by G. A. Aiken
Talaith walked back to the big front doors and stepped out onto the steps. A servant was walking up, smiling and nodding at Talaith.
“My Lady Talaith.”
“Hello, Jenna. Is something going on?”
“M’lady?”
Talaith gestured with her hand at the empty courtyard. “It’s so quiet today. No one around. Just wondering if I’d missed news of a street fair in town or something.”
“No, m’lady.”
“All right. Thank you, Jenna.”
“Of course, m’lady.”
Crossing her arms over her chest, Talaith shook her head. “Living my life with these dragons and Annwyl has made me paranoid and unreasonably crazy.”
She turned to go back inside when . . . wait . . . wait . . .
Talaith spun back, her arms tightening around her body, her gaze searching.
It was like a blanket had settled over her, muting everything around her. She doubted anyone else would notice it. It was magickal and powerful. Extremely powerful.
She couldn’t touch it.
Talaith closed her eyes and called out to Rhiannon, but there was nothing.
But . . . but perhaps Rhiannon had noticed on her own.
Of course. She must have noticed. What could possibly distract her from something so dangerous?
“You are ridiculous,” Rhiannon accused her sister-by-mating as they stood by Rhiannon’s throne. “I am not after your mate. I adore dear Bram, but it’s not like that.”
“Then why are you always hugging him? Throwing your scales at him.”
“I am doing no such thing!” Rhiannon snapped back as she waved her claws at what felt like bugs or something buzzing around her face.
“That’s what it looks like to me!”
“My good ladies,” one of the Elders tried to interrupt, but he quickly stepped back when the tips of two tails slashed at him, nearly taking his snout off.
“Keep out of this,” Rhiannon ordered before focusing again on Ghleanna. “And trust me, sister, if I wanted your mate, I would have had him a long time ago.”
Ghleanna’s snout twitched before she growled, “You haughty cow.”
Celyn caught up with Stenam’s son and the boy’s friends about a mile or so outside of town.
“Hello, Robert,” Celyn called out with a wave.
“Hello, Lord Celyn!”
The boys ran over to Celyn, and he crouched in front of them, all about ten to twelve years old, and covered in a good amount of dirt from their play.
Celyn leaned in and said in a low voice, “I heard you’ve been spying a bit. On the search for evil, eh?”
“We have. We don’t like the look of these new people coming in and out of town, do we, boys?”
The boys all nodded in agreement.
“So what have you seen? Anything strange?”
“Nothing at first. Some of the new people went right to Queen Annwyl’s Tower of Death for work with the stonemason.” Celyn didn’t even bother to waste time cringing at that, and instead let the boy continue. “But then we started noticing that some of the men . . . they were handing off notes.”
“Notes?”
“Little scrolls with red ribbons on them. They’d walk by someone and it was like they’d bumped into each other. But we noticed—”
“I noticed,” said one of the boys.
“—that they were handing these scrolls off to each other.”
Celyn slowly nodded his head as he did his best to remain calm. Then he took a breath and leaned in to whisper to the boys, “You lot didn’t happen to get your hands on one of those little scrolls . . . did you?”
When the boys suddenly began staring at their booted feet, Celyn knew he’d been right.
“Lads?”
“The man read it and as he was walking he went to put it in his pouch,” Robert rambled, “but it . . . uh . . . it fell out. We didn’t steal it or anything.”
“Of course you didn’t. But I do need to see it. In the name of the queen.”
“In the name of Queen Annwyl herself?” Robert asked, his eyes wide.
Sure. Why not? “Absolutely.”
Robert jabbed another boy in the ribs. “Give it to him.”
The boy handed over the scroll.
The parchment was very high quality. The ribbon hanging from the scroll silk.
Celyn pulled open the curled corners and read it. It bore only a name and a time.
Brannie? Celyn called out. Brannie? Can you hear me? When he didn’t get an answer, Celyn tried his mother, then his father. Still nothing.
Standing, Celyn motioned the boys back.
“You won’t tell me da, will you, Lord Celyn?” Robert asked, tears beginning to fill his eyes.
“I won’t tell your da if you lot don’t tell what you’re about to see.”
“Not a word. We all promise.”
“Then we have a deal.”
Celyn motioned the boys farther back, and when they’d run a good distance away, he shifted to his natural dragon form, unleashed his wings, and lifted into the air. The sound of the young boys cheering the last thing he heard before he shot back toward Garbhán Isle.
Wearing a dress that Princess Keita had given her “because I can see you need something pretty!” Agrippina walked through a field that, in the summer, was filled with wildflowers. There were a few flowers trying to hold on in the cold, but it was mostly just frozen ground and bare stems.
By great Rhydderch Hael’s cock! Agrippina didn’t know why she needed to be here with these useless Southlanders and the Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle. She should be by her brother’s side, helping him. Not banished to this place.
Why didn’t her brother understand? Of course there were rumors about people wanting to kill her. There would always be rumors. With the Quintilian Provinces trapped in a power struggle between her brother and their cousins, she and her brother were obvious targets. But Aggie shouldn’t be forced to hide, like a child, while her brother secured his throne.
“Princess Agrippina!”
Aggie stopped and looked behind her. Marcellus, of her personal guard, was running toward her.
“What is it, Marcellus?” she asked when he was close.
“You’re in danger.”
She shrugged. “I thought that’s why I was here.”
“Assassins are here, my lady. I need to get you someplace safe.” He grabbed her wrist and pulled.
Aggie went with him, but at the same time she called out to her brother to let him know. When she got no answer back—and her brother never blocked her—Aggie immediately stopped, digging her heels into the ground.
Marcellus faced her. “My lady?”
“Where are the others?”
“Attempting to protect you. As I am doing.”
Aggie studied the dragon’s human face. “You’re lying,” she said softly.
“Princess—”
“You’re lying.” This was the same ploy cousin Vateria’s people had used to capture her the first time. But Marcellus wouldn’t know that. He had been just a soldier in the rebel army then.
The grip on her wrist tightened, and Marcellus said, sadly, “I wanted to make it as painless as possible for you.”
Aggie looked up at Marcellus through her lashes. “Yes. I’m sure you did.” With her free hand, she stroked his forearm. “I’m sorry I can’t do the same for you.”
“What do you mean, you can’t find Gwenvael or Briec?” Izzy demanded while she nervously readjusted her travel pack for the fifteenth time and continued to walk down the back road they hoped would allow them to cut in front of Annwyl before she got too far.
“I looked for them,” Éibhear explained, “but I couldn’t find them. But I brought the next best thing.”
“Mì-runach?” Brannie asked, pointing at the three dragons in human form. “You brought Mì-runach with you? We’re just going to fetch Annwyl. Not kill her.”
“Your tone is hurtful, Branwen the Awful.�
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“Don’t think for a second I won’t kill you,” she shot back at one of the Mì-runach.
Izzy was in no mood to hear this bickering, so she asked Éibhear, “Can’t you do that thing . . . with your head?”
Éibhear frowned. “That thing with my head?”
“She means talking to them.” Brannie stopped, looking up into the sky. “I think it might snow.”
“Then it snows. Come on.” Izzy looked back at Éibhear. “Yeah. Talk to them in your head. Can’t you do that?”
“I’ve tried. They must have me blocked out for some reason.”
“Just wonderful.”
“We’ll find her, Iz,” Brannie continued to promise.
“Brannie!”
Hearing Celyn calling out to his sister, Izzy stopped and looked up. The dragon landed in front of them, his claws slamming hard into the ground.
Brannie pushed past Izzy and Éibhear. “What is it?”
“Have you seen Princess Agrippina today?”
“No, but—”
“I hear her,” Éibhear cut in. He pointed to some nearby trees. “I hear her voice on the other side of—”
Éibhear suddenly dove at Izzy, dropping them both to the ground.
Celyn watched his cousin throw himself and Izzy to the ground just as the hottest flames Celyn had ever experienced torched the trees close to them.
Trying to move out of the way, Celyn gave a painful yelp as flames lashed across his back leg. The fire was so powerful, it cut past his scales and into flesh.
Never. Not once in his existence, had Celyn ever been burned by flame. How could he be? He was made of fire.
Brannie ran to his side once the flame stopped. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Celyn realized he’d forgotten about Agrippina and scrambled to his claws. He ran to the woods, limping a bit because of his wounded leg, while the others followed behind him.
He found Princess Agrippina standing in the middle of a burned-out field, her eyes coldly watching one of her personal guards trying to crawl away from her. Her flame had destroyed half his body, but he wasn’t dead yet.
“I don’t understand,” she said softly as she stared at her fellow Iron. “Why would they kill me? I’m more valuable to them alive.”
“Are you sure that’s what he wanted to do?” Éibhear asked. “To kill you?”
“He said something about smiting me in the name of his god . . . whatever that means.”
“She’s right,” Celyn said. “She’s worth much more alive than dead. That’s why Vateria never killed her.” He glanced at Agrippina. “She kept control of your brother by keeping you a prisoner.”
“But then—”
Celyn held his claw up, and Éibhear immediately fell silent.
“We have a problem,” Celyn said as he faced the small group. “This wasn’t the only assassin sent out today. Boys in town saw messages given to others. Messages like this one.” He held up the scroll that Robert and his friends had given him. “This one had Agrippina’s name and a time. I think there are other attempted assassinations taking place at this very moment.”
“So what are we waiting for?” Izzy demanded. “Let’s go—”
“I don’t know who the others are. And I can’t reach anyone.”
“What do you mean you can’t reach anyone?” Brannie asked.
“I’ve been calling you since I realized what was going on. Did you ever hear me?”
Brannie shook her head.
“Do you hear me now?”
“No.”
“Then I can’t reach anyone.”
“He’s right,” Agrippina chimed in. “I can’t hear my brother. And he never blocks me.”
Closing his eyes, Celyn started to talk out loud as his brain quickly sorted through the information they had. “Annwyl said that it felt like Abertha was trying to get her to kill her.”
“To turn Abertha into a martyr,” Éibhear said.
“Right. Even the guards who challenged Annwyl . . . I don’t think they actually tried to kill her. They wanted Annwyl alive. Yet this time they wanted Princess Agrippina dead. Why?”
“That makes absolutely no sense,” Izzy said. “Annwyl and Rhiannon are war queens. They should be the first to die, because if something happens to any of their allies or someone close to them—”
“Gods,” Celyn breathed. “That’s it. They want war. They want to cleanse the lands of what they consider the Abominations. Those who don’t follow their beliefs. Their god. And they know Annwyl, Rhiannon, and with the death of Agrippina, King Gaius will bring that war even if we’re not ready.”
And they weren’t ready. Not even close.
“But you said there were others,” Brannie reminded him. “Other targets besides Agrippina. We need to know who they are.”
“The assassins are going after the ones whose deaths will start a war and those . . . who can prevent war.” Celyn faced the group again. “Brannie, go to Da’s house.” Without waiting, Brannie shifted to her dragon form and took to the air. “Izzy and Éibhear . . . you need to get to Dagmar. Now.”
As his cousins charged off, Celyn focused on the confused Mì-runach. “You lot, you’ll stay with Agrippina. Protect her with your lives.”
“And what are you going to do, Queen’s Guard?” one of the Mì-runach asked.
“I should go with my sister, but . . . I feel like I’m missing . . .”
“Are you actually going to finish a sentence?”
“The queen.”
“Yeah. Our queen. The one you are sworn to protect. Remember her?”
“My mother’s with her. No one will be able to . . .”
“You need to finish a bloody thought,” the Mì-runach complained.
But Celyn couldn’t be bothered as he took to the air once he realized there was one other dragon he needed to protect if he was going to ensure that the Salebiris didn’t get their way.
Elina watched the wild boar charge away, her arrow missing the damn thing by a mile.
“I’ll get him,” Kachka said, running after the animal.
Disappointed in herself, Elina sat down on a tree stump.
“That was pitiful,” she told Var.
The young boy was busy reading a book, paying no attention to what Elina and Kachka were trying to teach him.
“It could be worse,” he said, turning the page. “Your mother could have taken both eyes.”
Elina nodded. “I like you, Var. You are not whiny and constantly sobbing like that brown one.”
Var glanced up from his book. “Auntie Talaith?”
“No, no. She is strong like all Nolwenn witches are. I mean her daughter, Rhianwen.”
“I haven’t met her yet, so I wouldn’t be able to agree or disagree on that statement.”
“You are strange child. But I still like you.”
Elina yawned and scratched the back of her neck. That’s when she realized something.
“No birds.”
Var looked up from his book. “Pardon?”
“No birds.” Elina nocked another arrow in her bow and stood. “They have stopped their singing.”
Kachka walked out of the woods. She had no wild boar carcass with her, and Kachka never missed a shot.
Staring at each other, the sisters said together, “No birds.”
A twig snapped behind her and Elina spun to her left as she always had, her bow raised, the arrow loosed without thought. It slammed into a man’s chest. He stumbled back, eyes wide in disbelief, staring at Elina in shock before he crashed to the ground.
“What have you done?” Var screamed as he jumped up, tossed the book away, and ran to the man’s side.
“Shoot first,” Kachka said for Elina. “Mourn loss second.”
“He came up on my blind side.”
“Gods,” the boy said. “I know him. He’s . . .”
Var suddenly ran at the sisters, his hands out. He pushed them, hard, attempting to shove them b
ack. “Move. Please. Quickly!”
Understanding that this particular boy wasn’t one for hysterics, Elina and Kachka grabbed Var by his arms, lifted him, and ran until an explosion of flames had them diving for the ground. When they felt safe enough to look, there was a dragon carcass where the man’s body had been.
“Everywhere,” Kachka complained. “There are dragons everywhere.”
Var scrambled up. “That was an Elder Guard.”
“Elder Guard?”
“They protect the Elder Dragon Lords just as Celyn protects the queen.”
“If that’s true, then why is he here?” Kachka asked. “Why is he not protecting his Elder Dragon Lord rather than wandering up behind my sister?”
Var moved close to the dragon, studying him. Then he suddenly dropped to a crouch and began to dig under the body.
“What is he doing?” Kachka asked.
“I have no idea. He is strange boy.”
Var stood and he now held a gold blade.
“By all reason,” he breathed.
“What is that?” Elina asked.
“A ceremonial dagger.” He studied the runes on the side and the hilt. “‘In the glory,’” he recited, “‘of the one true god.’”
Var looked up at Elina. “Uncle Bram!” he suddenly screamed. “Uncle Bram!”
Bram had made it as far as the dining hall before he was forced to dump his bag on one of the tables so that he could sort through all his things.
He didn’t know how long he was focused on that task, but he nearly jumped out of his weak human skin when he heard voices behind him.
Bram spun around and let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, Elder Vass, Elder Loran, Elder Reganach. Hello. What brings you here?”
“Important business about the queen.” Elder Vass smiled. “You do have some time, though, yes? To talk.”
“Of course.” Bram invited the dragons into his home with a wave of his hand. “Please come in. Let’s talk.”
Dagmar was busy in her study, analyzing the bills from the stonemason, hoping to figure out what that tower could possibly be—although she was pretty sure she already knew what it was for . . . much to her great disappointment—when her study door was pushed open.