Chapter 33
With soldiers surrounding them, they were walked out of the jail and through the city. Izzy had no idea where she was going, but she truly hoped it was to the Nolwenns. She longed to see that bitch so she could tell her how horrible she was before handing her sister over to her. Izzy still shuddered at that, giving her sister over to the Nolwenns, but what could she do?
After about fifteen minutes of traveling through the city’s central market, they turned down a street and stopped in front of a building. The captain looked at her men. “You lot wait out here.”
“Captain, you sure?”
She nodded. “Yes.” She motioned to Izzy and Éibhear. “You two come with me.”
Izzy looked at Macsen. “Wait here,” she told him. She didn’t try to bring the dog with her because she knew she’d have Éibhear with her inside and Macsen would warn her of any problems that came from the outside.
The dog sat, tongue hanging out, already starting to drool. She stopped long enough to give him some water from her canteen, then went inside behind the captain.
Izzy had barely gotten a few feet when she realized that she was in a home.
“The Nolwenns are here?” she asked.
“I can’t get you in to the Nolwenns. They have no interest in seeing me.”
“Then what are we doing here?”
The captain didn’t answer; she just kept walking through the house. It was a lovely place. Lots of white linen and comfortable furniture. And even though it was hot out on the streets, it was cool inside.
After several minutes, they made it to the back of the home and into an open area with grass and a covering over the top made of more white linen and large, leafy trees. This outside area was filled with women, men, and children. The older women and men, plus the younger children, were dressed in loose-fitting clothing that covered and protected them from the sun. But the older teens and the adults wore the same light armor that the captain wore.
“Mum’s home!” one of the children called out and several of them ran over to hug her.
Another strong-looking, older female in armor stepped forward. “Who’ve you brought with you, Layla?”
The captain took off her helm. “This is General Iseabail from Dark Plains. One of Queen Annwyl’s generals.”
Suddenly looking very concerned, the older woman demanded, “Why is she here?”
“I thought you should meet properly. General Iseabail, this is my mother, General Maskini. She is commander of the city’s army.”
Izzy frowned, her gaze moving off.
“What is it?” Éibhear whispered.
“Feel like I’ve heard that name before.”
“And Mum,” Captain Layla continued, “this is Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith. Who is Daughter of Haldane.”
Everything in that small area seemed to stop, all eyes focusing on Izzy. Part of her wanted to back up, but as a soldier of the Blood Queen’s army, she would never yield. So Izzy stood her ground and asked, “Is my mother your enemy?”
General Maskini walked up to Izzy, stared at her for several long moments, until, finally, she burst into tears.
The general’s sobs were so great, she stumbled and Éibhear immediately caught her in his arms. He took her to a chair and lowered her into it.
An elderly woman made her way through the staring people in the backyard. Éibhear noticed that she had the same eyes as many of the others. The same as Izzy’s eyes. Talaith had always said that Izzy had her father’s eyes. Light brown and intense . . . just like her.
The elderly woman clutched her hands together. “Your name is . . .” She cleared her throat, tried again. “Your name is Iseabail?”
“Aye. My kin call me Izzy.”
“Your kin?”
“My family.”
“A family of your blood?”
“No. My mother . . .” She struggled for the right word. “She married my father. I was adopted by his family.” She pointed at Éibhear. “That’s my uncle.”
And Éibhear tried not to panic when all those male eyes focused on him with clear hostility. He hadn’t even touched Izzy. Hadn’t done anything to suggest . . . and yet they knew, didn’t they? Males always knew.
“So you never met your birth father?”
“No.” Izzy began to wipe her hands on her leggings. One of the signs that she was nervous. Éibhear hadn’t seen her do that in ages. Not since her mother had confronted her about Rhydderch Hael and the brand he’d burned into her arm. “My mother said he died before I was born.”
“Do you know his name?”
Izzy closed her eyes and repeated what her mother had most likely told her a very long time ago, “Sethos, son of . . . son of . . .” She cleared her throat. “Son of Maskini.”
The elderly woman reached out and took Izzy’s hands in her own. “And grandson of Zarah. Most beloved grandson, my dearest Iseabail. Most beloved.”
Izzy gazed at the woman holding her hands. But suddenly, abruptly, she pulled away. “I’m . . . I’m sorry. I just . . . I just can’t.”
Shocked, Éibhear watched her as she fled back inside the house.
“Izzy!” He got up to go after her, but Zarah stopped him, her hand resting against his forearm.
“Give her a minute. I know this can’t be easy for her.”
The woman had absolutely no idea.
Izzy ran through the house, but it was large and long and before she knew it, she had no idea how to get out again. Desperate, she realized that at the very least, she wanted a quiet space to get control of herself.
She went down a hallway but saw two of the soldiers who’d escorted her and Éibhear here.
Unwilling to let
any
soldiers see her like this, Izzy went through the first door she found and quickly closed it, both hands pressing into the wood, her body leaning forward. And that’s when the tears came. She tried to stop them, but she simply couldn’t. Even worse, she chanted what she’d chanted the first time she was caught in a burning building during a battle and couldn’t find her way out, “Mum . . . gods, Mum . . .”
“Don’t let her do that to you.”
Startled, Izzy spun around, her back against the door. “Sorry, I . . .”
“My daughter is only tough on the ones she thinks have some promise.”
Izzy shook her head. “No, I—”
“It’s all right. I won’t tell her I saw a thing. Take a moment, catch your breath.”
The man appeared to be in his sixtieth winter or so, his grey hair cut very short, his arms bulging with muscles. He had a sword in his hand and she realized he was a blacksmith and this was his workshop. She’d managed to step outside again, the house going from out to in and back again like a lovely maze.
Izzy wiped her face with her palms and stepped farther inside. The weapons were beautiful things. Lots of curved swords and gold and steel daggers, many adorned with jewels. Unlike the weapons that were popular in Dark Plains, these appeared ornamental, but Izzy knew weapons and these were as deadly as they were beautiful. They reminded Izzy of the weapons Annwyl wore during family parties and important events, given to her by Fearghus.
“Your work is beautiful,” Izzy said.
“Thank you.”
She pointed at one of the swords. “May I?”
“If you’d like.”
She picked up one of the bigger swords and marveled at the lightness of it. Throwing herself into the safety of what she knew—battle and war and weapons—Izzy walked over to a clear area and lifted the sword. She gave a few practice swings, not sure if she’d like to work with these curved swords. But it was always nice to test out other weapons, to see what different armies used.
When Izzy lowered the sword, the man watched her intently. His pleasant expression replaced by a deep frown.
“I’m sorry.” Izzy quickly replaced the weapon, thinking she must have crossed some kind of cultural divide she hadn’t been aware of.
“You’re not a trainee, are you?” he asked.
“No, sir. Not anymore.”
“You have true skill. And strength.” His eyes narrowed a bit. “Where are you from?”
Izzy sighed. “That’s a bit complicated.”
He put the weapon he’d been sharpening on the floor and stepped away from the table. “Do I know you?” he asked.
She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
“Then why do I feel like I do?”
“I have to go.”
“Please don’t.”
Izzy moved toward the door. “I do. Someone is waiting for me. He’ll be worried.” She got to the door, but a large hand pressed against it. She could remove that hand, but she wasn’t sure she could fight anyone at the moment.
“Look at me. Please.”
Izzy slowly turned to face the man. She realized she was crying again when tears fell on her chest.
He lifted her chin and looked into her face.
“By the holy suns,” he whispered, both hands now framing her face. “How did I not see it as soon as you walked in? How did I not know?”
“I have to go,” Izzy begged, the sobs making it hard to get the words out. “I have to.”
Big arms went around her, pulled her in close. “But you’ve come home, my beautiful child. Where are you planning to go when you’ve come home?”
Chapter 34
Éibhear sat in a chair, all the humans staring at him. He hadn’t felt this uncomfortable since he’d been captured by an Ice Land troop and strapped over a pointy stake. His Mì-runach brethren had saved him that day, but he wouldn’t be saved today. Unfortunately.
Finally, one of the inquisitive children said, “Why are you so pale? Are you dying?”
“No.”
An older child then asked, “Did you know your hair was blue?”
“I am aware.”
“Why is your hair blue?”
“Well . . . uh . . .” Gods, where had Izzy gone? How could she just desert him like this? He understood she was overwhelmed, but . . . but he needed her!
One of the women dressed in armor leaned in close. So close he thought she might kiss him. At least she was pretty. “Are you a dragon?”
Éibhear had to work hard not to jump at her question, but he was more than a little surprised.
“Why do you ask?”
“Because we get some here. They pretend to be human.” She leaned in even closer. “Their hair’s different from yours. Colored real bright. But they’re pale like you.”
“Must be the scales.”
“Is Iseabail safe around you?” Zarah asked, one of her grandsons helping her into a chair across from Éibhear.
“Safer than even she realizes.”
That answer seemed to satisfy everyone because they moved back a little, giving him a bit of space, so that he could finally breathe.
“So, dragon,” one of the males asked, “who are your people then? Or do you have people? Do you have lizards?”
“I am not a lizard. Nor can I communicate with them. But I do have people.”
“How can you have people when you’re not human?”
“Having one’s own people is not limited to humans. It’s a common term used not only by dragons but by centaurs and Minotaurs and those jackal-headed men that you Desert Landers have running around. So yes, I’m a dragon
and
I have people.”
“Then who are they exactly?”
“I’m Éibhear the Contemptible. Youngest born son in the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, fifth in line to the throne of the White Dragon Queen, Scourge of the Northland territories, Most Reviled Enemy Dragon of the Ice Lands, Honored Member of the Mì-runach, and bare-fisted champion of the Mì-runach Yearly Pit Fights three winters in a row.”
The entire clan was silent, all of them staring at him until Zarah finally asked, “You’re a prince?”
“Aye. Izzy’s a princess, too.”
“How is she a princess?”
“Talaith is with my brother, Briec the Mighty.”
Everyone started talking at once and Éibhear couldn’t really understand anyone. But then Zarah snapped, “Quiet!” And they all were.
She leaned forward and asked, “Talaith is with a dragon?”
“Aye.”
“How did this happen? Was she handed over in sacrifice?”
“No one really does that anymore in Dark Plains. And no one’s forced Talaith to be with Briec. She’s with him because she loves him. She wouldn’t be with him otherwise. My brother’s too irritating for anyone who doesn’t love him.”
“Talaith loves a dragon?”
“We’re very loveable. Most of us.”
“And how does your dragon brother feel about Iseabail?”
“He adores her. Briec calls her his perfect,
perfect
daughter.”
Another of Zarah’s grandson’s folded his arms across his chest and asked, “And are you her perfect,
perfect
uncle?”
“Not by blood.”
“Did your brother adopt her?”
“Yes.”
“Then you’re her uncle.”
“Yes, but not by blood.”
“And that point matters?”
“Trust me,” Éibhear insisted. “It matters.”
“I should have realized you were my grandchild immediately,” Zachariah said as he poured Iseabail a cup of coffee. “You look so much like my boy.”
And your mother.
He placed the cup in front of Iseabail and sat down across from her at his work table.
“I’m sorry I got so upset,” she said, her eyes downcast. “I just didn’t—”
“You were overwhelmed. It’s understandable.”
“I should get back to Éibhear.”
“No. You should stay here. Drink your coffee. He’ll be fine. The family will take care of him.”
She picked up the cup and held it in her hands. Zachariah studied her while she studied the cup. Mighty suns, his boy would be proud of her. She was strong, healthy, and beautiful. But there were questions Zachariah had. Ones he simply couldn’t wait to ask, even though he knew he should.
“Iseabail—”
“Izzy. You can call me Izzy.”
“Izzy, why . . .” He cleared his throat, tried again. “You may not know the answer to this, but why did your mother not come to us? When your grandmother threw her out? We would have taken her in. I thought she understood that.”
“It’s very complicated, I’m afraid,” Izzy sighed out.
“Complicated?”
“Well, anytime you deal with gods, it gets complicated.”
“Gods? Oh, of course, your mother is a Nolwenn.”
“I think being a Nolwenn had little to do with it. She just wanted to make sure she had someone strong enough and smart enough to do the task and that turned out to be Talaith.”
“Wait. Who is ‘she’ then?”
“Arzhela.”
“The goddess?”
“Right. She needed someone to kill Annwyl and just used me to keep my mother in line while Mum became an assassin.”
“Your mother’s an assassin? How the hells did that . . .” Zachariah stopped talking, thinking of everything the girl had just told him. “Did you say Ann . . . Annwyl? The Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle?”
“Aye. She hates when people call her that, though, so I wouldn’t. Besides, she’s not nearly as crazy as everyone accuses her of being. True, she’ll cut your head off as soon as look at you, but only if you’re an enemy. She’d never do it to family.”
“All right.”
“Mum tried to kill her, too, and Annwyl forgave her, then took us in. So my aunt is extremely misunderstood.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll be honest, though.” She rested her arms on the table, her hands still around the cup. “I’m quite torn. If Mum had stayed here, I’d just be another Nolwenn, casting spells and making appointments with royals. But because of what happened to Mum, I’ve seen the world, led legions into battle, and I have a little sister I can’t imagine not having in my life. But I feel so guilty when I think like that. It’s like being glad all those horrible things happened to Mum and my birth father.”
“That’s ridiculous, and as a soldier you should know that. Making the best of what you have, of what you’ve been left with, does not make you anything more than human.” Zachariah studied her a moment, then asked, “Is that why you’re here, Izzy? To avenge your mother?”
“No. I need Haldane’s help for my sister.”
“And if Haldane doesn’t help you?”
“She’d be foolish not to be of help to me. The last thing she wants is the wrath of my grandmother coming down on her head.” When Zachariah frowned, she added, “My adoptive grandmother. Queen Rhiannon.”
“Rhiannon? Why do I know that name?”
“She’s the Dragon Queen of the Southlands and a powerful Dragonwitch.”
Zachariah stared at his son’s child. “
That
Rhiannon is your adoptive grandmother?”
“Well, when Daddy took Mum as his mate, the entire House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar and the Cadwaladr Clan accepted both of us as their kin.”
Sitting up straight, Zachariah said, “Are you telling me your adoptive father is a—”
“Dragon? Aye. Briec the Mighty. Second oldest son of the Dragon Queen, second in line to the throne—”
“I don’t give a damn about his titles, girl. Why is your mother trapped with a dragon?”
“I wouldn’t say she’s trapped. Although she would, especially when Daddy hasn’t checked her fruit appropriately.”
“Checked her fruit?”
“You don’t want to know. But no. She’s not trapped. She could leave, but she’d break his heart. He loves her. Loves me and, of course, there’s Rhi, which is why I’m here.”
“And who’s Rhi again?”
“My sister. Their daughter.”
Appalled and confused at the same time, “Talaith had a child with that . . . that . . .”
“That dragon. Aye. They had my beautiful sister, Rhianwen. Rhi for short.”
“Izzy, how is that even possible?”
“Gods.”
“Gods?”
“Aye. That’s how Annwyl had her twins with my uncle Fearghus. But, you see,” she went on without a breath, “I thought it was Rhydderch Hael again who made it so she could get pregnant by Daddy—Rhydderch Hael is the father god of all dragons—but he said he wouldn’t do that for my mum because she wasn’t talking to him so he wasn’t talking to her. I’m not talking to him either, but with me, he won’t shut up.”
“The gods talk to you?”
“Only one. Now, my Aunt Dagmar—you might have heard of her as the Northland Beast—”
“I thought that was a man.”
“A lot of people make that mistake. Anyway, she talks to gods all the time.”
“A religious woman then?”
She laughed. “Dagmar? No. She’s a follower of Aoibhell.” “The heretic?”
“I wouldn’t call her that unless you have an hour or two to listen to why Aoibhell was not a heretic and why you should care about the distinction, which I’m assuming you really don’t want because that can be overwhelming and you seem like a man who has little time for what Daddy calls Dagmar the Beast’s Unholy and Nonsensical Ramblings.”
Zachariah stared at his son’s child for a long time, then finally said, “You are so like your mother.”
Izzy’s smile was wide and just like her father’s. “Awww, that’s so sweet. Thank you.”
A knock at the door helped Zachariah extract himself from the non-direction this conversation was taking.
“Enter.”
At first Zachariah thought a bear that had lost his fur in some sort of tragic accident had wandered into his forge. What other answer could explain the thing with long blue hair that took up his entire doorway?
“What’s wrong?” Izzy asked it, and that’s when Zachariah realized that the thing she was talking to was the Éibhear she’d spoken of earlier.
“Just checking on you.”
“I’m fine.”
“Having a nice chat then?”
“Not having an unpleasant chat.”
Zachariah heard a horrible, grinding noise, his gaze desperately searching the room in an attempt to find out where it might be coming from.
“Don’t look at me that way, Izzy,” the giant ordered her. “I’m hungry.”
“Go get something to eat then.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
“I’ll be perfectly fine. I don’t need your protection.”
“I’m not leaving you anyway.”
“Because you’re my uncle and you love me?”
Zachariah watched the pair, the way the giant’s jaw clenched and unclenched. And the way Izzy smiled. Zachariah knew that damn smile. That mischievous, “I’m enjoying tormenting you” smile that his son had managed to perfect when he was still a boy.
Yes, this woman, this powerful general and warrior
was
his granddaughter.
And this giant . . . loved her.
“Izzy—”
“Say because you’re my uncle and you love me. It will make my grandfather feel more comfortable with you around his family. He wouldn’t want them to be unsafe just because of me.”
“I will not say—”
“You will or I’m telling Daddy!”
“Is that what you say to your troops?” the giant shot back. “You’ll tell your daddy on them if they don’t follow your orders?”
“If it’s necessary to get them to do what I want.”
Zachariah looked up at the giant. “So you’re Izzy’s
uncle
?”
“Not by blood.”
“And that matters?”
“It matters.”
Another grinding sound came from the giant’s stomach.
“Like two mountains shifting,” Izzy muttered.
“Well, if you fed me!”
“
Should I feed you like a mother bird to a baby chick?
”
“All right.” Zachariah stood. “You’ll both eat with us.” He glared at the giant. “With us, foreigner.
With us
.”
The giant scratched his big head. “As opposed to . . .”