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  It was Keita, though, who became Ren’s closest ally, the pair heading off on their own adventures when they’d become old enough.

  And their friendship over all these years had never waned.

  “I’m sorry for Keita, Mum, but . . . so?”

  “He was heading back to the Eastlands to see if the Empress would join us in our fight against the Zealots.”

  Brannie let out a frustrated breath. “Well . . . again, that’s unfortunate, but—”

  “And somewhere between Annwyl’s castle and the Port Cities Ren vanished. An event that has put us in a very bad situation.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Ren was under our protection when he vanished and has been since the day he’d stepped on our territories.”

  “What did his guards say?”

  “They’re dead.”

  “Oh.” Brannie glanced off. “Well . . . that’s not good.”

  * * *

  Talwyn saw her father land in the midst of the chaos as their troops worked to get their new camp set up. And by the time she’d pushed past all those in the way, her father was in his human form and had on his leggings and boots.

  She ran into her father’s open arms.

  “Daddy!”

  He lifted her off the ground and hugged her tight. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Of course she is. She’s pure evil.”

  Talwyn smiled. “Good to see you too, Uncle Briec.”

  “Demon offspring,” Briec greeted back. “Now where is my perfect daughter? You kept her safe, didn’t you?”

  “She’s fine.” Talwyn tapped her father’s shoulders and he placed her back on the ground. “She didn’t react well, though, when the spells began to fly.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She started bleeding from the eyes, but—”

  “My baby!” Briec barked, tearing off into the camp.

  Talwyn shrugged and focused on her father. “She’ll live.” She glanced around. “Where’s Uncle Gwenvael?”

  “I’m sure he’s fine,” her father said dismissively.

  “Why are you here, Daddy?” Talwyn asked, not in the mood to delve further about the missing Gwenvael.

  “These recent attacks have changed our plans. Even before this nightmare . . . the queen had a new move.”

  Talwyn cringed. “That sounds ominous, Da.”

  “When it involves your grandmother—it usually is.”

  * * *

  “We need Ren found.”

  “And if he’s dead or if we can’t find him?” Brannie asked her mother. “What then?”

  “Then you accompany Keita to the Eastlands and protect her while she kills the Empress and most likely all of Ren’s siblings.”

  Brannie’s eyes grew wide as her mother tried to walk off. She grabbed her arm and yanked the She-dragon back.

  “Have you two lost your minds?”

  “If that dragoness thinks we’re responsible for the death of her son, she’ll call for war anyway. And that we can’t afford. A new emperor may be more reasonable.”

  Ghleanna tried to walk away once more but Brannie still had hold of her and yanked her back.

  “I’m not going to allow Keita the Viper to kill an entire ruling family. There has to be something else we can do.”

  “Do you plan to negotiate with royals?”

  “That’s not really my strength, Mum.”

  “All right then.”

  “But Keita can negotiate with anyone. Between her smile and her cock-sucking skills, it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “She has a mate now, so she doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore. Except to him, I’m assuming. But if you think the Empress can be stopped from either joining Salebiri or just destroying us for the fun of it, then I strongly suggest you go with Keita. Because her plan is to wipe out the entire family, if necessary. And although she may never raise a sword or have her own battle cry . . . if she wants them dead, she’ll make sure they’re dead. Unless you can convince her otherwise.”

  “This isn’t fair, Mum.”

  “You didn’t want to listen to orders—from your queen, no less—but now you have one of your precious moral obligations to motivate you. That should make you feel better.”

  “It doesn’t.”

  “Too bad. As I’ve told you since hatching, Branwen . . . life’s rough for a Cadwaladr.”

  “Daddy always said life doesn’t have to be that rough.”

  “Your daddy lied.”

  “Mum!”

  * * *

  “So what do you think, dear Aidan?” the queen asked about her sacred space, arms spread wide, her grin wider.

  “It’s lovely, my lady. Very relaxing.”

  “That’s what I wanted. A place I can come simply to relax. To think, to strategize without all the distractions I have to deal with in my court.”

  “It seems perfect.”

  “It is perfect,” she said, squeezing Aidan’s forearm. “Perfect and private. It’s the only place I can go and be assured the Zealot clergy can’t listen in or even hope to invade my sanctuary.” Arms raised again, the queen slowly turned. She was just so proud! Aidan couldn’t help but smile along with her.

  “Only those I’ve chosen may come here, dear Aidan. And you are one of the . . . one of . . .”

  Now scowling, the queen’s words trailed off, her angry crystal-blue eyes locked on what now walked toward them.

  Her name was Brigida the Most Foul. It was once just Brigida the Foul, but the royal twins had renamed her some time ago and it had stuck.

  The ancient She-dragon—who many felt should have died long ago merely from old age—was a Cadwaladr and, like Rhiannon, one of the rare white Dragonwitches.

  She wore dark gray robes, the hood pulled onto her head but not quite covering her face. And that face! Aidan knew that old age was hard on everyone, but Brigida had clearly given up much more than most to maintain her life in this world and the mighty powers she possessed.

  There were scars on top of scars on her face and neck. Even some gouges. What, exactly, had the dragoness fought in her search for power?

  And then there were her eyes. One was a bright blue, seemingly untouched by age. But the other . . . a milky white and gray that seemed to possess a life of its own.

  As Brigida limped past them, her walking staff slamming into the ground again and again as she moved, her blue eye stayed focused right in front of her, locked on exactly where she was headed. But the other eye . . . that one moved to each of them. Examining every being in Rhiannon’s sacred space.

  Studying each—it seemed—for risk and threat. Were any a danger to her? And, if not, did they have a soul worth taking?

  At least that’s how Aidan felt when that eye swiveled his way.

  “Don’t mind me,” Brigida announced as she walked past a livid Rhiannon. “I needed to get somewhere fast, is all, and this was the quickest way.”

  The queen suddenly jumped as Brigida passed behind her; blue eyes growing impossibly wide, she looked stunned, and he realized that Brigida had pinched Rhiannon’s ass.

  “Good day to you all!” the old witch called out before opening another mystical doorway and disappearing through it.

  “Locked up like a right fort, Mum,” Keita ruthlessly teased. Not even her mother’s glower stopped her from giggling in the angry She-dragon’s face.

  “I should have smothered you at hatching,” the queen lashed back at her youngest daughter.

  That’s when Aidan decided it was time to check on Branwen and her mother. Anything was better than getting caught in a fight between two royal females.

  But before Aidan could make his escape, Keita was standing in front of him, blocking his way.

  Flipping back her red hair, Keita sized him up like a side of meat, and nodded. “You’ll do.”

  “I’ll do for what?”

  “Aye,” the queen echoed. “He’ll do for what?”
r />   “I need a bit of a favor, Mì-runach.”

  “I don’t do favors.”

  “Fine. It’s an order then. I need you to fuck my cousin.”

  Aidan gawked at the princess for a moment before turning to his queen. That’s when they both laughed, and Rhiannon put her hand on Aidan’s shoulder.

  “What’s so funny?” Keita snapped.

  “Hard to say,” the queen replied. “There’s so much to choose from!”

  “First off,” Aidan explained, “I don’t take orders from you. Only my queen. And second, it’s funny that you’d think I’d put my friendship with Branwen the Awful in jeopardy for you.”

  “Don’t make me poison your food, Mì-runach.”

  “You will do no such thing!” the queen warned. “You will not harm a hair on his golden, perfect head.

  “Besides,” the queen went on, “why would you want someone—anyone—to do such a horrible thing to your own cousin?”

  “I expect him to make it good for her!” As if that excused everything. “But I need her distracted.” Keita stepped closer to them, glancing back to make sure Brannie and Ghleanna were still caught up in their own conversation. “You know how Brannie is with her ridiculous moral ground.”

  Aidan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Aye, such evil.”

  “Shut up,” the princess growled at him, before returning her focus to her mother. “I’m merely trying to keep Brannie from getting in my way.”

  “Then figure out another way,” the queen told Keita. “I will not have my dear Aidan’s heart broken because you can’t find another non-sexual or non-poisonous way to distract your cousin.”

  Aidan blinked. “My heart?”

  The queen patted his shoulder. “I’m saving you.” She leaned in and whispered, “She’s just like her mother, our Brannie is, and I don’t think you’d enjoy being one of many.”

  “Wait . . . what?”

  But before the queen could say more, Ghleanna returned with a clearly despondent but resigned Branwen behind her.

  “It’s settled,” the general informed the queen.

  “Good.” The queen stepped close to her niece. She raised her hand and gently pushed strands of black hair behind Brannie’s ear. “What you’re doing is more important than you realize, Branwen. And greatly appreciated.”

  Brannie nodded, her gaze down. “We’ll take care of it”—Brannie lifted her head, dark eyes locking with Rhiannon’s—“my queen.”

  Without another word, she walked off. But where she might be going, Aidan didn’t know. The queen still had to release them.

  Brannie seemed to realize that after a minute. She stopped, swung her arm wildly at the air, and bellowed, “Would someone mind letting me the battle-fuck out of here?”

  The queen leaned over and loudly whispered, “She’s also moody like her mother. . . .”

  Chapter Five

  “Why isn’t Uncle Gwenvael back yet?” Talwyn asked her father.

  “He’ll be along.”

  She didn’t trust her father’s glib reply but she was just so glad to see him, she decided not to argue. Instead she hugged him again and desperately attempted to ignore the ridiculous drama going on several feet from her.

  “Oh, Daddy!” Rhi cried. “It was horrible! Horrible!”

  “My poor, perfect, perfect daughter!” Uncle Briec glared over Rhi’s shoulder at Talwyn. “I thought I told you to protect my perfect offspring, demon child!”

  “She’s breathing, isn’t she?” Talwyn told him, one eyebrow purposely raised to antagonize him. Because, honestly, was all this necessary?

  Had her cousin been through a lot? Yes. Of course. Talwyn would never deny that. But she was still alive and breathing so all the sobbing and accusations were more than Talwyn would ever be willing to tolerate.

  “Of course,” she felt the need to add, “if you want your perfect, perfect daughter not to suffer, I can always put a pillow over her head when she’s asleep. And all her troubles will be gone”—she snapped her fingers—“like that.”

  Now she had father and daughter glaring at her.

  “Why do you have to be so horrible?” Rhi demanded, her arms still around her father’s big neck, her tiny feet miles from the ground because he was still holding her up like she was a fragile doll.

  The kind Talwyn had used for archery practice when she was a five-year-old.

  “Because my daddy loves me whether I’m perfect or not,” Talwyn replied. “So, I can be as horrible as I want.”

  Laughing, her father kissed the top of her head. “I adore you.”

  She shrugged at her cousin. “See?”

  Lips a thin, angry line, Rhi patted her father’s shoulder, telling him to let her down.

  He lowered her carefully—again, as if she were fragile glass. She smoothed the skirt she insisted on wearing over leather leggings and nodded at Talwyn’s father. “Uncle Fearghus.”

  He put his arm around his niece’s shoulders and hugged her close. “My little Rhi. I’m sorry you were hurt.”

  “I’m fine, Uncle. And thank you for caring,” she added, her eyes widening at Talwyn.

  “What did you want me to do while you were bleeding from the eyes? Lick it off?”

  “Och! You’re disgusting.”

  “And you’re a spoiled brat!”

  “I’m spoiled?”

  “Daddy!” Talan called out, barreling through the tent flap, arms spread wide, his trajectory straight for their father.

  But her father was fast as well and he held out his arm, palm up, his expression cautionary.

  “No,” Fearghus told Talan.

  “Just a hug.”

  “No.”

  “I bet you hugged Talwyn,” Talan accused.

  “I love her.”

  Talwyn laughed at that as Rhi quickly stepped between father and son. Although she didn’t really have to. Talan enjoyed tormenting their father with forced affection. It made Fearghus the Destroyer incredibly uncomfortable, and anything that made their stoic father uncomfortable entertained her brother endlessly.

  “We don’t have time for this,” Rhi announced. “We are in grave trouble here, and we need a plan. Yes?”

  Fearghus nodded. “There already is a plan.”

  Talan immediately looked at her, but all Talwyn could do was shrug at his unasked question.

  “What plan is that?” Talan asked.

  “We weren’t given full details. Not yet,” Briec admitted. “But it will involve our father. Bercelak the Great will be joining the battle.”

  There was a long moment of silence as the youngest of the family let the information their fathers had imparted to them sink in. Then they each had their own reaction.

  Talwyn swung her fist, gritted her teeth, and growled, “Yessssssss!”

  Talan cringed like he’d been kicked in the balls.

  And Rhi burst into copious tears, wailing, “Father, nooooooo!”

  * * *

  “They left us here to die,” Uther said again. “Where’s the loyalty?”

  “They left the horses. I’m sure they’ll be back.” Caswyn let his friend use his working arm to lift him up enough to get a drink of the stream water he so desperately needed.

  He was just about to take a sip when small hands slapped the metal cup from Uther’s hands.

  “Oy!” Uther barked, until he saw who stood before them. “Princess Keita?”

  “Don’t drink from the stream.” She held out her hand and snapped at Brannie and Aidan, who were walking toward them all—from where? Uther had no idea, but Aidan carried chain mail armor and boots. “Give me one of your canteens, Branwen.”

  Handing the canteen to Aidan, Brannie motioned for him to help Uther while she kept walking.

  And she continued walking until she reached the princess. That’s when she spun Keita around, slipped her hands under her arms, and lifted the princess off the ground until they were at eye level.

  “Don’t think for a momen
t, cousin, that you are in charge. Because you’re not.”

  “I’m a princess! And put me down, you giantess!”

  Brannie shook Keita hard, shocking the royal into near-silence.

  “Why, you—”

  “Listen well, cousin, this little adventure that is pulling me away from my troops, from my friends, and kin, will be run by me. The Mì-runach report to me. You report to me. That is the only way this is happening. If you fight me on this . . . if you get lippy, complain, try to poison us—”

  “I just saved them from poisoning!”

  “—or get on my nerves in any way—”

  “What?” Keita boldly demanded. “What will you do to me? Kill me? Scar me? Do you think there’s really anything that you, peasant, can do to me? A daughter of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar!”

  “I’ll tell your father . . . everything.”

  The princess, dangling from her much larger cousin’s hands, snorted a laugh.

  “Tell him what? My father has no delusions about me. He already knows everything about—”

  “He knows you poisoned him?”

  Keita’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. “Wha-what?”

  “Oh, yes. I know about that. All those days poor Uncle Bercelak was sick . . . after eating one of your victims.”

  “That was an accident.”

  “And poisoning a horse in the first place? What is wrong with you?”

  “I needed a test subject! It never occurred to me Daddy would eat it.”

  “You didn’t even tell him why he was sick.” She “tsk’d” her cousin. “How many elders did Uncle Bercelak kill thinking they were the ones who had him poisoned?”

  Keita’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t remember.”

  Brannie smiled. “I do. So let’s not forget our place, shall we? This is a military operation and royals don’t run those unless they are warriors like your brothers. Or a Battle Witch like your sister. So you, cousin, will do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Or Uncle Bercelak will find out what a bitch of a daughter he truly has. Understand?”

  “Perfectly.”

  Brannie pulled her hands back and the princess fell to the ground hard and on her ass.