“No,” Vateria replied. “I killed my children. So they would not be captured by the likes of you.”
Blinking hard in shock, Annwyl muttered, “Wow.”
“So come, Gaius. Come, Blood Queen. Do your worst to me.”
Annwyl was ready to do just that after what Vateria had done to her own children, but then she heard it. The telltale bang-drag, bang-drag, bang-drag.
Moving slowly from behind them, panting with exertion, Brigida entered the castle, and the Cadwaladrs parted without waiting for her to ask.
And Annwyl did the same.
The old She-dragon, in her human form, made her way over to Vateria until she was only a few feet away. She raised her free hand and flicked it in their direction.
“Out. All of you.”
And they all left. Again, without question. Even Gaius.
They walked away from the castle, back to the armies, where they waited.
When they heard the first scream coming from the castle, they moved farther away.
No one wanted to know what Brigida was doing. What Vateria was going through.
Once again, not even Gaius, who hated his cousin with every fiber of his being.
As orders were given to the various armies and the preparations began for the long trips home, eventually they all seemed to forget about Vateria and whatever horror she was going through.
For all she had done, maybe she deserved the suffering.
But then, after a few hours, Annwyl went back to the castle. There were no guards, no soldiers, no servants left here. Just a lump under a tapestry.
Annwyl went over and pulled the material back. She cringed and stepped away, her fist pressing against her nose to block out the smell of an already-decomposing corpse. A human corpse that did not change back to dragon in death, which Annwyl had never heard of before.
But it was the face . . . or what was left of it that disturbed Annwyl the most. Such horror, such unbelievable terror on that rotting face. Frozen that way in death.
“Gods, Vateria,” Annwyl whispered, “what the hells did she do to you?”
* * *
Benedetto stayed hidden in the woods, tears streaming down his face. When the final battle had turned, his mother had smuggled him out through the tunnels but she had stayed behind, knowing that the Abominations wouldn’t stop until they’d tracked her down.
He didn’t know if his brothers had gotten out. Something told him they hadn’t. That she’d also used the younger boys to protect him.
But now what was he to do? He had no one and nowhere to go.
Benedetto’s head snapped up when he heard someone coming through the trees toward him. He started to jump up, but a gravelly, rough voice said, “Don’t bother. I know you’re there, boy.”
He sat back down. Good. He’d been caught. Now they could kill him and it would be over.
She came out of the trees, covered head to toe in a gray robe, her face hidden. But he saw her walking stick, saw the power that emanated from it. He was doomed.
She stopped in front of him and he could smell the flame that was buried under human skin. A She-dragon.
“You’re her boy, ain’t’ cha?”
“I am.”
“And proud, too.”
“I’ll always be proud of my mother. Now just kill me and get it over with.”
“I could kill ya, but looking at you, such a strong, young boy with so much untapped power . . . I think I got a better plan now.”
“Plan for what?”
“To get me an apprentice.”
Confused, Benedetto asked, “But . . . why? I mean, you’re with the Abominations, aren’t you?”
“They’re kin.”
“Then why? Why would you want me as an apprentice?”
“Well . . . I guess I feel I owe your mum a bit. For me new life.”
“New life?”
She pulled back the hood of her robe and Benedetto gasped at the beautiful face staring at him. With one big blue eye and long, soft white hair falling onto smooth cheeks. Only her one milky-gray eye suggested a harder life than Benedetto had ever experienced.
He didn’t understand. From the voice, he’d thought the She-dragon would be ancient. But her face . . . her hands . . . everything but her voice was young.
“Come, boy. Let’s get you safe.”
Not knowing what else to do, he stood and together they walked away from the war and the life Benedetto had once had.
“What’s your name, boy?” the She-dragon asked.
“Benedetto. Benedetto Salebiri.”
“Well, I’m your new mistress, Benedetto. I will teach you what I know.”
“All right.”
They walked on and, finally, when she still had not killed him or led him into a group of armed Abominations scouring the hills for any survivors—simply toying with him as his mother would have anyone else—he asked, “And your name, Mistress?”
“Name’s Brigida. Brigida the Most Foul.” She tossed her walking stick to him and picked up her speed, nearly skipping to wherever she was leading him. “And we’ll be close, you and I, Benedetto. And true power will be all ours.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Brannie and Izzy sat on one of the hills looking down at what was left of the battleground.
They were silent for a very long time, gazing at their soldiers killing any Zealots still left. Annwyl didn’t want any captives. She just wanted the Zealots wiped out.
A few had probably escaped but Brannie doubted the power of the cult would return. Who would want to be part of a defeated, eyeless cult?
Suddenly Izzy looked at her and asked, “Who gets trapped under a mountain?”
Brannie laughed. “It just went down.”
“I can’t believe you didn’t fly away. You must have been distracted.” Izzy smirked. “Was it Aidan distracting you?”
“Nope. It was Caswyn. He ate me horse.”
Izzy gasped. “Not Puddles!”
“My Puddles. I should have killed the idiot when I had the chance, because now it’ll just seem wrong after all we’ve been through together.”
“I’m sure I could get his Mì-runach brethren to beat him up for you.”
“Don’t bother. It won’t bring back Puddles.”
Izzy put her arm around Brannie’s shoulders. “Don’t worry. We’ll get you a new horse. It won’t be Puddles, but you’ll learn to love your next one, too.”
“I know you’re right.”
Izzy rested her head on Brannie’s shoulder and quietly admitted, “I’m so glad you’re not dead.”
“Me too.”
“And I’m glad you’re back.”
“Iz, you have no idea. Keita’s insane.”
“Oh, that I know.”
“There you are.” Éibhear dropped down next to Izzy and handed her a leather bag with dried meat. “Eat. Both of you.”
Brannie was just reaching for the bag when Aidan sat down next to her, Uther next to him, and Caswyn next to Uther.
“You all right?” Aidan asked.
“I’m fine.” That’s when she felt Izzy jab her in the ribs with her elbow.
Brannie snatched the bag of dried meat from her friend and barked, “Stop it.”
Izzy leaned forward and for a second of panic, Brannie was afraid her best friend was about to say something that would embarrass her in front of Aidan.
Thankfully she didn’t.
“Caswyn! You ate Puddles?”
“Awww,” Éibhear said, also leaning forward to look at his friend. “Not good ol’ Puddles!”
Caswyn balled his hands into fists and screamed out, “He was dying anywayyyyyyy!”
* * *
Annwyl heard a scream and turned around, looking up at the hills in the distance.
“So,” she asked Fearghus, continuing on with their conversation, “Brannie was gone, too?”
“Aye. We thought she’d been killed when the mountains went down.”
“Tough like her mother, that one.”
“Very true.” She heard him take a breath. “Annwyl . . . we have an issue.”
She faced her mate. “The Salebiri castle, right? I say we raze it to the bloody ground, salt the earth, and cover it with rocks. I don’t want anyone coming here to worship.”
“I’m not talking about the castle.”
“Oh, then what?”
Fearghus gestured to the left. “You can’t keep your demon army.”
“But they said I was their queen.”
“Annwyl—”
“Oh, come on! Why can’t I have a demon army? I killed their leader. Apparently that’s all it takes.”
“They belong in hell. They’ll be happier in hell. I’ll be happier with them in hell.”
Annwyl looked at Fearghus’s kin huddled by a tree, closely watching the demons.
“What do you lot think?”
“Send them back!” they all yelled at her.
“Well, no need to bark at me.” She again looked at Fearghus. “Fine. I’ll send them back.”
“Thank you. Now what about the cattle? The ones the demons call the corpse-eaters?”
“But look at the bang-up job they’ve done cleaning up for us,” Annwyl argued. “Usually we have to burn all these bodies, which is an awful mess and smell. But look . . . they’re halfway done and they’re just calmly grazing.”
“Annwyl . . . you’ll have to send them back, too. And that includes the baby.”
“But we’ve bonded!” she argued. “And the mother likes me.”
“But you’d never separate a mother from her baby, so we all know that you’ll want to keep both.”
“I like his mother.”
“No. You’ll have to send your demons back to hell.”
“You’re all being unreasonable, but I’ll do it.”
“You can wait til they’re finished grazing, though,” one of Rhy’s daughters said, causing everyone to stare at her. “You lot won’t be the one who has to burn bodies. Me and the grunts will. So let them finish.”
“Lazy,” Ghleanna complained before walking away, the rest of the Cadwaladrs going off to get their work done.
When they were alone, Fearghus gazed down at Annwyl and said, “You went to one of the hells and you came back with an army. That’s impressive.”
Annwyl shrugged. “He wanted our children, and he was planning to use me to do it. You know how that sort of thing makes me.”
“Insane with rage?”
“Exactly.” Annwyl stepped closer and whispered to Fearghus, “My father and brother were down there.”
“What? You saw them?”
“They came for me. To hurt me.”
“What happened?”
“Broke me brother’s arm, didn’t I? And when I dealt with the demon lord, he ran away like the big wanker he always was.”
“And your father?”
“I let the baby eat him since he was basically a corpse anyway.”
Fearghus started laughing. “You what?”
“He apparently was quite disappointed that I fuck a dragon and felt the need to tell me that, which was rude.”
Still laughing, he put his arm around her waist and pulled her in close. “Annwyl the Bloody, you never fail to amaze me.”
“I did tell him that he should get to know his grandchildren and that Talwyn, especially, would adore meeting him.”
Fearghus dropped his head back and laughed loud, some of the soldiers stopping their work to see what the dragon known as Fearghus the Destroyer could be laughing about.
* * *
Ghleanna the Decimator was now the rank of major general of Her Majesty’s Dragon Army. She had been promoted to the position three years ago and was put in charge of the Fifth Battalion.
It hadn’t been easy getting this rank. She’d worked her ass off for it. And although some tried to accuse the Cadwaladrs of nepotism, giving their own an easy time of it, everyone eventually learned there was no free ride for any of them. In fact, Cadwaladrs were brutally hard on their own kin during training because they cared more if one of their own died in battle. They felt they’d failed to prepare them.
Which was why Ghleanna had always worried about her Branwen more than some of her other offspring. She’d been afraid the brutal training would change who she was. Would take away that spark that made Branwen Brannie.
But eventually Ghleanna had realized she had nothing to worry about.
Standing by a tree, she watched her daughter talking to her cousin-by-mating and best friend Izzy, telling some story about drunk Caswyn, Uther, and the Riders. And Branwen didn’t simply talk . . . she acted it all out as well.
“So, of course, I shoved him into the wall,” Brannie said, throwing out her arms to demonstrate the force she’d used. “I mean, why wouldn’t I? He ate Puddles.”
“Still can’t believe he did that.”
“I still can’t believe those two idiots told the Riders everything! Then we had Riders with us! Not that I minded. I mean, you can’t beat having Kachka at your side.”
“I know! She’s bloody amazing in a fight!”
“But, of course, Keita is complaining. Constantly! And I’m worried she’s going to poison everybody. Like no one’s safe!” she announced, her arms going wide.
Ghleanna laughed, as always entertained by her youngest daughter.
Brannie turned, saw her mother, and ran to her, throwing her arms around her and hugging her tight. None of that “we’re on a battlefield, we’re in charge, we must be stoic until in private” stuff for her Brannie. She showed love where and when she wanted and didn’t care who saw. Of course, the only one really bothered by that was Bercelak but Ghleanna also knew that Brannie was his favorite niece.
Ghleanna pushed her daughter back and took her hands in her own. “I want to tell you that you did an amazing job, Brannie. I know you didn’t want to do any of this, but I’m really glad you did.”
“I’m glad I did it, too. I think any of my sisters or cousins would have killed Keita right from the start.”
“Did you hear?” Izzy asked, slinging her arm over Bran’s shoulder.
“Shut up, Izzy,” Brannie warned, which made Ghleanna want to hear whatever was going on immediately.
“Our Branwen has a gentleman suitor.” Izzy frowned, looked off, and changed it to, “Gentle-dragon suitor.”
Brannie rolled her eyes but so did Ghleanna.
“That’s nothing new,” Ghleanna told her niece. “Everyone knows Aidan likes my Branwen. And he’s liked her for ages now.”
Brannie pulled away from her mother. “That’s not true!”
“Branwen.”
And that was all Ghleanna said before walking away, leaving her daughter standing there, annoyed and frustrated.
* * *
“What was that tone?” Brannie asked Izzy.
“I think that was your mother’s version of ‘duh.’”
Brannie stepped close to Izzy and pointed her finger right in her face. “Listen to me and listen to me good. Aidan and I are not—”
“Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah!” Izzy covered her ears with her hands. “I’m not listening! I’m not listening! I’m not listening!” And she kept chanting that over and over while running away.
Brannie put her hands to her forehead and rubbed.
“You all right?” Aidan asked as he came to stand by her.
“Everyone I know is insane.”
“Are you just figuring that out?”
“Oh, shut up!”
“Fair enough. Here.” He held a bottle in front of her. “Ragnar gave me a bottle of—”
“Ale!” She grabbed the bottle from his hand. “Thank the gods!”
Brannie walked off, but realized Aidan wasn’t behind her.
“Well, come on then!”
“Am I allowed to come with my ale?”
“Oh, shut up and get your ass over here!”
* * *
Aid
an found a nice, quiet cove outside of a nearby bay. He’d hoped to find a quiet cave but, of course, all the local mountains had been brought down by the Zealots and the hills were simply too small. Even when he and Brannie were human.
But the cove worked for them both. No one had anything fresh to eat—the armies had been at the front for months and months—but he did find more dried beef and some flat bread for them to eat while they enjoyed the Northlanders’ ale.
“So what’s wrong?” he asked when they were settled and Brannie had enjoyed a few sips—or gulps—of the ale.
“Nothing.”
“Really? Nothing? You’re gritting your teeth.”
“I’m not gritting my teeth.”
He pressed his finger against her jaw.
“All right, fine! I’m gritting my teeth.”
Aidan laughed. “And I ask again, what’s wrong?”
“I hate when everyone acts like things are written in stone. How about leaving things to me? Letting me handle things?”
“Brannie . . . you are in charge of two dragon companies with the nicknames Destruction and On Pain of Death. In what world are you not handling anything?”
“Why do you always have to be so bloody rational?”
“Are you aware of whom I associate with? Do you honestly not understand what I deal with on a daily basis?”
Brannie began to giggle.
“I love my brethren, would die for any one of them, but I have no delusions about their incredibly high level of idiocy. If it wasn’t for me and a few other Mì-runach who like to think things through . . . we’d all be dead.”
Laughing harder, Brannie nodded. “Fine. I get it. We all do what we must. That’s why Keita’s still alive and I didn’t stab her in the face.”
“I was amazed about that,” he admitted. “Several times I thought she was definitely dead.”
“It crossed my mind more times than I could ever admit to my kin.”
She took another swig of ale before handing it back to Aidan.
“Let’s stay here tonight,” she suggested, looking at him. “You and me. Fucking.”
Aidan smiled. “I will always enjoy your subtlety.”
“I’m a Cadwaladr. That was subtle.”
He raised the bottle. “Then here’s to a night of fucking.”