“How can two brothers be so bloody different?”
“Let him do this,” Ragnar pleaded with a smile. “He’ll feel better and—”
“So will you?”
He shrugged. “She’s my Keita. Knowing that both you and my brother protect her on this trip will give me nothing but ease. And you’ll find out soon enough why this trip is so important. So for me—and my sanity—do this.”
Dammit. If it had been anyone else . . . but it was Ragnar. From the beginning he’d impressed Rhona. Fair, smart, and a strong commander, he never questioned whether she or any female could or should fight. He simply assumed if you were in the army you could do your job. He was rare for a Lightning. His brother, however . . .
“Rhona?” Ragnar pushed.
She nodded, but with reluctance. “All right. But you’ll owe me, Dragonlord—for putting up with him.”
“Fair enough.” Ragnar winked and motioned at Keita. “And you’ll protect her?”
“She’s blood, my lord. I’ll protect her with my life.”
“Good. Because she is my life.”
Rhona smiled. “That I know.”
Vigholf crouched low by the small cave entrance, big enough only for a human. He raised his arm, lifted his hand, and then he heard it. The signal from Meinhard letting him know that it was—as best he could tell—all clear. Vigholf waited another second, then two. When he was sure, he brought his hand down.
Rhona came out first. Her gaze swept the area. After a moment, she moved quickly and kept low.
Keita and the Eastlander rushed out behind her, keeping low, keeping quiet. He looked back at the exit one last time, his brother standing there watching them go. They locked gazes, the need for words and good-byes long gone. On this trip anything could happen to Vigholf, and during a war anything could happen to Ragnar. It was the way of the warrior and something they’d accepted long ago. But they wouldn’t dwell on that. Instead, Vigholf nodded at his brother, took one more look around, but seeing nothing strange or out of place, he followed the others and headed to the Southlands.
Chapter 5
Talaith, Daughter of Haldane and Mate of Briec the Arrogant, also known as Briec the Mighty, walked down the stairs to the Great Hall of Garbhán Isle. She was tired. It would be the full moon in a few days and she had much to do before she performed the spells she was planning. For she was one of the Nolwenn witches out of the Desert Lands and for more than sixteen years her powers had been denied her by a bitch goddess she still refused to discuss in polite company. But Talaith had her powers back now and she was ready to truly master them. Not easy, though, when the only other witches who could help her were her most hated enemies. The Ice Lands’ Kyvich.
The Kyvich were warrior witches out of the nightmarish Ice Land territories. They were known far and wide for many reasons: their incredible skills on the battlefield, their mystical powers as well as their connections to the gods. But what they were really known—and feared—for was that they built up their rank and file by taking newborn-to-toddler-age daughters. From peasant to royalty, it didn’t matter whose daughter it was, nothing stopped the Kyvich once they’d decided a young girl was one of their own. Although they mostly stayed in the Ice Lands and took offspring from there, they’d been seen as far south as the Desert Lands and as far west as the Provinces. Only the Eastlands seemed to have kept them at bay, most likely due to the violent sea that separated continents. And from the time Talaith could walk, she’d been told by the Nolwenn witches who helped raised her that the Kyvich were no more than “murderous, low-level whores who should feel blessed that they’re allowed to breathe the same air as us.”
Or, as Talaith’s mother so simply put it, Those bitches.
Yet Talaith could only complain so much about the Kyvich because they were here, in Garbhán Isle for a true and mighty purpose. To protect those who meant more to her than any words could ever hope to adequately describe.
They were here to protect the children.
“Good morn, Dagmar.”
Dagmar Reinholdt, her sister-by-mating and Battle Lord of Dark Plains, glanced up from the letters and missives she received nearly every day. “Morn, sister.”
Dagmar also came from the north like the Kyvich. The Northlands specifically. She was a mighty warlord’s daughter but had earned the respect of Queen Annwyl by being what Annwyl could not . . . a rational, political force that many feared. Although Annwyl was feared, all she could really do was cut someone’s head off and kill their soldiers.
Dagmar, when she set her mind to it, could do much worse—and often did.
“Everything all right?” Talaith asked her.
“Not sure.”
“Anything I should be panicking about?”
“Not at the moment, no.”
“Excellent.” Talaith sat down at the large table. A servant placed a bowl of hot porridge in front of her and a basket of fresh bread beside it. She picked up a spoon, ready to dig in, but a door opened behind her and she heard that telltale squeal.
Talaith turned in her chair and opened her arms wide. Her youngest daughter charged into them. Her tiny body slamming into her mother’s, her small arms wrapping around her mother’s neck.
“There’s my beautiful girl. How are you this morning?”
“Fine,” Rhianwen said against Talaith’s throat.
Rhianwen, Rhian for short—unless it was her sister, then it was Rhi—was an impossibly shy and sweet girl. Surprisingly not like her parents at all. Then again, Rhian wasn’t even supposed to exist. For many reasons. Because her father was a dragon, her mother a human, and because as a Nolwenn witch Talaith was only supposed to be able to have one child in her what-should-be eight hundred years or so of existence. And that one child had been her Izzy, who was off risking her life as Annwyl the Bloody’s squire. Izzy was the child Talaith had at sixteen. But then, it seemed, the gods had changed their minds and given Talaith Rhian as well. Her beautiful little Rhian. With the brown skin of her mother’s people and her father’s silver hair and violet eyes, Rhian had unparalleled beauty and thankfully no tail or scales. From what anyone could tell, Talaith’s daughter was completely human—so far. And although strength and battle skills didn’t seem to be Rhian’s future calling, Talaith knew a fellow witch when she saw one. But not just a witch. The girl was unbelievably powerful, clearly blessed by the gods. Magicks swirled around and through her, and with one glance, Rhian could look right into your soul.
It was a little disconcerting at times. Even for Talaith.
“Where are your cousins?” Talaith asked her daughter—as always, afraid of the answer when the twins were not right by Rhian’s side. Because Rhian, although younger, had a lovely calming effect on the brother and sister who also should not exist as the offspring of the human Queen Annwyl and Dragon Prince Fearghus. For while Talaith’s dragon-human daughter may be sweet and innocent, Rhian’s dragon-human cousins were definitely neither of those things. And, it was doubtful they ever would be.
“Playing
