“I think,” he began, “that you misunderstand my presence here, mistress. I am Éibhear the Contemptible, Son of—”
“I don’t care,” the witch cut in. “A gift is a gift.” That face that looked so much like Talaith’s turned cruel when she spit out, “We’ll have such wonderful use for your bones.”
One of the witches near him swung out her arm and something wrapped around Éibhear’s neck, yanking him back. He gripped at it, but he only felt his own scales. Yet he knew something had hold of him, was pulling him away from Izzy.
Another witch stepped forward and she swung her arm out. Something caught hold of his legs and yanked them out from under him. Éibhear ended up on his belly, slowly being dragged off somewhere.
Haldane looked at her granddaughter. “As for you,” she sneered and flicked her hand again. Izzy’s entire body lifted and flew back as if flung by the gods themselves.
Mum! Éibhear called to his mother. Mum! Izzy needs you!
Haldane looked at him. “Call to your mummy all you want, dragon. She’ll never hear you. She’ll never find what’s left of you.” She jerked her head toward the back of the big room. “Take him downstairs and get him ready. There’s a full moon tonight. I plan to take full advan—”
Haldane’s words were cut off as a giant piece of statue flipped across the hall and rammed into the witch’s chest, shoving her back and to the floor.
“Haldane!” one of the witches screamed out.
Izzy walked back into the room and she looked . . . very angry. But not only that, there was something else....
Éibhear squinted, looked closer. Something was sparking off Izzy’s body. And she was angry enough, he could easily believe it was coming simply from her rage. Yet he didn’t think so.
Another witch rushed to stand in front of a groaning Haldane, several others hurrying to their fallen leader’s side to help her. The witch raised her hand, pointed her finger. She began to chant words Éibhear didn’t understand, had never heard. And power roared up from her body and flew out of her hand, hitting Izzy right in the chest.
Izzy stopped, waved her hands and the energy that had slammed into her was tossed away. It reminded Éibhear of those times the Mì-runach would get drunk and play “war in the snow.” They’d toss giant balls of snow at each other and one would simply flick the ice and snow off his body before grabbing more snow and building another ball to retaliate with. That’s what Izzy was doing.
This Magick . . . it didn’t touch her. It didn’t hurt her. Not the way it was supposed to. Not the way it would hurt anyone else.
Instead, the Magick seemed to be doing something else to Izzy. It made her stronger. Éibhear didn’t think that strength would last, but it was giving her enough power to move forward. Guards that would give their lives to protect the Nolwenns suddenly appeared, running in from hidden doorways, weapons out and at the ready. They charged Izzy and she unsheathed her sword and axe. With both hands, she tore into those attacking guards. Blood and pieces of those men flew around the hall, splattering all that beautiful marble and the witches who maintained it.
Izzy cut her way through those guards and over to Éibhear. Dropping her weapons, she used her bare hands to reach down and pull off the bonds he’d been unable to see or feel. She released him and he got to his claws.
More guards ran in and Éibhear unleashed flames that burned the flesh from their bones and turned them to ash where they stood.
“Enough!” Haldane’s voice rang out. Three witches had helped her to her feet, their hands keeping her steady.
She eyed Izzy and finally said, “Your mother.”
Izzy stepped in front of Éibhear. “My mother what?”
“She did this. She protected you while you were still in the womb. From us. From other witches. When Magick strikes you, it does nothing but give more strength to those oversized muscles you have.” Haldane gave a soft laugh. “My child was always smarter than she pretended to be.”
“Because she knew you’d try to destroy me.”
“If I could have rung your neck before you took your first breath . . . I would have. And she knew it.”
“You could always try now. I’m right here.”
“That will be unnecessary,” another voice chimed in and all the witches fell to their knees—even Haldane. The older woman walked from behind Éibhear, smiled at him and Izzy. “Hello to you both.”
“Who are you?” Izzy demanded.
“The name is Elisa. I’m a Nolwenn Elder.” She leaned in and whispered to Izzy—although Éibhear could hear her well enough—“And your great grandmother.”
Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “You must be a million years old.”
“Izzy.”
She looked up at Éibhear. “What?”
Izzy could see some of Talaith in this witch’s face. Not as much as there was in Haldane’s, but she could see the resemblance. In her eyes, her cheekbones.
“Mum never mentioned you.”
“She had no reason to. I gave her little thought. I assumed that she, like her mother, like my mother, like I, would follow the path of the Nolwenn. What was there for me to do with her until she was older and had some real power?”
“Because she’s your blood? Because you are her grandmother?”
Elisa laughed. “You are truly your mother’s child.”
“And proud of it.”
“I know. I can see it. Feel it even.”
She motioned to the witches and guards filling the hall. “All of you . . . out.”
“My lady—” one of them began, but dark brown eyes unfaded by age locked on the witch and she immediately closed her mouth and bowed her head.
“Don’t make me say it again,” Elisa ordered. It took less than a minute for that chamber to clear out.
The witch faced them. “Tea?”
“Ooh,” Éibhear said. “I’d love a cuppa.”
Izzy spun around, her hands raised, her mouth open, top lip curled.
“What?” Éibhear demanded. “I like tea!”
Chapter 37
Izzy was still nursing her first cup of tea while Éibhear—now in his human form and dressed—and Elisa were well into their second. The witch had also pulled out biscuits and she was pleasant enough, but, at the moment, it meant nothing to Izzy. Nothing. Not after what had just happened between Izzy and her grandmother. That horrid bitch. Izzy had always known that woman wasn’t worthy of having even a second of Rhi’s precious time. But then Izzy kept going back to the bigger issue of what Rhi did need in her life.
“Your rage comes off you in waves, Iseabail.”
Izzy looked up at her great grandmother, Elisa. Based on what she could guess, Elisa was a good six hundred years old, and yet she looked no more than fifty winters or so. Izzy had to admit . . . she liked the idea of going into her sixth- or seven-hundredth winter looking this good.
Other than that, though, she was just pissy about the whole thing.
“I hated that woman before I ever saw her,” Izzy said plainly, “and now I hate her even more.”
“You’re so like your mother. She was honest like you.”
“She still is.”
“And Haldane hated her for it.”
“Then I’m glad I could carry on my mother’s legacy.”
“So am I. Of course, I never liked my daughter much either. So it seems you’re carrying on my legacy as well.” She held up a plate. “Biscuits?”
Izzy took the plate from her and threw the whole thing against the wall. Biscuits and all.
“Oy!” Éibhear snapped. “I was going to eat those.”
When Izzy glowered at him, he quickly added, “Well . . . they did look a bit dry.”
“Don’t worry,” Elisa said with a smile. “I have more.” She stood and went to a small cabinet in what Izzy assumed was her study. There were books from floor to ceiling and crates filled with witch supplies. At least that’s what she guessed they were since the materials looked like the kinds of things that she’d seen her mother and Morfyd using every full moon.
Elisa came back to the table and placed another plate of biscuits in front of Éibhear. Once done, she sat at the table, her smile still in place.
“So,” Elisa said, acting as if Izzy’s temper hadn’t snapped like a twig, “you want us to take little Rhianwen in.”
“She’s not an orphan I’m trying to palm off on you lot.”
“No. She’s a powerful being that you have no control over.”
Izzy studied her great grandmother. “Maybe.”
“But you think we can help with that?”
“My mother thinks you can. I have no idea what you can do.”
“We can teach your sister to control the power within her. We can make her safe to be around those she loves.”
“And you know all this . . . how?”
“Your sister’s power radiates for thousands of leagues. Even the mages as far off as the Eastlands feel her power—and fear it.”
“So you’re going to try to make her a Nolwenn then?”
“That’s the one thing I can assure you will never happen.”
Feeling slightly insulted, Izzy had to ask, “And why is that?”
“I was born to this life, Iseabail. So were Haldane and your mother. And, if Talaith had stayed, she’d be a Nolwenn. Trained in the arts from birth. But your sister, like you, can’t jump in now. She’s sixteen winters, past her first blood—”
“And trained to be a free-thinking human being who can make her own decisions?”
Elisa smiled. “Some might say. Really, Iseabail, it’s about preparing your sister for something beyond these grand walls. That is . . . if we decide to help her.”
“Why wouldn’t you help her? Because I’d happily cut your daughter’s thro—”
Éibhear suddenly coughed, pointed at his throat. “Biscuit went down the wrong way.” He glared at Izzy and practically snarled between clenched teeth, “Sorry.”
“Your feelings about my daughter, Iseabail, are expected and, I’m sorry to say, quite natural. She was abhorrent to my grandchild, but Haldane has always been stubborn.”
“I’m stubborn. She’s a twa—”
Another cough cut into her words. “Another biscuit struggling down your gullet?” Izzy asked sweetly.
“They’re a little dry.”
Izzy focused on Elisa. “What do you want? Because I know you want something.”
The witch rested her arms on the table and leaned in. Her smile reminded Izzy of her mum but without that warmth Izzy had always taken comfort in. “I’ll take your sister in, ensure her safety, and have her trained, but there’s a task.”
“Of course there is.” Izzy sighed loudly. “Who do I have to kill?”
“This task isn’t for you.” Elisa focused on Éibhear. “It’s for you.”