Her mother’s army pushed the Zealots out of their camp and prepared for another assault.
“This is it,” Talwyn said to her brother.
“I know. Is everyone ready?”
“As ready as they’ll ever be. The Sovereign Army is standing by in the west fields. The Lightning Army is lying in wait in what’s left of the forests. We’ve got dragon armies in the mountains. And our legions everywhere else. They’re never getting out of here,” Talwyn said of the trapped Zealots in Salebiri’s enclosure.
“Don’t get cocky, sister. They still have Chramnesind on their side.”
Her brother was right. And so far their multiple gods hadn’t bothered to help them at all.
The pair walked through the camp, while soldiers ran past them and officers called out orders.
They stopped when they saw Morfyd hugging Uncle Brastias good-bye.
She pointed at the twins. “You two . . . don’t be so reckless. Understand?”
Talan and Talwyn nodded as a mystical doorway suddenly opened by their aunt.
“Rhi!” she called out. “Come on!”
The doorway had been opened by Rhiannon, pulling all the witches to her so they could do their part in a place safe from the Zealot priests and priestesses.
Rhi ran out of a nearby tent with her travel bag and robe flopping behind. She was completely frazzled by the attack and worried for the lives of her kin. Talwyn, however, was glad she wouldn’t have to worry about protecting her younger cousin during the fight.
Rhi stopped to hug her father, her uncles, her great-uncles, her great-aunts, etc., while Morfyd waited . . . and waited . . . and waited. When the tears began, Talwyn moved closer to Morfyd.
Rhi stopped to hug Talan, sobbing on his shoulder and making him promise “not to die . . . ever!” before she came to Talwyn and hugged her.
Her cousin didn’t want to let go. She didn’t want to leave them all. But she needed to be someplace safe, away from here. Away from the Zealots. Talwyn knew this even if Rhi didn’t.
Talwyn pushed her away. “Go. Grandmother’s waiting.”
“Yes. Of course. Oh!” She started back toward her tent. “I forgot my—”
Talwyn grabbed her cousin by the back of her dress and tossed her into the open doorway.
“Talwyn!” her kin gasped, shocked. But if she didn’t do it, no one would.
Thank you, Morfyd mouthed at her before she followed Rhi inside and disappeared, the doorway slamming shut behind them.
Her kin watched her, still appalled by her behavior.
“Gods know someone had to,” she told them before walking off, Talan right behind her. Laughing.
* * *
“I feel like shit,” Brannie moaned.
“Worse than when you were on the boat?” she heard Keita ask from . . . somewhere.
Where were they anyway?
“Mention that boat again . . . and I will kill you.”
Someone put their arm around Brannie’s back and helped her sit up.
“I think you’ll live,” Keita said.
“I don’t believe you. I think I’m dying.”
“You were dying. You feeling like shit, cousin, means you’re getting better.”
“Why are you still talking, Keita? Stop talking.”
“Isn’t she delightful, Bolormaa?” Keita asked another female in the tent.
“I wish you would stop talking, too.”
“Och! All of you are so ungrateful.”
Sitting up with her knees raised, her elbows resting on them so she could cradle her head in her hands, Brannie accused, “You poisoned me, didn’t you?”
“Don’t flatter yourself! You’re not worthy of my poisoning skills. You took a blade to the arm from one of those assassins. They used poison on the edges. In fact, cousin, you’re lucky that I am as talented a poisoner as I am. Isn’t that right, Bolormaa? Tell her! Tell her how I saved her life.”
“Yes,” the shamaness said to Brannie. “Your cousin is such great murderer that she was able to save your life from death.”
“Really?” Keita snapped. “You couldn’t find a nicer way to say that?”
“No. I could not.” She took Brannie’s hand and wrapped it around a cool cup. “This is clean water. Drink. It will help.”
Realizing how thirsty she was, Brannie began to down the water, but Bolormaa stopped her and made her sip instead. It took longer, but once she was done, Brannie couldn’t believe how much better she felt. Worlds better.
“Where are we?” she asked Keita.
“With the Tribes of the Dark Mountain.”
Brannie gawked at Keita. “Were we captured?”
“Well . . . they think they captured us. But I actually found them.”
“Why would you do that? Why are you trying to kill me?”
“Och!” Keita again gasped, her arms flung in the air. “You are always so dramatic!”
Brannie glanced at the old woman tending her but Bolormaa could only shrug.
“You don’t understand, Brannie,” Keita went on. “I have a brilliant plan!”
“Oh, gods, not one of your brilliant plans.”
“You need to trust me.”
“But I don’t trust you. At all!”
“Of course you do. Besides, this new plan will mean I won’t have to kill the Empress and her kin! That’s a good thing, right? You didn’t want me to kill them, right?”
Bolormaa placed a cool cloth against Brannie’s forehead. “Just block her out. You will sleep better when you block her out.”
The tent flap was pulled back and a large man and several soldiers stormed in. They were armed and ready.
Although Brannie still had on her chain mail leggings, her shirt and boots were lying across the tent with her travel bag. Of course, she could shift to dragon but she might hurt Bolormaa and, as far as she could tell, the shamaness had helped her. So that would have to be a last ditch option.
She pressed the cloth against her head and made a quick scan of the room, looking for something she could turn into a weapon while letting her cousin do what she did so well.
Annoy people.
“Batu!” Keita cheered, throwing her arms around the big man with braided hair and a large, long beard. “I’m so glad you’re here! Brannie just woke up. Branwen, this is Batu the Iron Hearted. Batu, this is Brannie.”
Brannie eyed Batu—the brutal leader of these tribes—and he eyed her back.
“You,” he said, turning his attention to Keita, “did not tell me everything.”
“What didn’t I tell you?”
“You are not human.”
“Oh, gods no!” Keita laughed. “Wouldn’t that be horrible? Yuck!”
“Keita!” Brannie barked.
She dismissed Brannie with a wave. “Ignore her. She’s very sensitive to the needs of humans.”
“She looks like man.”
“Fuck you,” Brannie snapped back.
“Now, now. Everyone be calm. It’s important we get this moving.”
“Get what moving?” Batu demanded. “You need to leave, She-dragon.”
“Why would you throw me out when I can give you what you want?”
“What? What can you give me?”
Keita’s grin was ridiculously wide. “An alliance . . . with the Empress.”
Frowning, Batu stared at Keita. Then he turned to Brannie.
They both exploded into hysterical laughter at the same time.
Keita crossed her arms over her chest and tapped one bare foot.
“And what, exactly, do you two think is so funny?”
“You!” they laughingly yelled out at the same time.
* * *
Aidan moved deeper into the palace’s first floor.
The ceilings were so high and the room itself so big, that he was really tempted to call out to see if his voice echoed.
Gods, he didn’t want to be here. He didn’t want to be doing this. He wanted to be with Brannie. He
wanted to know she was safe. What if he never saw her again?
A small group of Eastland dragons in their human form stood in a circle across the hall. They were whispering and seemed concerned about something. Probably palace politics, which Aidan assumed were just like court politics.
Now standing in the middle of the hall, Aidan looked around and wondered what he should do next. Keep standing here? Find a room for everyone? Melt one of the gold dragon statues with his flame?
Aidan almost smiled at his ridiculous thoughts but then someone slammed into his back, which seemed rather on purpose since there was no one else in the entire giant room other than his small group and the small group of Eastland dragons.
“Sorry,” the She-dragon in human form muttered, her focus locked on the Eastland dragons, which was probably why she’d walked into him. She was dressed in worn clothes and boots, a longbow slung over her shoulder along with a quiver of arrows. She was tall and lean; her black-and-dark red hair was in a loose, rather messy braid that nearly reached her feet.
She stopped and looked directly at the Eastland dragons.
“What are you all doing here?” she called out.
“We’ve come to see the Empress,” one of the dragons volunteered. “We have a very important mess—”
She waved her hand at the group and turned from them, effectively dismissing them in mid-request. She looked next at Aidan.
“And who are you?”
“I’m Aidan the Divine.”
“A Southlander. Does the Empress know you’re here?”
“Well—”
She rolled her eyes and started walking. “Just come on. Don’t dawdle!”
Aidan began to follow. He had no idea who this female was but she seemed to be in charge. Maybe she was. Maybe she was the Empress despite the fact that she seemed way too young. But the Empress was a very powerful shamaness, with abilities similar to Rhiannon’s. Maybe she had a way of staying young.
Aidan shook his head. Now he was overthinking and coming to ridiculous conclusions like Brannie.
“Wait!” the Eastland dragon called out. “We must speak to the—”
“Shut up!” the female snarled back.
She led Aidan and the others behind several extremely large gold statues of big cats and into a marble hallway.
“Keep up!” she ordered.
Aidan followed her down several long hallways until they reached a wooden door. Soldiers in elaborate gold armor stood outside and they immediately jumped to attention when they saw her. One opened his mouth to say something but she held up a finger and snapped, “Quiet!”
She pushed the door open and motioned Aidan and the others in.
“Move! Hustle!”
Aidan, Uther, and Caswyn quickly walked in as ordered. But the Riders strolled in a little more slowly, taking their sweet-ass-Rider time.
“Do you not understand the word move?” the She-dragon asked.
“We understand,” Kachka replied, “we just ignore.”
“Barbarians,” she muttered before slamming the door and walking across the small room—small compared to the rest of the palace anyway—to another door, which she opened.
She gestured with a crook of her finger. “Come on.” She walked in.
Aidan again followed her, but stopped as soon as he stepped into the room. There were five more Eastland dragons in the room. Two males and three females. But it was the one wearing a gold dress and intricate gold nail guards on the pinky and ring fingers of both hands and sitting in a plain wood chair who simply had to be the Empress.
Her long black hair was pulled into a large bun at the back of her head and covered in decorative pieces of gold shaped into flowers. Dark brown eyes looked Aidan over and bare feet stuck out from under that gold dress, reminding him of Keita.
Unlike Keita, however, the Empress appeared worried, the fingers not wearing pointed nail guards rubbing her forehead, her elbow resting on the arm of the chair.
“Who is this?” the Empress asked, gesturing to Aidan with her free hand.
“Southland dragons and some barbarian women,” said the She-dragon who’d escorted them into the room. “I thought you’d want to see them right away.”
“Why would I want to see them right away?”
“They’re Southlanders.”
“What? You think all Southlanders know each other?” She looked Aidan and the others over. “As if my Keita would be involved with any of this riffraff.”
One of the Eastland males sighed and added for Aidan’s benefit, “No offense.”
Slapping her hand against the arm of the chair, the Empress sat up straight and snarled, “I don’t care if I offend them! I don’t care if I offend the entire universe!” She pointed at the male who’d spoken. “My baby is still gone and I’m tired of going back and forth with those idiots!”
“We’ll get him back.”
“And,” another female reminded her, “he’s not your only baby.”
Leaning forward, the Empress snarled, “He’s the only one that matters.”
“Ma!” several of the Eastland dragons yelled at the Empress.
“Do you want me to lie to all of you?”
“It’d be a nice change of pace,” one of them complained.
The Empress waved her hand at her own offspring and focused again on Aidan.
“So, Southlander, who are you?”
“Uh . . . I’m Aidan the Divine of the House of Foulkes de Chuid Fennah. Third son of Jarlath and Gormlaith—”
Holding up her hand, the Empress cut him off. She took a moment to look him over completely before asking, “You’re a Southlander royal?”
Aidan glanced down at himself. “Cut me some slack. It’s been a rough few days.”
* * *
“You are foolish She-dragon if you think you can make me and your Empress friends.”
“I didn’t say friends, Batu. You and I are friends.”
“No, we are not.”
“I’m talking about an alliance between you and the Empress. And that’s more important for your needs.”
“The Empress hates my people. She has no respect for the tribes that made this country what it is. Why would she want alliance now?”
“Because she needs one now.”
Brannie took the chain mail shirt and boots that Bolormaa handed to her. “Keita, just get to it. I’m running out of patience.”
Batu pointed at Brannie. “Her I like.”
Keita’s eyes narrowed on the tribal leader, but Brannie snapped her fingers to catch her cousin’s attention before she got into one of her moods.
“Fine,” Keita said. “It came to me when I saw who was trying to kill me. I’d always assumed it was the Empress—”
“Because everyone wants you dead?”
“No, Batu. Everyone loves me. I’m Keita.”
Brannie pulled on her shirt and asked Keita, “If it wasn’t the Empress, who was it?”
“I think it was her brother.”
Batu straightened. “Lord Xing? What does he want with you?”
“He wants me dead—”
“I want you dead.”
“Perhaps”—Keita sneered at Batu—“but not for the same reasons I’m sure.”
Brannie pulled her boots on. “What reasons could he have?”
“I think he was afraid I’d find out the truth and get that information to the Empress.”
Tucking her wonderful new weapon back into her boot—Batu had no idea how dangerous her “stick” was—Brannie paused and looked at her cousin. “What truth?”
“That Xing has already made an alliance . . . with Salebiri.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The Empress’s head tilted to the side. “How do you lose a princess, Mì-runach?”
There had been introductions and a brief update on what had happened in the last few days, but Aidan was still holding much back. He had to. His goal at the moment was the same as it had been hours ago . . . to k
eep the Empress off Brannie’s and Keita’s back.
“It’s complicated,” he replied.
“Is it?” she asked, not looking terribly convinced.
“My lady, she ran.”
“From you? What did you do to her?” She pointed an accusing finger at Kachka and the others. “Was it these unclean Riders?”
“No. She ran from you. From your army.”
“Keita would never run from me. I adore her more than my own children . . . except for Ren.”
“Really, Ma?” asked her eldest daughter, Fang, the archer they’d originally met. “Really?”
Everyone in the room except the Southlanders and the Riders were kin. Along with Empress Xinyi, there were her two sons, eldest Zhi and third oldest Kang; and her three daughters: second oldest Fang, fourth oldest Ju, and youngest daughter Lei. Ren was the baby of the group. They were all members of the Chosen Dynasty, the royal family of the Eastlands for the last three thousand years.
Aidan had expected all the pomp and circumstance he’d seen in the main hall to continue with the family, but it didn’t.
Fang liked to hunt down her own meat apparently.
Zhi enjoyed reading and was seriously considering becoming a monk in the service of one of the Eastland gods.
Lei had on a dress but it was covered in dirt and leaves and she was currently resting on the floor, her legs up against a wall.
Kang and Ju were warriors, in gold-and-black chain mail, armed to the teeth, and more than ready for any of the Southlanders to test their strength and speed.
In a lot of ways, they reminded him of Rhiannon and her offspring, but he wasn’t about to say that. He really didn’t know if they would consider it an insult or not.
“Stop complaining, Fang,” her mother said. “I’m waiting for an answer from this cretin.”
Wanting to see how the Empress would react, Aidan replied, “Assassins have come after Keita twice, my lady. Once in the Southlands near the docks. And then again at the Heaven’s Destroyers Temple.”
She pulled back a bit. “I would never attack Keita anywhere, at any time, but especially at the Destroyers Temple. Everyone allowed entry into that sacred space is considered protected. To attack the inhabitants is to risk the wrath of the gods.”