“Right. The Rebel King. You rescued my sister, Agrippina,” Gaius said with a sweeping gesture to the female standing behind him, “fought by my side in battle and together our armies destroyed Overlord Thracius. That Rebel King.”
“Yeah, yeah. I remember.” She studied him for a long moment before asking, “Were you always missing that eye?”
“Annwyl!” Dagmar barked, her small body now standing in front of the Iron as if trying to protect him.
“It’s a fair question! I mean, did I take it myself? Because that could be awkward!”
“No,” the Iron replied. “You didn’t take my eye. I’m not sure why you’d think you had.”
“I had a lot going on then,” Annwyl admitted. “I was killing and dismembering people all over the place. Your eye could have definitely been a casualty.” She smiled. “Glad to know it wasn’t me, though.”
Dagmar faced the Iron, quickly bowed her head. “King Gaius, I’m sorry about the confusion. I’m Dagmar Reinholdt, Vassal of Garbhán Isle and Battle Lord—”
“And my piece of ass!” Gwenvael announced from the other end of the table while he dropped into one of the chairs. “So keep your grubby Sovereign claws off her.”
“—and,” Dagmar continued desperately, “I’d like to welcome you and your companions to Garbhán Isle. If you don’t mind staying human, there are rooms here, but we do have some lovely caves—”
“Rooms are fine,” the Iron cut in, his glower still on Annwyl. “But we really came here to meet with Bram the Merciful.”
“Izzy,” Brastias cut in, “said she’d make sure to have him sent here.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Brastias. While you’re waiting, my lord,” Dagmar offered, “why not take a few minutes to freshen up after your long journey in one of the available guest rooms? We can have some food sent up or you can eat down here—and who let this disgusting animal in the house?”
Izzy’s dog immediately sat, slobber-filled tongue hanging out of his mouth as he gazed up at her.
“Izzy left him to watch out for our visitors while she handled some other . . . things,” Brastias explained.
“Well . . . he smells. So could you please put him outside . . . or in a pit somewhere. Perhaps a shallow grave.”
“Not sure Izzy will like that last one, but I’ll see what I can do.” Brastias grabbed a piece of bread from the table and swiped it by the dog’s nose. “Come on, boy.”
Since the dog would and did eat anything, he immediately followed.
Dagmar let out a breath and again focused her attention on the royals. “Now . . . where was I?”
“You were welcoming us to Garbhán Isle.”
“Oh. Right.”
Éibhear escorted them to the table, got them seated, then proceeded to pour them tea. When he was done with that, he put out a plate of sweet biscuits and sat down at the table. He smiled at them. “Now isn’t this better?”
“Much,” Rhi said, sipping her tea. “Thank you, Uncle Éibhear.”
“You’re welcome.”
Izzy slammed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” Éibhear asked.
“This,” she said, dropping her hands and looking over Éibhear and her sister. “This is what’s wrong with our family.”
“Our love of tea?”
“No.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “The fact that we don’t address anything directly.”
“I didn’t say we couldn’t address anything. I just think we should do it over tea.”
“It’s soothing,” Rhi added.
The two smiled at each other again and Izzy decided that was it.
Pushing back her chair, she stood. “Get up. Let’s go.”
Éibhear’s eyes narrowed. “Go where?”
Bram the Merciful decided to meet with King Gaius and his sister up in their room. After what he’d heard from the Cadwaladrs about the latest event between the Southland queens and the Kyvich witches, he knew that energy levels would be high. With high energy levels came ridiculous arguments, violent outbursts, and fistfights. Always with the fistfights. It still amazed him that although the Cadwaladrs were the low-born battle dogs of the Southland dragons, it was the ones who were heirs to the Dragon Queen’s throne who were the most violent and unpredictable.
He didn’t need any of that sort of thing around the current ruler of at least part of the Quintilian Provinces.
Since the war against Overlord Thracius had ended, Gaius Domitus and his twin sister, Princess Agrippina, had taken over rule, but those who once ruled with Overlord Thracius, especially one of his sons, refused to bow down to the Rebel King. So the Provinces had become divided and a constant civil war had been going on since. Bram knew well the reputation of Thracius’s son and he knew that Queen Rhiannon could not afford for the Rebel King to lose. Any offspring of Thracius’s was a danger to the safety of the Southland dragons, something Bram was not about to forget or dismiss.
“What is it you need from us, King Gaius?”
“Gaius, please.” The young dragon dropped into a chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked exhausted, probably having come to the conclusion that obtaining rule was one thing, keeping it something else altogether. “I don’t really have the luxury of niceties at the moment.” He glanced at his sister, motioned to the bed. “Sit down, Aggie, before you drop.”
The dragoness glanced at Bram before asking her brother, “Are you really sure we’re safe here? That crazy woman didn’t even remember us. And we’ve never met the Dragon Queen, so she and her offspring have no reason to feel the need to—”
“You’re safe here, my lady,” Bram promised. “On my honor and my name, you, your brother, and the soldiers you’ve brought with you will be kept safe and protected as long as you’re in Garbhán Isle.”
“Yes, but . . .” She sat down on the bed, her body turned toward Bram. “The human queen. Can she be trusted?”
“Aggie—”
“She didn’t even remember your name, Gaius.”
“Annwyl doesn’t care,” Bram admitted.
Lady Agrippina blinked. “Pardon?”
“She doesn’t care. About you. About your brother. About your problems in the west. She doesn’t care.”
“Then why are we here? And how are we safe?”
“Oh, you couldn’t be safer.”
The twins frowned at the same time and Bram explained, “What I mean is Annwyl does not care about politics. Who’s in charge and where, means nothing to her. But if you’re a threat, she’ll destroy you. If you’re an ally, she’ll protect you with her life.”
“Even though she doesn’t seem to remember us?” the king asked.
“Annwyl remembers bloodshed. And fights. And betrayal. So, you really don’t want her to remember you when she’s not seeing you every day.”
“Oh,” Lady Agrippina said, the sarcasm heavy, “well, that makes me feel better.”
“You’re under the protection of both queens, no one will touch you. Now tell me what you need.”
The two Iron dragons looked at each other and some unspoken communication passed between them. Then the king said, “Is there a way you can get me or our representatives into the Desert Lands?”
“Not without many months, possibly years, of treaty negotiations. The current treaty we have with the Sand dragons took me a decade and even then . . . the signing was not a simple thing. May I ask why you’d need to go into the Desert Lands?”
Again, the twins looked at each other. After a moment, Agrippina admitted, “Our spies tell us that our cousin Vateria is now in the Desert Lands.”
“Is Vateria still considered a threat?”
“Oh, yes. She has every intention of getting the Provinces back under her family’s banner and she’ll do anything necessary to make that happen.”
“You’re worried about the Sand dragons striking against your troops?”
The king nodded. “We are. Any relationship we’d hoped to have with the Sand dragons was destroyed by our uncle during the early years of his reign.”
“Aye. I remember. He kidnapped and killed one of the old king’s daughters. The late King Abasi.”
“Exactly.” The king looked at his sister. “Perhaps I can get in there. Undetected.”
“I wouldn’t suggest that, my lord,” Bram said in his most soothing I-want-Rhiannon-not-to-kill-everyone-in-the-cavern voice. “The Sand dragons are not to be trifled with.”
“I’m not going there for the Sand dragons. I’m going there for my little traitor of a cousin.”
“I understand but—”
“You understand nothing. She . . . tortured my sister. For months.” The king glanced at her, but she was staring out the window. “For that alone—”
“Tell me, my lord, is this about protecting your people and your reign or getting even with the dragoness who abused the sister you love?”
“Does it matter?”
She’d blocked him, so it took some time for Talan to track down his sister. He should have known to look in the trees. Since she could walk, she’d spent most of her days in the trees. It had always driven their nanny, Ebba, insane. She was a centaur and climbing trees, no matter her form, was not one of her favorite activities.
Ebba. He missed her. Although she planned to come back, she’d gone home for three months because her father was unwell. A shame really. She’d always had a way with Talwyn and, most importantly, kept the Kyvich leader at bay.
But all that was meaningless now, wasn’t it? Because his sister had made up her mind. And, like the two suns in the sky, that was something that would never be changed.
Talan grabbed hold of the lowest branch and pulled himself up into the old tree. He climbed until he reached the branch his sister sat on. He dropped down next to her, letting out a relaxed sigh once he was comfortable.
“So were you going to let Odda kill our mother or just let her wound her grievously instead?”
“Mum’s not exactly a weak flower.”
“Mum’s not a witch either. Like a pit dog, she’ll fight anyone, but that doesn’t mean she should. And it’s not like she and Odda got along in the first place.”
“It wasn’t that bad.”
“Mum kept calling Odda The Twat.”
“She calls everyone she doesn’t like The Twat. Especially men.”
Talan studied his sister. “So you’re really going to do this?”
“I have to.”
“Oh? Has someone put a crossbow to your head?”
“You may be against this, but I’m sure Mum will get over it.”
“It’s not Mum I’m worried about. It’s Rhi. We both felt the power of what she was unleashing at the training ring. If we hadn’t been there—”