by G. A. Aiken
“What?” he asked, looking down at his arm.
But she didn’t answer, just walked off in search of her daughter.
Izzy heard her name called and stopped, turning. Her mother ran up to her.
“Do you have some time to talk?” Talaith asked.
“About Keita? Really?”
“Not Keita. I’m letting your father deal with that.” She stepped closer, glanced around, and lowered her voice. “It’s about Rhi.”
“My house? I’ll make us some tea.”
Her mother nodded. “Sounds perfect.”
Arm in arm, mother and daughter walked to Izzy’s house. And although they chatted amiably, Izzy knew her mother well enough to know that something was bothering her. Something that had nothing to do with Keita’s latest outrageous political maneuver.
Once at the house, Izzy sat her mother down at the table and pulled out some cake that she’d bought for the dinner she’d had with Celyn and Brannie the evening before. She cut several pieces and put them on a plate before her mother. Then she went about making the tea.
By the time Izzy poured the tea and sat down at the table cattycorner from her mother, it was easy to see how distressed she was. Taking her mother’s hands in her own, Izzy said, “Mum . . . what is it?”
“I’m so glad you’re home. I need your help.”
“Tell me. What do you need?”
“I’ll need your help with your father. You’re so good with him.”
“Anything, Mum. Just tell me.”
“Your sister . . .”
“What about her?” Izzy pushed.
“Her skills as a witch . . . they’re . . .” Talaith licked her lips, took a breath. “I want to send her to her grandmother for training. Proper training.”
Izzy winced. “Grandmum, eh?” She shrugged. “That won’t be easy. But I’m sure I can come up with something to get Dad to agree. Although it’ll be hard for Rhi on Devenallt Mountain, being unable to fly . . . wait. Can she fly?”
Talaith shook her head. “No, no. Not your grandmum. Your grandmother.” Talaith licked her lips again and admitted, “My mother.”
Izzy stared at her mother for a long moment. Then, when she truly understood what she was saying, Izzy flung her mother’s hands away and roared, “Have you lost your fucking mind?”
“That is enough!” Dagmar snarled, stepping between Briec and Keita and swinging her arms in an attempt to stop the ridiculous slap fight between siblings.
“Your lady is very brave,” Éibhear stated to Gwenvael before taking a bite out of the fruit he held.
“She is. I’ve seen her face down some of the worst tyrants with absolutely no fear.”
“You mean Dad?”
“He was one.” Gwenvael glanced at him. “Did you start all this?”
“I’d really say that Keita started it, but I did escalate the argument to the free-for-all you see before you.”
“Nicely handled, little brother. I’m usually the only one who creates this level of discord.”
“I’d found that creating discord, as you call it, among the Ice Landers, made them much easier to kill because they were so distracted. I have to admit . . . I’ve used that to my advantage.”
Gwenvael put his hand to his heart. “Are you saying that I helped you become a better killer?”
“You have, brother. You have.”
“I’m surprisingly proud of that.”
Dagmar faced Keita. “I thought I was to handle Lord Madock.”
“You were taking too long and once I discovered his taste for women with muscular thighs bigger than his entire body, I thought of Izzy.”
“Wait,” Briec said. “Are you saying you want Lord Madock dead?”
“You’re just getting that?”
“And you expected Izzy to kill him? A man she doesn’t even know?”
“All Izzy does every day is kill,” Keita snapped back. “She kills and she orders others to kill. So why are we acting like she’s some weak little child I’m trying to marry off?”
“Why didn’t you just ask her that then?” Dagmar wanted to know. “To take care of Madock? Rather than this pretending you want her to meet and entertain a man more than twice her senior?”
Keita shrugged. “Celyn was twice her senior and no one seemed to have a problem.”
Gwenvael sucked his tongue against his teeth.
“What’s wrong?” Éibhear asked him.
“I’m sad Talaith wasn’t here for that one. It would have led to a lovely fistfight.”
“A fight Keita would have lost.”
“Gods, yes. She’s so busy protecting her face, Talaith just hits her with repeated body shots until she passes out.”
Izzy leaned back in her chair and gazed at her mother, her mouth slightly open. “How you can even consider—”
“Izzy, I understand your concerns but—”
“My concerns?” Izzy rubbed her forehead, tried to be calm. “Mum, that bitch abandoned you. She tossed you out, left you defenseless, all because you’d fallen in love with my birth father and gotten pregnant with me. How could you ever forgive her for what she did to you? What she allowed to happen? It was because she abandoned you when you needed her most that Arzhela was able to get to you. To ruin your life for sixteen years.”
“I never said I would forgive her, Izzy. I remember everything. The horrible things she said and did when I told her that I was in love with your father. That I was pregnant with you. How she purposely waited until I was hours away from labor before she told me to get out because I’d betrayed my sisters. And just before I left, news came that your father . . .” Talaith cleared her throat, took a breath. “That your father had been killed in battle, yet she still threw me out of the temple. So understand that I have no intention of forgiving Haldane, Daughter of Elisa for a gods-damn thing. But we have to be realistic about your sister.”
“What can your mother teach her that Rhiannon can’t? That Morfyd can’t? They’re both white Dragonwitches and—”
“Right,” she cut in. “They’re both white dragons. Dragons, Iseabail. Not humans. And Rhi’s half human.”
It was something they never really talked about except as a way to explain how difficult Rhi and the twins could be at any given moment. Because it had never mattered before. Not to Izzy and not to the rest of the family. So why was it important now?
“I know she’s half human, Mum. What does that have to do with anything?”
“It has everything to do with it when it comes to Magick, when it comes to power. And Rhiannon’s ability to control her Magick, to rein it in, was born into her. The control of human Magick, however, needs to be taught.”
“And you can’t do that?”
“Not for your sister. I’ve tried, Iseabail. Gods, have I tried. But her power . . .” Talaith fell back in her chair, her eyes locked on a spot across the room. “Her power has grown, only now it fluctuates with her moods. It wasn’t too bad when she was a child but when she came into her first blood . . .” Talaith shook her head. “She set Gwenvael on fire.”
Izzy’s back snapped straight. “She did what?”
“I know. He’s a dragon, but he was on fire. It was a good thing he is a dragon because he recovered after a few days. Even so, there was a lot of whining for all the females to take care of him, which was actually more annoying than anything else that happened.”
“Mum.”
Her mother looked at her. “Hhhm?”
“She set him on fire?”
“You know Gwenvael. He started it.”
“But if it hadn’t been Gwenvael . . .”
“Exactly, Izzy. And that was when Rhi was barely fourteen winters. She’s been working with me, Morfyd, Rhiannon, Ragnar, a few powerful dragon Elders . . . and although she tries hard, so very hard . . . once her anger or, even worse, her fear and panic come into play”—Talaith wrapped her hands around the mug and gazed down at it—“the damage continues to get worse.”
/> “What about Talan and Talwyn?”
“They protect her, just like always. That has never changed, I doubt it ever will. They’re equally powerful, but in different ways.” She looked at Izzy, smiled. “Just like you.”
“Powerful? Me?” Izzy shrugged. “Anyone can be powerful, Mum, with three legions at your back.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself, Iseabail. What you lack in Magick, you more than make up for in physical power and skill. Besides, dismissing anyone who lacks Magicks is something your grandmother would do. I’m sure you don’t want to make that same mistake.”
“What do you want me to say, Mum? About this?”
“Help me with your father. He listens to you.”
“I don’t know.” She hated that woman for what she’d done to Talaith. Hated her.
“Izzy—”
“Let me think on it a bit, eh?”
“All right.” Her mother pushed her chair back and stood, leaving her tea and the cake untouched. “But not too long, luv. Your sister tossed the twins around like rag dolls yesterday . . . and she was only mildly annoyed then. I fear what she may do when she’s good and pissed off. . . .”
Chapter 15
Brannie sat beside Celyn on the Garbhán Isle battlements, their legs hanging over the edge, their arms resting on the railing. And together they watched their father, the great Bram the Merciful, stop in the middle of the oversized courtyard. One second he was walking and the next, he was digging through that bag of his. Whenever he traveled more than a hundred feet from his home door, their father had that bag or he went back for it. But he seemed to spend more time going through it, or complaining about what wasn’t in it, than doing anything else.
Even now, a good two hours’ flight from his home, and what was he doing? Going through his damn bag!
Brother and sister looked at each other, then back at their father. Although Brannie—and Celyn for that matter—had very little in common with their father, she did adore him. Unlike most of the males among her kin, he was the kindest dragon she knew. And although all his hatchlings had followed the way of the Cadwaladrs rather than the way of Bram the Merciful, he never showed disappointment or envy of dragons who had offspring more comfortable in libraries or royal chambers than in battlefields.
Even better, he made their mother very happy. Still, after several centuries together. Unlike her Uncle Bercelak and Queen Rhiannon, however, Brannie’s parents kept their private lives, well . . . private. Occasionally she saw her mother on her father’s lap when they were human or their tails intertwined when they were dragon, but if their father ever chained up their mother, Brannie could say with great relief . . . she’d never walked in on that.
Shame her royal cousins could not say the same thing.
“What do you think he’s looking for?” Brannie asked.
“His sanity?”
She laughed and leaned over the railing. “Daddy,” she called out and her father stopped searching in his bag, but he didn’t move at all.
“Daddy,” she called again. And now her father looked around him, appearing a tad panicked. She looked at Celyn, but he could only shrug.
“Daddy! Look up!”
He did, but when he saw his youngest daughter and son, he let out a breath, his hand against his chest. “Gods, Branwen the Black! You scared me to death! I thought you were calling me from the Great Beyond.”
Brannie frowned. “Beyond what?”
Now her brother laughed and her father shook his head. “Brannie, my love, how I’ve missed you.”
She grinned. “I’ve missed you, too. But why are you here?”
“To talk to the queens. But”—and the bag digging began again—“I can’t find all the paperwork. Gods, I hate when this happens. I hate not having everything I need when I must see Queen Rhiannon.”
She didn’t ask why he didn’t worry about Queen Annwyl the same way. It wasn’t because he feared her less—he didn’t—but because Annwyl didn’t make it her business in life to torment poor Bram. It wasn’t vicious. In fact, it was Rhiannon’s way of showing how much she liked their father. Too bad Bram just saw it as pure torment.
“Do you want us to go get it for you?” Brannie asked. She didn’t like her father to travel as much as he used to. He was getting older, although it was hard to see since he was still so very handsome, and she worried about him. Especially since he traveled mostly on his own. Only on Queen’s orders would he allow for a protective guard. “We can be there and back by tomorrow, before your meeting.”
But a bony elbow rammed into her side.
“Ow!” she complained.
“I have plans tonight,” he whispered.
“Oh, by the gods,” she sighed. “Please don’t tell me you’re starting up again with Izzy.”
“No, I’m not starting up again with Izzy. And are you going to keep throwing that in my face any time I say I have plans?”
“Maybe!”
Disgusted, although she didn’t really know why, Brannie turned from her brother to finish talking to her father, but he was gone.
“Where’d he go?”
“Wandered off that way.” Celyn motioned toward the Great Hall doors.
“I don’t want him traveling so much, Celyn. He’s not getting any younger.”
“Neither are you, but we aren’t holding that against you.”
Fed up, Brannie caught her brother by his black hair, lifted him up while she stood and then hauled him over the railing, throwing him to the ground below.
“You vicious cow!” he screamed up at her.
She started to scream back at him, but something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention and she walked across the battlement to the other side. There she saw Izzy walking along with that ugly dog of hers. Brannie had been around Izzy for many years now. They’d been through battles and nights of too much drink and other nights of too much kin, and she knew when something was bothering her friend.
Worried it was Éibhear, she went down the battlement stairs, walked past her still-yelling brother, and out one of the side doors. She tracked down Izzy heading away from the castle and deep into the woods.
“Iz!”
Izzy stopped and turned, watching Brannie run up to her. She forced a smile. “Hi, there.”
Brannie halted in her tracks, glared. “Do you expect me to believe that smile?”
Realizing it was futile, Izzy let the smile go and her shoulders slump.
“What’s wrong?”
Izzy threw her arms out and announced to the trees, “Everything!”
Nodding, Brannie suggested, “Would you like a stage to make this speech?”
Izzy pursed her lips to stop from chuckling. “Bitch.”
Brannie slung her arm around Izzy’s shoulders. “I know, I know. It’s a flaw. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
Izzy did. She told her of her surprisingly short but incredibly painful conversation with her mother. While she talked, they walked, until they ended up at one of their favorite spots. A quiet lake surrounded by trees and boulders. It was too small for dragons in their true form, so it was mostly used in the evening by dragons with human mates. And during the day . . . by Izzy and Brannie.
Dropping onto a boulder, Izzy stared out over the calm lake. “I don’t trust that woman.”
“Your mum?”
“No. That bitch who bred her.”
“I can’t say that I blame you. Do you think your mother’s really going to send Rhi to her?”
“I do. But that’s madness. What if she turns her against us? Giving that evil bitch someone as powerful as my sister seems a foolish move.”
“But keeping your sister here with no way to control her power seems more foolish. At least if she destroys everything around her, she’ll be safely in the south and far from us.”
Izzy gawked at her cousin, and Brannie added, “Not that I don’t care about the Desert Land people. I’m just saying it won’t be our problem.”
> Looking back at the lake, Izzy wondered what would be the best decision. Trusting her mother was making the best decision about a woman who’d tossed her out while pregnant and barely sixteen?
“What do you need, Iz?”
Yeah, that was Brannie’s way. If she didn’t have an answer, then she wanted to know what she could do for you to help you get through whatever your problem was. An important trait in an ally during battle. An invaluable trait to have in a friend.
“I need time to think. This isn’t some battle I’m going into. This is my sister’s life. But trying to find time to think with this family . . . the twins will want me in the training ring, Rhi will want to talk dresses—although Keita’s here, so she may help with that—and my mother will keep staring at me, waiting for me to talk to her about it.”
“I’ve got the perfect thing,” Bran said excitedly. “Go to me da’s place.”
“Why?”
“He’s here to meet with Annwyl and Rhiannon tomorrow. The place is empty except for his assistant. And that one’s quiet as a mouse. You’ll just need to bring back one of Da’s all important papers.”
Izzy finally smiled. “I love your father. He’s so nice.”
“Isn’t he?”
“And yet none of his children—”
“Yes,” Brannie cut in. “We know. We know.”
Disgusted, Éibhear walked on, his hand around Frederik’s small shoulders.
“We don’t know why you’re mad,” Aidan argued from behind them. “It’s not like we haven’t done this before.”
“But to involve the boy—”
“We didn’t involve the boy. You did. You sent him.”
“To drag you lot off the floor of a pub. Not get you from the jail.”
“Still don’t see how that’s our fault,” Cas complained.
“And he didn’t have enough money for all three of us.”
Éibhear stopped walking, faced the dragons behind him. “What do you mean he didn’t have enough?” he asked Uther, who’d made the statement.