending you want her to meet and entertain a man more than twice her senior?”
Keita shrugged. “Celyn was twice her senior and no one seemed to have a problem.”
Gwenvael sucked his tongue against his teeth.
“What’s wrong?” Éibhear asked him.
“I’m sad Talaith wasn’t here for that one. It would have led to a lovely fistfight.”
“A fight Keita would have lost.”
“Gods, yes. She’s so busy protecting her face, Talaith just hits her with repeated body shots until she passes out.”
Izzy leaned back in her chair and gazed at her mother, her mouth slightly open. “How you can even consider—”
“Izzy, I understand your concerns but—”
“My concerns?” Izzy rubbed her forehead, tried to be calm. “Mum, that bitch abandoned you. She tossed you out, left you defenseless, all because you’d fallen in love with my birth father and gotten pregnant with me. How could you ever forgive her for what she did to you? What she allowed to happen? It was because she abandoned you when you needed her most that Arzhela was able to get to you. To ruin your life for sixteen years.”
“I never said I would forgive her, Izzy. I remember everything. The horrible things she said and did when I told her that I was in love with your father. That I was pregnant with you. How she purposely waited until I was hours away from labor before she told me to get out because I’d betrayed my sisters. And just before I left, news came that your father . . .” Talaith cleared her throat, took a breath. “That your father had been killed in battle, yet she still threw me out of the temple. So understand that I have no intention of forgiving Haldane, Daughter of Elisa for a gods-damn thing. But we have to be realistic about your sister.”
“What can your mother teach her that Rhiannon can’t? That Morfyd can’t? They’re both white Dragonwitches and—”
“Right,” she cut in. “They’re both white dragons. Dragons, Iseabail. Not humans. And Rhi’s half human.”
It was something they never really talked about except as a way to explain how difficult Rhi and the twins could be at any given moment. Because it had never mattered before. Not to Izzy and not to the rest of the family. So why was it important now?
“I know she’s half human, Mum. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it when it comes to Magick, when it comes to power. And Rhiannon’s ability to control her Magick, to rein it in, was born into her. The control of human Magick, however, needs to be taught.”
“And you can’t do that?”
“Not for your sister. I’ve tried, Iseabail. Gods, have I tried. But her power . . .” Talaith fell back in her chair, her eyes locked on a spot across the room. “Her power has grown, only now it fluctuates with her moods. It wasn’t too bad when she was a child but when she came into her first blood . . .” Talaith shook her head. “She set Gwenvael on fire.”
Izzy’s back snapped straight. “She did what?”
“I know. He’s a dragon, but he was on fire. It was a good thing he is a dragon because he recovered after a few days. Even so, there was a lot of whining for all the females to take care of him, which was actually more annoying than anything else that happened.”
“Mum.”
Her mother looked at her. “Hhhm?”
“She set him on fire?”
“You know Gwenvael. He started it.”
“But if it hadn’t been Gwenvael . . .”
“Exactly, Izzy. And that was when Rhi was barely fourteen winters. She’s been working with me, Morfyd, Rhiannon, Ragnar, a few powerful dragon Elders . . . and although she tries hard, so very hard . . . once her anger or, even worse, her fear and panic come into play”—Talaith wrapped her hands around the mug and gazed down at it—“the damage continues to get worse.”
“What about Talan and Talwyn?”
“They protect her, just like always. That has never changed, I doubt it ever will. They’re equally powerful, but in different ways.” She looked at Izzy, smiled. “Just like you.”
“Powerful? Me?” Izzy shrugged. “Anyone can be powerful, Mum, with three legions at your back.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Iseabail. What you lack in Magick, you more than make up for in physical power and skill. Besides, dismissing anyone who lacks Magicks is something your grandmother would do. I’m sure you don’t want to make that same mistake.”