“Lovely, isn’t she?” another voice said beside Fearghus. “My Morfyd.”
Fearghus rol ed his eyes at Annwyl’s general and Morfyd’s mate, sitting on his horse, gazing lovingly at Fearghus’s sister.
“How did we do?”
“Most are dead,” Brastias told him. “I sent a few squads out to track down any runners.”
“No prisoners?”
“You know Annwyl hates prisoners. She’d rather just kil them al . Besides”—he shrugged—“we don’t have to worry about feeding anyone and we’l only have to kil them later. So it’s a waste of time to keep them alive now.”
“Do me a favor, Brastias. Get Morfyd for me.”
“Of course.” The general smiled. “You have no idea how grateful I am to see you alive and wel , Lord Fearghus.” Fearghus laughed. “Real y? I never thought you’d have cared one way or the other.”
“Oh, I care. The entire Queen’s Army cares whether you live or die, my lord. Trust me, it would have been a dark day for me and mine if anything had happened to you. A dark day indeed.”
Brastias spurred his horse forward and rode over to the stil -arguing females.
“Morfyd?” the human cal ed up to his mate, not seeming intimidated by her much-larger dragon form. “Love? Can I talk to you for a moment?”
“Yes! Rescue me from this ungrateful wench!”
Morfyd stomped away and Annwyl flicked her middle and forefinger in his sister’s direction before she went back to the rather mindless task of finishing off the enemy soldiers who were already dying but hadn’t quite crossed over yet. She used a spear and was efficient in ending the men, severing the spine from the head. Probably taught to her by Ghleanna.
Fearghus watched his mate a moment longer. It had been five years since he last saw her. Five years since he last touched her, kissed her, f**ked her, saw her smile, told her to calm down, yanked a weapon from her hands before she hurt someone, or stopped her from getting in a pit brawl with her own daughter. It had been too long since he’d done al that and it was a bit overwhelming to be here now, so close to her after al this time.
Annwyl slammed her spear into another Sovereign, then leaned against it, wiping her brow with the back of her hand and looking out over al the bodies she and her troops had left behind.
She looked rather proud.
Deciding he could wait no longer, Fearghus walked toward her, his claws stepping on corpses but he didn’t real y care. Most of them were the enemy anyway.
When he was close, he said, “Annwyl.”
Her whole body tensed and, slowly, she faced him. He saw the new scar that cut across her entire face. He found it disturbingly sexy and couldn’t wait until they were alone and he could lick the damn thing from one end to the other. Yet Annwyl gazed at him for so long, Fearghus became concerned. Why hadn’t she said anything?
But then, suddenly, Annwyl the Bloody burst into tears. Not simple crying, but ful -on sobs. Sobs so hard they racked her entire body, dropping her to her knees, her hand stil clinging to that spear.
Fearghus shifted and went to her. He reached down and lifted her to her feet, removed the spear from her hands and tossed it aside.
He pul ed her into his arms and held her. She clung to him, her arms around his waist, her head against his chest, her tears dripping down his body to mingle with the blood on the battlefield.
As they held each other, there in the middle of al that carnage, Fearghus whispered, “I missed you too, Annwyl.”
“King Gaius?”
Gaius pushed one of his uncle’s soldiers off his sword and faced the dragon behind him.
“Ragnar of the Olgeirsson Horde. Brother to Vigholf.”
“Yes. Vigholf helped save my sister,” Gaius admitted. “I owe him and the others much. Is that why you’re here, Lightning? Payment?”
“No. But how much were you thinking?”
Gaius stared at him until the Northlander smiled. “I’m kidding. I’m actual y here to talk al iance. Thracius is dead, but his direct bloodline lives on.”
“Like my cousin Vateria, you mean?”
“Do you think she’s a real threat?”
“Although she may not be as schooled in military strategy as her father—she’s a serious threat.”
“Then let’s talk.”
“Fine. But I can’t stay long. My sister is alone and although it took us seconds to get here, we have a long way to travel back.”
“Seconds? How did you get here?”
“It’s . . . complicated.”
“The gods sent you?” the Northlander asked.
“Oh . . . so not that complicated.”
“Not to us, no.”
Vigholf found Rhona sitting on the ground, her back against a tree. She drank from her water flask and tried to wipe blood off her chin with a dirty cloth.
“Why did your mother just cal me a manipulative bastard?” he asked.
“Because you are?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why did your mother—”
“Oh, ignore her.” She patted the ground beside her. “Sit with me. Things are just about to get interesting.” He sat down, moving in so his hip pressed into hers. “Interesting how?”
“You’l see.”
“Where’s Éibhear?”
“Off. Not wil ing to talk to anyone.” She shook her head—Vigholf sensed a little sadness and a little awe in that one move. “When he final y snapped, he real y snapped.”
“He’l be al right,” Vigholf assured her. “Just give him some time.”
“I don’t know. He seems truly devastated about Austel .”
“We’ve al lost comrades in battle, Rhona. And we al handle it. He wil , too. He’s just young. It wil take him some time. And the last thing he needs is more females babying him.”
“I’m one female who has never babied Éibhear. I’m here to keep him alive, not be his mother.” She patted his thigh. “Oh! It’s about to start.”
“What? What’s about to start?”
Ragnar was standing not ten feet away, talking to Gaius. It was easy to see his brother was making another al y. He was good with that.
But stalking up to Ragnar and Gaius, looking quite unhappy was Briec. Izzy was behind him, trying her best to calm him down, but it didn’t seem to be working.
“Is this about Gaius?” he asked Rhona.
“No. Not at al .” She offered him some dried beef and kept watching.
When Briec reached Ragnar and Gaius, he shoved Ragnar. “You smarmy bastard! No wonder my sister picked you for her mate!” Vigholf winced. “Guess he found out about the Tribesmen attack on Garbhán Isle.”
“And you would be guessing correctly.”
“You told him, didn’t you? About everything.”
“He demanded a ful report—I gave him one.”
“But, Rhona—”
“He outranks me,” she argued. “I have to fol ow orders.”
Vigholf took a moment to eye the She-dragon. “Centaur shit, you vindictive harpy.”
“After sending us off with Keita, involving us in one of her insane schemes—your brother deserves every bit of this.”
“Your cold, inflexible heart makes me burn to be inside you.”
“Charmer.”
He laughed until he saw Fearghus and Annwyl walking up to Briec and the others, Gwenvael behind them.
“What’s going on?” Fearghus asked his brother.
“Garbhán Isle has been under attack for days by Tribesmen. Days! And this idiot knew and he said nothing!”
“Does this mean we’re going home?” Gwenvael asked, sounding eager.
Annwyl flinched and, after looking at Vigholf and Rhona, eased behind her mate’s back. She’d known about the attack since they were at the Sovereign camp and yet she’d decided to go on and get Gaius. But she’d been right. They’d needed Gaius and his soldiers or they would have been overrun by Thracius’s troops. Of course, they al thought Gaius was there to kil Thracius himself . . . but that job turned out to be Éibhear’s.
“How could you not tel us?” Fearghus demanded.
“So we’re going home, yeah?” Gwenvael pushed.
“Look,” Ragnar began, “Keita thought—”
“When exactly did our sister start thinking?” Briec shoved Ragnar again. “And when did you start listening, you twat?”
“If you push me again—”
“You’l what, barbarian? What exactly wil you do?”
Rhona yawned and rested her head on Vigholf’s shoulder. “I was hoping to get some sleep, but it seems like we’l be heading back to Dark Plains tonight.”
“I think you’re right.”
“So where do we go from here?”
“I’m in love with you, Rhona. Wherever you go, I’m with you.”
She raised her head, looked him in the eye, and smiled. It was the sweetest smile he’d seen in a very long time.
“And what are you two doing?” Briec snarled at them.
“Oy!” Rhona yel ed back. “Back off, royal! I’m off duty!”
Gwenvael jumped between them. “Home!” he yel ed. “We’re al going home! Now! So let’s make that happen. Right now! Everyone, move . . .
move!”
Briec, Ragnar, and Fearghus backed away from their brother while Gwenvael walked off, ordering the troops to get ready to move out.
“Gwenvael really wants to go home,” Vigholf observed.
“My cousin hasn’t f**ked a female since the last time he saw his mate. And that was what? Three years ago? No sex for Gwenvael is like no food. The dragon’s starving and al he wants is his steak.”
“Speaking of which,” Vigholf glanced around. “While everyone is breaking camp, maybe you and I can find a quiet place to—”
“Why aren’t you two moving?” Gwenvael screamed at them. “Move, damn you! Move! ” Laughing, Rhona got up and brushed the dirt off. “Let’s go before my cousin’s mind explodes. Besides, you need to think of what you’re going to tel Daddy when we get back to Garbhán Isle.”
“Tel him? Why do I have to tel your father—with the enormously large arms, expert skil with al weapons, and the ability to spray me with lava—
anything?”
“Because you love me and Daddy loves me. So you better find a way to keep him from pul ing your head right off your body.” Vigholf stood. “Al right. I wil . But at least make it worth it for me, Rhona.”
“Make it worth it?”
“Don’t tease, female. Tel me you love me.”
“I’l do better than that. I told me mum I love you. My mother. Bradana the Mutilator who has the horns of several Lightnings decorating her armor.” He grinned and they headed toward the troops to help those leaving with them in the next few hours get ready. “And what did she say to you?” Because he already knew what Bradana had to say to him.