And Dagmar was nowhere to be seen.
As Gwenvael stood there, dazed, Fearghus came out of another tunnel and walked up to him.
“Why are they all here?” Fearghus asked.
“I don’t know.”
“How do I get them to go away?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if I ‘shoo’ them?”
“They’re like crows. They’ll just come back.”
“Dammit.” Fearghus’s gaze searched the room. “And where’s Annwyl?”
As if summoned, she appeared from another corridor. “Found it.” She held the still blood-covered Minotaur blade up. Gwenvael had no doubt it would one day be mounted on a wall either here or at Garbhán Isle. “Nice, huh?” she said to Fal, who stood at the other end of the alcove.
He held his hands out. “Let me see.”
And that’s when Annwyl threw it. Across the room, past their aunt holding one twin and their uncle, holding the other. Fearghus made a strangled noise of panic and Gwenvael went to dive for the weapon, especially when he saw his newborn niece reach for the bloody thing.
But before either brother could do anything, Fal snatched the blade from the air. He weighed it with his hands. “It’s a nice one, all right.”
“Told you. I think I’m going to mount it over my throne.”
Panting, Fearghus looked at Gwenvael and he could only shrug.
“It’s going to be a long eighteen years, isn’t it, brother?”
Gwenvael patted Fearghus’s shoulder. “Aye, brother. It is.”
Lightnings! In the Southlands! Izzy had never been so excited. She nearly couldn’t eat her morning meal. But, she thought as she reached for another loaf of bread and the servants gave her another helping of porridge, no use in passing out from hunger at the Lightning’s feet.
That would definitely be embarrassing.
According to her grandmother, the Lightning would be coming this morning, and Izzy was putting off going flying with Branwen and Celyn just so she could meet him.
Purple! His hair would be purple!
She looked across the table at Éibhear. His hair was blue. A deep, dark, gorgeous blue. No, she doubted this Lightning would have hair as pretty as Éibhear’s, but she still had to see purple hair.
What a perfect morning this was turning out to be! Her queen was alive and well, the queen’s twins the same, and most of her family around her. “Most” because Annwyl and Fearghus were still at Fearghus’s den. So were most of the Cadwaladr Clan who wanted to see for themselves the twins were all right. Clearly they weren’t used to the darker side of Annwyl. But Izzy knew her queen would never harm her babes. Ever.
Also missing were Gwenvael and his Dagmar. She wondered if her uncle knew he was madly in love with that politician, as Briec called her. She doubted it. Males could be so stupid about that.
Again, she looked across the table at Éibhear. He seemed to be completely absorbed in the discussion between his parents and siblings, until he suddenly looked at her and crossed his eyes.
Trying not to laugh out loud, she put her head down only to have it snap back up again when her mother stormed into the Great Hall.
When Talaith left an hour earlier to “get some shopping done,” she was in high spirits with the knowledge that all she loved were safe. But Izzy knew her mother well now and could easily tell that something had upset her. The question was what?
Briec watched his mate storm in, his usually bored expression turning concerned. “Talaith?”
Talaith ignored him and kept coming—right over to Izzy. Latching on to Izzy’s arm, Talaith yanked her right out of her chair. “Mum!”
Without saying a word, Talaith grabbed hold of the left sleeve of Izzy’s shirt and yanked it off her shoulder. Her mother snarled at the bandage she saw there. A bandage Izzy had worn every day for the last few months.
Knowing what her mother was about to do, Izzy begged. “Mum … please.”
Her mother tore off the bandage, exposing the marked skin underneath.
“You stupid—”
“Mum!”
“—stupid girl!”
Now all her kin stood around her. All except Éibhear. He’d already known what Izzy had been hiding from everyone else. Had known from nearly the beginning, but she knew he hadn’t told her mother. She knew he’d never betray her that way. Not when he’d promised.
But someone had told Talaith.
“What the bloody hell is that?” her father demanded.
“Gods, Izzy. What have you done?” Morfyd asked, her voice more concerned than angry.
They all could see it. All knew what it was. The mark of Rhydderch Hael. Izzy was to be his champion one day. His warrior.
“I did what I had to do,” she said, trying to sound braver than she really felt. She didn’t even realize she’d begun to cry until she felt the tears slide down her neck.
“For him?” Her mother still had hold of Izzy’s arm and she shook her hard. “You did this for him?”
“I did this for you!” she yelled back, feeling hurt and angry and so very stupid. “He wouldn’t bring you back unless I became his champion. So I agreed. And I’d do it again!”
The sound of her mother’s palm colliding with her face echoed around the Great Hall.
Briec stepped between them, grabbing Talaith’s arms and pushing her back.
Izzy rested her hand against her cheek, but the pain she felt was nothing compared to the pain she knew she’d caused her mother.
Talaith yanked her arms away from Briec and stared at Izzy.
“You idiot child.” Her voice was so cold. “You don’t just hand your life over to someone to save another.”
“You did for me.”
“I’m your mother. I can do any damn thing I want.”
“But I—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Talaith walked away from her, stopping as she neared one of the back hallways. “I’ve been fighting all this time to protect you and all this time he’s had you anyway.”
“Mum, please!”
“Tell Brastias he can have her. He can send her wherever he wants, train her to be whatever he or her precious god wants. I no longer care.”
Without looking at Izzy again, Talaith stalked out.
Tears poured now, her sobs hurting her chest. She felt her father’s arms go around her, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want anything but to be left alone. She pulled away from him and ran, her Dragon Kin calling for her. She ignored them all and charged past the open gates.
* * *
Briec stood in the massive doorway of the Great Hall and debated.
Go after the hysterical daughter who’d given up her life to protect her mother or go after the devastated mother who’d given up her life to protect her daughter?
Dammit! His existence was much easier when he only had to worry about what to kill for dinner.
“Leave them be,” Rhiannon said behind him. “They’ll work it out.”
“Like you and Keita?”
“She’s breathing, isn’t she? Besides Morfyd said she’s gone back to her den, so she’s fine. And your Talaith and Izzy will be fine. They just need to work this out.”
“But when they’re unhappy, I’m unhappy.” He looked over his shoulder at his parents and siblings. “And that’s unacceptable to me.”
Éibhear let out a disgusted groan. “What is wrong with you?”
“Nothing.”
“My Lord Briec.”
Frowning at the title usage, Briec faced Brastias. “General. You’ve brought a friend.”
Brastias glanced at the cloaked male behind him. “This is Lord Ragnar. He said your mother told him he could come to meet with her. Apparently he’s from the Northlands.”
“Aye, I can smell the difference.”
The Lightning pulled the hood of his cloak back and grinned at Briec, not appearing remotely offended. “Good morning to you, Fire Breather.”
“Lightning.” Briec glanced at his kin. “Mother, our mortal enemy is here for tea and biscuits.”
* * *
Dagmar escaped talks of weapons and Minotaurs in Fearghus’s den by simply walking away and leaving the cave.
It was a beautiful day with the two suns shining brightly overhead. Yet a cooling breeze coming in from the east kept her from sweating, which she appreciated.
She strolled aimlessly among the thick foliage of Dark Glen, enjoying the quiet and the freedom.
“That dress looks very nice on you.”
Dagmar stopped and examined the dress Annwyl had found for her among Fearghus’s treasure. It was a simple frock with long sleeves and a neckline just below her collarbone, so she didn’t feel choked but she didn’t feel like a whore either. It was also grey, which pleased her the most. She had no desire to wear bright colors and was glad the queen hadn’t asked her to.
“Thank you.” Lifting her head she looked up at the top of a big boulder. The goddess sat on it casually, one arm resting on her raised knee. She wore no cape today and her padded shirt this time was sleeveless. The brown skin of her arms was covered in dragon brands, rune tattoos, and scars. She looked decidedly larger this time. Taller and wider.
“Hello, Eir,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you, my friend.”
Eir’s wolf companion pressed against Dagmar’s side until she stroked his rough fur. “And you must be …” she thought back to her knowledge of the different pantheons. “Nannulf, Battle Guardian of war dogs!”
“That’s very good,” Eir commended. “We have been friends a very long time, he and I.” Eirianwen, one of the most feared and violent goddesses in the known world, slid down the boulder and dropped to the ground beside Dagmar. “He’s always liked you. Likes the way you train your dogs. You miss them, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“And they you. Of course, you can breed and raise dogs anywhere. Annwyl, she has no battle dogs. Not any real ones. Just blokes bringing their own pets with them into battle.”
“That’s my understanding. And I can always send Annwyl a breeding pair.”
“That’s one option.”
Dagmar scratched a spot on Nannulf that had the whole wolf-god’s body happily wiggling.
“Do I have other options?”
Eir placed a disturbingly large hand on Dagmar’s shoulder. “Knowledge always allows for other options.”
“Weren’t you missing that finger?” Dagmar asked, staring at Eir’s hand.
She raised her arm, wiggled her fingers. “They grow back … for me anyway.”
“It must be nice to be a god.”
“It has its moments. And stop trying to get me off the subject. You know what I’m trying to tell you.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to stay with Gwenvael.”
Eir clapped her hands together, her grin wide. “But he likes you so much!”
“I find it horrifying that the most feared and deadly god of war is a romantic at heart.”