“There’s no need to worry, Queen Annwyl,” Ásta said to her. “You’re doing the right thing. Talwyn will finally be where she belongs. With the Kyvich.”
“Ásta really thinks this is a good idea?” Aidan asked Éibhear.
“Apparently.”
Annwyl faced Ásta. “She’s my daughter. She’ll always be my daughter.”
“No one said that would change. But you have to know this is for the best. You have to know that—”
Éibhear and Aidan cringed when Annwyl’s fist collided with Ásta’s face. Bone shattered and blood spurted, the warrior witch stumbling to the side but not falling.
“I feel better now. Thank you.” Annwyl looked at her daughter. “I love you, Talwyn.”
Her daughter smiled. “I love you, Mum.”
Turning away, Annwyl headed up the stairs until she reached Fearghus. She took his hand with her own and he kissed the back of her bloody and bruised knuckles.
Wiping the blood from her nose with her forearm, Ásta nodded at her second in command and headed toward her horse.
“Kyvich!” the second in command called out. “Mount up!”
The oversized travel party headed out of the courtyard and toward the main road. Éibhear signaled the Mì-runach to follow the party while he went up the stairs to Talaith.
“We’ll watch out for Rhi. Make sure she gets there safe.”
“I know.”
“When we get her settled, I’ll bring Iz back.”
Talaith went up on her toes, her arms open. Éibhear crouched so that she could hug him, his brothers behind her sneering. In answer, Éibhear took the middle and forefinger of his left hand and flicked them at the bastards.
And without even turning around, Talaith snapped, “You three! Leave your brother alone!”
She pulled away, patted his arm. “Go on, Éibhear. Don’t let them bother you. They’re just jealous.”
“Of what?” Briec asked. “His giant head?”
Éibhear moved toward his brother, but Talaith stepped between them.
“What is wrong with you?” she demanded of her mate.
“Why are you yelling at me?”
“Why do you think?”
Knowing this might go on for a while, Éibhear walked over to Frederik and Dagmar.
“Good travels, Éibhear.”
“Thanks, Dagmar.”
He looked down at Frederik. “You’ll be all right until I get back?”
“He’ll be fine.” Dagmar answered for the boy while wrapping her arms around Frederik, squeezing him tight. “I’m just so glad he’s here. He fits in well, don’t you think?”
“Well—”
Dagmar released the boy. “You know what, Frederik? Why don’t we adopt you?”
“Uh . . .”
“I’ll write my father,” Dagmar insisted. “Right now!”
She went back inside and Frederik looked at Éibhear. “That probably isn’t necessary. I doubt my family will be back for me.”
“That’s good, because I’m guessing she’s not giving you up without a fight.”
Gwenvael pushed himself away from the wall he’d been silently leaning against and patted the boy on the shoulder. “We’re all very glad you’re here!” he yelled before he followed Dagmar inside.
“Is he going to keep yell—”
“Yes. He is.” Éibhear sighed. “Just . . . deal with it.”
“Will you be gone long?”
“Not too long. I’ll make sure to bring you some books from the Desert Lands. Okay?”
“Okay. Safe travels.”
With a wave, Éibhear headed off, mounting his horse and catching up with everyone else. Weaving his horse through the crowd, he tried to find Izzy. He finally rode up to Aidan, Caswyn, and Uther. “Seen Iz?” Éibhear asked them.
“Uh-huh.”
“Well?” he pushed when his friends said nothing else. “Where is she?”
Aidan pointed . . . up.
“Gods of piss and fire!” Éibhear roared, wondering what else this woman could do to drive him insane.
Izzy charged up Addolgar’s neck and over his head, and leaped off his snout. The wind this high up was harsh, knocking her off balance, so that she missed Celyn’s back. She rolled and flipped in midair, the ground below rushing forward. She saw Ghleanna not far away and knew she could reach her with a bit of effort. She simply needed to—
A tail wrapped around her waist and tossed her up. Izzy flipped again, laughing the entire way until she landed hard on Éibhear’s back.
“What is wrong with you?” he snarled, sounding just like her mother.
“Just a bit of fun.”
“Can’t you do something a little safer? Like ride into battle against demons, nak*d and without weapons or go swimming in molten lava?”
“You sound angry.”
“Because you seem determined to make me insane.”
“That’s a cruel thing to suggest.” Izzy stretched her arms across the length of Éibhear’s neck. “You know I simply adore you.”
“What you adore is being irritating—and stop writhing around back there.”
“Sorry,” but she didn’t remotely mean it. “You know, Éibhear, I still love your hair.”
“Thank you.”
“Can I put warrior braids in it?”
“No, you may not. We are on a serious mission to deliver a Southland royal to the Desert Lands. We don’t have time for your obsession over my hair and whether it’s in braids or not.”
“Do you think Aidan will let me braid his hair?”
With a snarl, the bastard spun in midair, Izzy screeching and tightening her thighs around his neck until he’d righted himself again.
“You evil bastard!” she laughed.
“That’s what you get! Taunting me with another dragon, you cruel, vicious female.”
“That you love more than the suns.”
She felt his deep chuckle spread through her, wrap around her. “That’s very true. My tragic weakness.”
“But a weakness I’m going to allow.”
“That’s good. Because I do love you, Izzy. I truly do.”
Resting her cheek against his scales, her face buried under all that blue hair being whipped about by the wind, Izzy wrapped her arms around Éibhear’s neck and said the only thing she could possibly think of at this moment.
“Well, it’s about gods-damn time, Éibhear the Blue. Because I’ve been waiting a bloody lifetime for you.”
Epilogue
They reached the main road that cut through Dark Plains and the one large group split into two distinct parts. One turned south toward the Desert Lands, the other north toward the Ice Lands.
While the two groups headed off on their separate paths, three held back, two on horses, one standing.
The three didn’t speak. They didn’t have to. Since they were babes they’d never needed words to know what the others were feeling or thinking. But this would be the first time they would be apart from each other. It wouldn’t be easy, but they all knew that it wasn’t forever. No matter what the witches or monks or anyone else thought or said or believed, the truth was that the connection of these three beings was stronger than anything anyone would ever understand. They were only separating now so that when they were together again, they’d be even stronger, even more powerful, and most importantly, even more ready.
Ready for when the dark times came and they were needed.
Because those dark times were coming. They were coming fast. And what had happened in the Desert Land city sewers had only delayed their problems—not ended them.
With a nod, Talwyn walked off first. Rhi, still crying from when she’d said good-bye to her parents, headed south, the Mì-runach that Uncle Éibhear had hidden in the nearby forests following her.
Then Talan took one more look around, turned his horse north, and went off to prepare for his future.
The males, never good with emotions, had gone off to steal cows from the local farmers for a quick meal while Annwyl sat on the stairs leading into the Great Hall with Talaith, Dagmar, Keita, and Morfyd.
Thankfully no one felt the need to speak. Instead they just sat and stared off, the loss of the children felt by all of them equally.
“Excuse me.”
Annwyl looked up. A pretty woman with a young child stood in front of them. “Can I help you?”
“Aye. I was trying to find someone who could help me get an audience with Queen Annwyl.”
“I’m Queen Annwyl.”
The woman’s jaw visibly tensed. “Can’t you just say I can’t meet with her? Do you have to mock me?”
“Actually,” Dagmar said, “she is Queen Annwyl.”
Frowning, clearly not believing any of them, the woman looked Annwyl over.
“What do you need?” Dagmar prompted kindly when the woman just kept staring.
“I need help,” she said tentatively. “And I was told you were the one who could help me.”
“Help doing what?”
“You see, my lady, I was driven from my village. Because of my son.”
Annwyl studied the child. He was a beautiful boy. Tall with golden blond hair and big green eyes. “Is he ill?” He looked well enough but perhaps he carried something....
“No, my lady. He’s . . . uh . . .” The woman wrapped her arms around the boy like she was protecting him. “He’s my son. My son. And I’ll do what I must to protect him.”
“Has someone threatened him?”
“The elders of our village say that if I try to bring him back, they’ll kill him.”
Annwyl fought her urge to crack her neck or turn her hands into fists. She’d discovered over the years that those who didn’t know her well found those reactions threatening.
“Why would they say that?”
She hugged her son a little tighter. “Because . . . because of his father.”
“Who’s his father?”
“Not who, my lady.” Slowly, the woman turned her head, then looked up into the sky. Annwyl and her sisters followed suit, looking up. And, over their heads, dragons flew.
“A dragon?” Morfyd finally said. “The boy’s father is a dragon?”
The woman nodded. “Yes. I don’t understand it myself. The one I was with . . . I didn’t know he was”—she cleared her throat—“a . . . a dragon until my son was nearly two. But by then it didn’t matter. He’s my son.”
“But the village elders wanted you to give him up?” Talaith asked. Of them all, she had the most experience with small village life.
“I couldn’t do it. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but a temple priest said to come here. That you might be able to help. That at the very least, we’d be welcome since you’re not averse to dragons. So here we are.”
Annwyl scratched her head. This hadn’t been the way she’d planned to spend the rest of her day, but perhaps it was for the best. It would not be a good idea for her to sit around and brood over her children.