She rammed the flat of her hand against the man’s chest once, and Keita heard bones breaking.
Keita grinned. Perhaps Aidan was right about having these Riders with them on their journey.
* * *
The bed was small, so they were wrapped around each other, but Brannie didn’t mind. She’d woken up in worse positions over the years.
But it wasn’t being curled up with Aidan the Divine that had dragged her from a solid after-sex sleep. It was the scent of humans she didn’t recognize.
She opened her eyes and Aidan was already staring at her. They’d fallen asleep with their arms around each other, their legs intertwined, and his cock still inside her. Both of them too tired to even bother separating.
Now they were both reaching for their weapons when the door was kicked open. A hard bang was heard from one of the other rooms just as Brannie got to her knees, a short sword in hand.
Two men stormed in, their faces hidden behind hooded robes. A blade flashed, coming down at Brannie. She blocked it but before she could tear out the man’s heart, another blade slammed into him from behind.
Blood hit her in the face and the man coughed up more before he was pushed off the sword and to the floor.
Aidan had already disemboweled the other one, but she wasn’t sure it had happened before that man’s throat was cut from behind.
“We must move,” Kachka ordered, walking out of the room now that her work was done.
Brannie quickly grabbed her clothes, armor, and weapons off the floor and started for the door. “I have to check on Keita.”
“She is fine!” Zoya announced from the hallway. With her arms around the She-dragon’s human waist, she carried Keita like a child’s doll. “I will take her out. We must go.”
“I can walk, peasant,” Keita complained.
“You are too weak to fight. Look at her!” she ordered, holding Keita out. Her cousin’s arms hung limply at her sides, red hair still mussed from bed, lips pursed. If she suddenly set Zoya on fire, Brannie would not be surprised.
Quickly putting her clothes on in the middle of the hallway, Brannie asked, “Who are these men? More Zealots?”
“I tried to look,” Keita replied, “but the giantess wouldn’t give me any time.”
“She’s protecting you,” she reminded her cousin. “Be nice.”
Aidan, now dressed, crouched beside one of the men. He pulled the hood back and yanked down the cloth that covered the man’s face.
Frowning, Aidan shook his head at Brannie. “They’re not Zealots.”
Surprised by that, Brannie quickly pulled on her chain mail shirt and stepped back into the bedroom, close to the other male. She also pulled back the hood and removed the black cloth around his face.
Aidan was right. These men weren’t Zealots.
“They could have been hired by them,” she suggested. “Keita said Salebiri had been hiring troops. That’s why he needed the gold.”
“Either way,” Keita said. “They came for me, trying to stop me if they thought I could get the Empress’s armies on our side.”
“Do not worry about danger, tiny female,” Zoya told her, pulling poor Keita in close and holding her against her ample chest. “I will protect you.”
Then they were both gone.
“It will not be long before Keita kills her,” Aidan said with a sigh.
“I know. I know.” Brannie stood, took a moment to get her boots on, then grabbed all her weapons, putting her “stick” into a small holder on her belt.
Brannie went out into the hallway, with Aidan behind her. A hung-over Caswyn and Uther were trying their best to appear intimidating, even though they looked more like they were about to pass out.
She was heading over to ask them how they were when Nina Chechneva rushed back up the stairs.
“There are more men outside,” she warned. “I think they wait for us.”
“Do it,” Kachka ordered, and Nina ran back down.
“What’s she going to do?”
“Take their souls.”
And Kachka said it so matter-of-factly that Brannie didn’t really think about it until Aidan asked, “Pardon?”
“That is what Nina Chechneva does. She takes the souls of men and uses them to increase her power. We let her as long as she does not betray us. If she betrays us, then we let Zoya Kolesova tear her arms off.”
Aidan nodded at that. “So you have all formed a nice . . . bond, I see.”
“No. We loathe her and she loathes us, but we work well together to defeat the Zealots.”
“Okay, then,” Brannie said with a smile, refusing to ask any more. Because she honestly didn’t want to know.
* * *
By the time they made it outside, Nina Chechneva was nearly done devouring the last soul.
Her slim body was covered in dark light and she seemed to be in the throes of passion, her head thrown back, gasps rising from her throat, her body undulating.
It was disturbing to watch; Aidan couldn’t imagine how horrible it was to go through it. To be the one whose soul she was taking.
And what happened to those souls? Were they trapped inside her? Did they merely disappear, never moving on to the next level? Never seeing their ancestors on the other side?
Again, Aidan didn’t know and he didn’t think he wanted to. Strange things could sometimes give him nightmares and he’d rather sleep well.
Keita walked past the bodies, studying each one carefully before facing Brannie.
“I don’t know them.”
“But they’re here for you. For us.”
She put her hands on her hips and again looked at those sent to kill them all. “We need a new boat. Another way to get to the Eastlands.”
Aidan understood. Everything they’d already planned was suspect now. Someone wanted to stop Keita from making this trip.
“You need boat,” Zoya said. “We get boat.” She patted Keita’s head. “Do not worry, tiny weak female. The Daughters of the Steppes will protect you.”
The Riders began hauling the bodies to an alley so they wouldn’t be found for a while, and Brannie immediately moved to her cousin’s side.
“Keita—”
Keita raised her hand. “No, no. I have seen the benefit of having the Riders around. And I have no intention of killing any of them . . . until we’re done. If we survive, then I’ll kill them all.”
“Not Kachka,” Brannie reminded her, giving her cousin a short hug. “I’ll never hear the end of it from Celyn.”
“Fair enough.”
Chapter Nineteen
To protect Keita, only the Riders went to the Port City docks to find a boat that could take them to the Eastlands. The rest of them stayed well inside the city in a back alley, all of them surrounding Keita’s tiny human form.
She was very tense the entire time, pacing and constantly scratching the back of her neck. The She-dragon wanted to know who was trying to stop her trip if it wasn’t the Zealots. Who was willing to kill the entire party just to stop her?
Since Aidan didn’t know who was on Keita’s vast list of connections, he couldn’t help. All he could do was stand guard with Brannie and his Mì-runach brethren until Kachka returned to them.
“Zoya found boat,” she told them, motioning the group out of the alley.
They moved quickly, aware the two suns were beginning to dawn in the sky.
Reaching the dock, they hastened past the fishermen heading to their own boats and the merchants and fishmongers who were already setting up their stalls for the day.
“There,” Kachka said, pointing at a Northland-type ship docked in the harbor. It was bigger than Aidan expected, round shields lining the outside of the boat for, Aidan guessed, easy access during a fight.
They stopped by a load of crates that would be placed on another boat heading out. Zoya stood on the dock between the boat and the crates. She studied the area closely before she motioned for them all to come forward.
&nb
sp; Walking quickly but not running, they headed toward the boat. But as Aidan was about to pass a still-watchful Zoya, she caught hold of his arm to halt him.
“What?” he asked.
She motioned behind him, her confused gaze focused in the same direction.
Aidan looked over his shoulder, expecting to see more of the robed assassins coming for Keita but . . . no. That was not what had Zoya’s attention.
It was Branwen. She still stood by the crates.
Surprised, Aidan rushed back to her side. “Come on,” he urged. “We have to move.”
“You know, I was thinking . . .”
She was thinking? Now? When they were trying to avoid those trying to kill them?
“Why don’t I stay here? Take care of those pesky assassins?”
Pesky?
“That way we can be sure that you guys . . . you know . . . get away. Safely and all.”
“What are you talking about?”
Keita appeared at his side, Kachka behind her.
“What’s going on?” Keita asked.
“I was thinking I should stay here,” Brannie said, her gaze seemingly locked on the ground.
“Take care of those pesky assassins,” Aidan added, frowning at Keita.
“If we get on the boat and get out of here,” Keita reasoned, “we won’t have to worry about anyone. So let’s go.”
Brannie lifted her head, looked at all of them, then said, “I’m . . . I’m not leaving my troops. I’m going back to the front.”
Keita threw up her hands. “Are we actually here again?”
“We’re here again,” Brannie insisted. “I’m not leaving my . . . my men . . . for anyone. Including you, cousin. So there!”
Keita let out a disgusted sound from the back of her throat. “I don’t have time for this centaur shit. Kachka, grab her and let’s go.”
Without question, Kachka reached out and grabbed Brannie’s arm . . . and that’s when everything went particularly strange.
“No, no, no, no, nooooo!” Brannie abruptly screeched, yanking her arm away from a stunned Kachka. “None of you are getting me on that fucking death trap!”
“Branwen!” Keita barked.
“I’ll die here, thank you! Here on land! You can go out there”—she waved her hands wildly in front of her—“and die on the open seas! I’m staying right here! Right here until the end of time!”
Mouths open, Aidan and Keita looked at each other, the princess’s eyes as wide as his own, he was sure.
Kachka leaned forward and told them calmly, “Could be wrong, dragons, but I think mighty warrior . . . terrified of ocean.”
* * *
Branwen couldn’t think straight. She just knew—knew!—she wasn’t getting on that death trap and allowing it to drag her out into the middle of an angry ocean where they might or might not get to the other side.
No. No! Never!
His hands raised, Aidan tried that soft voice thing he did when he was trying to calm something out of control. Like a horse. Or a stampeding elk. Or Annwyl.
But Brannie knew. She was not crazed! She knew exactly what was going on and she wasn’t about to let anyone convince her otherwise! Even Aidan!
“Bran—”
“Nooooo!” she screamed in his face. “I’m not listening! I’m never listening! I will not allow any of you to drag me to my death!”
Aidan backed up. “All right,” he said to Keita. “I’m out.”
“Typical male,” Keita complained with a sigh. “Completely useless!”
Then Brannie’s tiny cousin swung her fist and . . . that was the last thing Brannie remembered.
* * *
Aidan watched the back of Branwen’s head collide with the wood crate before her body slipped to the ground.
And all that from one punch.
From Keita.
Now he and Kachka Shestakova gawked at the dragoness as she brushed one hand against another.
“Do you mean that?” Keita asked when she realized they were staring, her punching hand gesturing to a still knocked-out Branwen. “The first thing my father ever taught me was how to handle a male who didn’t understand the word no. And in the end, the difference between a persistent male and a crazed Branwen is negligible.” She smiled and motioned to the ship. “Now . . . shall we?”
* * *
The entrances to different hells were not elaborate or complex. Annwyl found out she could easily enter one without even meaning to.
She’d walked into at least five different ones so far and in the process had nearly frozen to death, burned to death, been eaten by flies, chased by snakes, and attacked by screeching harpies. Thankfully getting back to the hell she started in was not hard, either. She just had to turn around.
Who knew she’d started off in the “nicer” hell?
Well, at least the most tolerable. It seemed almost like a normal world for demons. There were houses and towns and roaming animals. But everything was tainted. And because Annwyl wasn’t, they would go for her. So she avoided the towns, the houses, and stayed off the main roads.
Despite her exhaustion, Annwyl just wanted to get out. She wanted to return to her troops, her kin.
At some point she had hit some kind of wasteland, characterized by dirt and rocks and a red, overcast sky.
Deciding to take a break, she dropped down by a deformed tree, her back against its lumpy trunk. She closed her eyes and tried to relax, but the branches of the tree kept trying to grab her. So she caught hold of the closest branch and pulled and pulled until she tore the branch off. Blood poured from the wood like sap and the tree made a strange mewling sound before the branches withdrew and left Annwyl alone.
“You fit in here quite well,” she heard.
Annwyl opened her eyes and looked at the brown-skinned warrior woman standing in front of her. At some point, the woman’s throat had been cut and her arm was nearly hacked off at the shoulder, but she didn’t seem dead. Not like everyone else Annwyl had seen who was not a demon.
“Do I know you?”
“We’ve . . . met before. But you weren’t at your best. I doubt you remember. But you know a friend of mine.”
“Do you know the way out of here?” Annwyl was in no mood for chitchat.
“Sadly, not for you. It took me ages to find you as it is. So you’ll have to find your own way out. I have no power here.”
“That’s unfortunate.”
“I’m sure it is. But you need to be careful. Die here and you’re staying. There’s nothing anyone can do about it.”
“I assumed.”
“And the ruling lord of this hell . . . you didn’t kill him. He’s coming for you.”
“Figures.” Annwyl stood up, brushing red dirt off her leggings. “Anything else?”
“You do know you’re not talking to yourself, don’t you?”
“Of course I’m talking to myself.”
“Annwyl, I’m a god. I’m Eir.”
“Riiiiight. Sure you are. You’re a god. I’m a completely rational human being right now. How could it be anything else?”
“But you’ve spoken to gods before. Mingxia, for instance—”
“That’s my point. If you were real, you’d be Mingxia. I don’t know you.”
“Annwyl—”
“No, no. I don’t want to argue with myself. I’m sure once I get out of here, I’ll be much less crazy.”
Annwyl’s delusion smiled at her. “There’s nothing wrong with a little crazy, Annwyl the Bloody. Never forget that. Hold on to that. It may save your life.”
“That’s really sweet. But we both know I’m way more than a little crazy.”
Chapter Twenty
Since Gwenvael had been off to war with his brothers, Dagmar had been waking up every morning surrounded by her five dogs. They didn’t replace Gwenvael, but they helped with the loneliness.
As someone who’d spent her entire life in the Northlands mostly alone—and enjoying every second of that
solitude—missing someone as much as she missed Gwenvael was not an easy thing. But the dragon had a way of digging his claws into a being’s heart and making himself quite comfortable there. She should hate him for doing that to her . . . making her care. But it was too late now. Not only did she care about him, she cared about his siblings, the mates of his siblings—including the human queen of these lands—the people who lived in these territories and, of course, her own children. Var, Arlais, and Gwenvael’s Five. Her youngest daughters.
And she did truly adore them. That didn’t mean, however, she felt comfortable waking up with the youngest of the Five sitting on her bed, silently gazing at her.
“Thora?” Dagmar raised herself up on her elbow, quickly noticing her very brave, very large dogs were huddled in a corner of the room, watching but not really helping. They hadn’t even let out a little bark so that Dagmar would know she was no longer alone. “Is everything all right?”
Her youngest nodded that beautiful, golden head. Eyes bright gold like her daddy’s. Gwenvael’s Five were mirror images of him, the eldest of the Five now fourteen and this little one just turning eight.
“Do you need something?” Dagmar tried again.
Thora had one of the puppies from the kennel stretched out in front of her. She played with the puppy, handling it with care. Something Dagmar was very glad to see about her youngest child, who rarely spoke.
“I don’t need anything, Mummy. I just have to keep you busy for a little while.”
Sighing, Dagmar fell back on the bed. “What are your sisters up to now?”
“Nothing. We just don’t want you facing her. We know how you are. And she’s in a . . . mood.”
Dagmar studied her daughter before asking, “You don’t want me facing who?”
Gold eyes lifted to meet Dagmar’s and Thora said softly, “Auntie Brigida.” She chewed her lip for a bit before adding, “She’s here to see Arlais.”
* * *
Arlais walked into the kitchens, pausing as soon as she stepped inside. She glanced back at the armed female guard that followed her around. Her mother said she’d put this female on Arlais to protect her from being kidnapped. But Arlais knew better. Her mother just didn’t like her “sneaking around.”