“And snow,” their eldest added. “Lots and lots of snow.”
Bram motioned to his study. “You know where I keep the gold coin.”
As if on fire, their offspring made a desperate run for their father’s study, climbing over the table and fighting each other through the door. It wasn’t pretty.
“Ghleanna—”
“You tolerate them because you love me,” she quickly reminded him.
“Gods, I do love you. I even love that lot. Crazed, murdering scum that they are.”
“They are cute. And already making their names. And . . .”
“And?” Bram pushed.
“I was promoted to General.”
Bram’s smile was real and so very warm.
He hugged her tight. “My beautiful, beautiful mate. I’m so proud of you.”
She knew that. Reveled in it. “And believe it or not—I got my rank directly from Bercelak.”
“How the hells did you manage that?”
“No idea. And you know how he is. If we’re Cadwaladrs, we gotta kill twice as many as other Dragonwarriors before that tight-lipped bastard will even grunt in our direction.”
“Still a ray of sunshine, is he?”
Ghleanna laughed until their brats tore past them again on their way out the castle doors.
“Off to the ale,” she muttered.
“And leaving us alone.”
“Aye. That they have.” She pressed her forehead against her mate’s. “Gods, I’ve missed you, peacemaker. Those bloody cold nights fighting those damn Lightnings. And all I wanted was to get home to you.”
“You are, Ghleanna. You are home. And I’ve never been happier.”