Mortified, Izzy stil laughed. Out of everyone, Annwyl remained the one being who wasn’t Brannie who could make Izzy feel like everything—
eventual y—would be al right.
“So what do I need to know?” Annwyl asked her.
“Violence is back and safe. I put him up in his stables, got him a couple of sexy mares to keep him company. I think he’s a wee pissed at you that you went off without him, though.”
“He always gets that way when I leave him for too long. He’l get over it. I’l go see him after I eat.”
“Are you going to take him out? Because I haven’t had a chance to clean your saddle yet and it’s absolutely caked in blood—”
“Ralphie wil take care of it.”
“Ralphie?” Izzy lowered her spoon into her bowl of porridge, her heart plunging. “Your old squire?”
“He’s stil fat, but Violence likes him.”
“But—”
“Now don’t get upset. But honestly I don’t real y need a fit, fighting squire right now. I’m taking some time off. Going to be a proper queen for a bit and order others to kil for me. Just like your grandmum.”
Izzy sat back in her chair. “So it’s back to formation then? Just like that?” Gods! Where was the loyalty for duty served?
“Now don’t pout. And don’t whine. Besides,” the queen added, dropping her feet on the floor as a servant placed a steaming bowl of porridge on the table in front of her, “I don’t know any squire that has a rank of corporal. It would be unseemly. Nor do corporals go stomping around in formation, either.”
“Corporal?” Izzy sat up straight, eyes wide. “I’m . . . I’m a corporal?”
“You are now. Promotion effective immediately.”
“Brannie—”
“Her, too, but your grandfather is tel ing her. It’s al that Dragonwarrior stuff. And keep in mind, they’l probably be sending her off to Anubail Mountain for that training of theirs in the next few years. You’l need to make some other al ies for when she’s gone. Brastias wil let you know what your orders are in the next day or two.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “I’m pretty sure, though, you’re going to be named team leader of one of the four-man units going east in another month or two. But let Brastias tel you that and make sure to look surprised.” Her voice returned to normal.
“And don’t worry about your mum. She’l blame me anyway, and now that I’ve had some sleep, I think I’m up for a good, old-fashioned, verbal argument that doesn’t end with me taking anyone’s head.” She glanced off. “It’l be a nice change.” Izzy scrambled out of her chair and dived at Annwyl, almost knocking them both over, hugging her tight.
“Thank you, Annwyl!”
“You’ve earned this, Izzy.” She pushed Izzy back until she crouched in front of her. “I don’t know what I would have done without you, especial y these last couple of years. You protected me, protected your comrades, and fought like one of the gods of war. You stuck with me when everyone else thought I’d completely gone round the bend and made sure I got back here alive and wel to my children . . . to Fearghus. So thank you, Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith and Briec. Thank you for everything.”
“Annwyl—”
Brannie screaming Izzy’s name out in the courtyard cut off her next words and her queen grinned at her. “Go on. I’m sure your grandfather’s spoken to Brannie, and I know you two have some girlish squealing to do that wil only manage to set my nerves on edge.” Izzy nodded, then reached over and hugged Annwyl again, whispering, “I’m loyal to you until my last breath, my queen.”
“Gods, let’s hope that’s not for a very long time or I’l never hear the end of it from your mother!” Izzy laughed and Annwyl pushed her away. “Go. See Brannie before she pees her leggings in excitement.” With a nod, Izzy ran out the Great Hal doors, stopping at the top of the stairs. Brannie stood at the bottom, the pair staring at each other. They’d been through much together and Izzy knew that over the next few years they’d be separated, sent off on different assignments, different missions.
But they’d been a team that no one could touch and nothing would ever take away al they’d gone through.
At the same time, they both squealed and Izzy leaped down the stairs, slamming into Brannie, knowing the She-dragon was one of the few females who could handle that. Spinning in a circle while managing to jump up and down, they squealed more than seemed right that early in the morning. They squealed and squealed until Izzy heard her mother ask, “What’s going on?” At that point—they stopped squealing.
Annwyl was digging into her second bowl of porridge, trying desperately to ignore the squealing from outside when Dagmar made her way downstairs. Poor thing, she looked exhausted as she sat down across from Annwyl, the servants putting a large cup of tea in front of her.
“Morning, Dagmar.” Annwyl’s Battle Lord blinked, and squinted across the table at her. “Your spectacles,” Annwyl prompted.
“I must have forgotten them upstairs.”
“Actual y, they’re on top of your head, luv.”
Dagmar reached up, touching the smal round spectacles she wore except when she was asleep or reading. “Oh . . . there they are.” She placed them on, yawned.
“You al right?”
“Fine. Why?”
“Because you look like I guess I looked nearly two weeks ago.” She leaned in a bit. “Gwenvael missed you, didn’t he?”
“More than seems reasonably possible.”
Annwyl laughed, licking her spoon. “I think it’s cute and rather romantic.”
“And that’s why you can shut the battle-fuck up, my queen.”
Laughing harder, Annwyl reached into a bowl of raisins. She leaned her head back to drop a few into her mouth, and that’s when she saw Talaith standing next to her, seething, arms crossed over her chest.
Annwyl held out her hand. “Raisin?”
Talaith slapped the raisins from her hand. Honestly, no one respected royals anymore.
“You made that stupid, stupid girl a corporal?”
“She deserved it. Your daughter is one of the best soldiers I’ve ever had the honor of—ow! Let go my nose! Let go my nose!”
“You vicious, horrible, female!” Talaith slapped her own hand off, which hurt Annwyl’s nose more than she thought possible since it was stil a bit sore from being broken only a few days before. “I thought we were over with this insanity! That she’d come home—”
“She has!”
“—and that she’d stay for good.”
“Oh . . . yeah, that’s not happening. Ow! Let go my nose!”
“Talaith,” a new voice interjected, “you had to know this was going to happen. Izzy’s a natural.” They al looked down the length of the table at Keita.
“How long have you been sitting there?” Talaith asked, releasing Annwyl’s nose.
“Since you started yel ing at Lady Insanity.”
“That’s an unfair title. . . .” Annwyl muttered. “Mostly.”
“Gods, I’m starving.” Keita crinkled up what she referred to as her “adorable” nose. “I don’t want porridge, though.” She motioned to one of the servants. “Have any meat?” She whispered loudly, “Perhaps a little dog?”
“Don’t make me kil you,” Dagmar warned around a yawn. “I have no qualms about kil ing you.”
“Speaking of which,” Annwyl cut in. “Where are my dogs?”
“In their own kennel.” Dagmar glared at her. “They’d become unruly under your handling. They’re worse than your horse.”
“Because they know they’re better than everyone else.”
Morfyd walked into the Great Hal from the courtyard. “How wonderful!” she announced. “Izzy just told me the good . . .” Her words faded off when she saw Talaith glowering, and she finished with “. . . horrible, terrible news about her promotion. Just horrible.”
“That was smooth,” Keita sneered.
“Quiet, lizard!”
Dagmar pointed at Annwyl. “Do you realize that you have a big scar right across your face?”
“Yes.”
“Just going to leave it there, eh?”
“Why shouldn’t I? I think it’s stylish.”
“My father would like it,” Dagmar admitted. “Which does nothing but horrify me.”
“I like your father.”
“And that horrifies me more.”
“Is it true,” Talaith snarled, pul ing the chair beside Annwyl out and dropping into it, “that you took my daughter with you to see that murdering lowlife scum lord?”
Keita grinned. “We just cal him daddy.”
“Not that murdering lowlife scum lord,” Talaith snapped. “Gaius Domitus.”
“I did.” Annwyl looked at Dagmar. “He’l make a good al y. His sister, though . . .” She shuddered a bit. “She makes me look forgiving and benevolent.” She leaned forward. “Her flame is so hot . . . it can melt the scales of other Fire Breathers. It melted stone.” Morfyd rested her hands against the table. “Are you sure?”
“That’s what Rhona told me. Double-check with her.”
“Why does it matter?” Dagmar asked.
“I’ve just never heard of that before. Unless she’s a witch.”
“Not that I know of.” Annwyl ate a few more raisins. “Rhona also said that once the sister was released, the other Irons were terrified of her.”
“If she can melt the scales of other Fire Breathers . . . they should be afraid.”
“Yes, yes. That’s al quite fascinating, but . . .” Keita sat up a little tal er, fluffed her hair a bit. “Notice anything different?”
“Your h*ps getting wider?” Morfyd asked, which got her punched in the leg. “Ow! You viper!”
“Anything else?” Keita pushed them. “Anything new about me?”
They al shook their heads, not sure what the royal was talking about.
“This.” She smoothed her hand over the bare, unmarred flesh above her left breast, where her bodice slipped low.
“What about that?” Morfyd snapped. Back five minutes and the pair already going at it like pit dogs.
“Can’t you tel ?”
“Tel what?”
“This is where I’m going to al ow Ragnar to put his Claim brand upon me . . . when I’m ready to al ow him to do that . . . in a few years or so.”
“Years?” Annwyl asked.
“Uh-huh. Don’t you think this spot is perfect?”
They al stared at the smiling royal, their mouths slightly open, until Dagmar turned back to Annwyl and said, “So this Rebel King . . . a right bastard or is al that just legend?”
“A little of both, I think. And he’s young . . . for a dragon.”