Chapter 36
“They’re getting ready to strike,” Rhiannon called out to the weak little humans. “Everyone inside. Quickly now.” She had no idea she’d enjoy being helpful. But she did! She felt like a mother hen.
People were rushing into the castle for safety, but Talaith and Ebba ran out.
“What are you two doing out here? The Tribesmen are right outside. They’re about to strike.”
“The children,” Ebba said. “The children are missing.”
Rhiannon immediately sent a call out to Bercelak, who was with his kin, preparing an ambush from behind the advancing Tribesmen. “Where the hell are the Kyvich?” she demanded.
“Searching the castle, but Talaith and I don’t think the children are inside.”
“Wait.” Rhiannon closed her eyes. “Let me search for them.”
“Ladies,” Dagmar called from the top of the castle walls. “I think all of you better come up here.”
Talaith and Ebba ran up the stairs, pushing past soldiers and guards. Rhiannon quickly followed, but everyone moved out of her way. Together the four females stood at the rails and looked out over the Tribesmen army that stood no more than several hundred feet from their door. Rhiannon didn’t count to see how many were left, but it was at least a legion’s worth, she’d guess.
“Look below,” Dagmar said.
The three of them leaned over the railing and down into the land right outside the castle walls. That’s where her three grandchildren stood.
Talaith tried to jump over the railing to fetch the children, but Ebba and Dagmar caught her in time and held her.
“How the hells did they even get out there?” Talaith demanded. “They were standing right next to us!”
“I’ll go,” Ebba said. “I’ll get the children.”
Rhiannon grabbed Ebba’s arm. “No.”
“What are you doing?” Talaith nearly screamed. “Have you lost your mind?”
“If we move,” she told them, “they’ll kill them all.”
The lieutenant and his commander stared at the three children. None of them saw when they arrived. One second there was nothing and the next . . .
But that was no matter to them. They all knew who the three children were. They were the ones everyone had been talking about. The one his tribe’s priestess had described as a little one with brown skin and two others who were a male and female with unholy eyes. His tribe’s priestess said to look for “The Three,” as she had called them.
“Do we kill them, commander?” the lieutenant asked, because he knew that once the children were dead, they could all go home.
“Yes.”
Nodding, the lieutenant motioned for the troops to ready their bows.
“No!” some woman on the castle walls screamed at them while the gates opened. He could hear the demon horses of those damn witches. They were coming out here, they would try to stop them. That’s why his commander wasn’t going to try to grab the children and perform a ritual killing later. Too much bother. So instead they’d kill them with enough arrows to destroy an entire army.
The commander, always enjoying giving these kinds of orders himself, raised his hand to give the signal that would tell the soldiers to unleash their arrows.
And that’s when the smallest girl, the brown one, said into the anticipating quiet, “Daddy’s home.”
The commander looked at him, but before he could say a word, give an order, the large silver dragon dropped behind the girl, the ground beneath them all shaking. The dragon picked the child up in his claw and lifted her so that she rested by his neck, his talons holding her gently.
“See?” the little girl said. “Daddy’s home.”
“Commander?” the lieutenant prompted in the brief moment that followed. They’d been dealing with vengeful dragons for days. What was one more?
But there was more than one, dropping from the sky. Hundreds of them. Dragons of all colors and sizes. They’d already been in one battle it seemed, many of them still with healing wounds, broken limbs. Yet he could tell from their expressions they were more than ready for another fight.
“Commander?” the lieutenant pushed again.
“On my command, send in—” Something landed behind the commander on his horse, sword blades flashed and collided at the center of the commander’s neck, his head popping off, falling to the ground, and sadly rolling a few feet away.
The woman pushed the dying commander’s body off the horse and settled in to the empty spot.
“Hello, lads,” the woman said. “Name’s Annwyl.”
Then she smiled, and the lieutenant knew he’d not live to see the end of this day.
Talaith ran down the stairs and into the courtyard. She watched with relief and something she was almost afraid to term actual joy as Briec the Mighty stomped his way through the gates, their youngest daughter happily riding on her father’s neck.
The silver dragon stopped when he saw Talaith, the pair peering at each other. Talaith saw it, felt it, knew her mate was experiencing the same thing. That overwhelming flood of love and connection—and neither was ready for any of
that
sort of thing!
Using his tail to pull his daughter around and into his claws, the dragon snarled, “Explain to me why my perfect,
perfect
daughter was out there.” He held Rhian out for Talaith to see. “Unsafe!”
Talaith snatched her daughter away from the monster she loved, quickly stepping away from the flames that came with his shifting, and growled back, “If you don’t stop calling her that!”
“Don’t chirp at me, woman!”
“Chirp?
Chirp?
”
“You put my perfect,
perfect
daughter at risk!” He pulled on leggings and boots handed to him by one of the servants and yanked Rhian back to him. “What exactly have you been doing here? Letting her run wild? Like a banshee!”
“I’ll have you know—”
Izzy ran in through the gate. “Morning, Mum!” she cheered while running past and over to Sulien the Blacksmith. Without saying a word, he seemed to know what she needed, tossing her an extremely large battle-ax. “Thanks, Uncle Sulien!”
“Welcome, Izzy!”
“Iseabail!” Talaith called after her.
“I’ll be back in a bit, Mum!” Then she was gone.
“Damn that girl!”
“Are you even listening to me?”
“No!” Talaith snapped, yanking her hysterically laughing youngest daughter back into her arms. “I’m not! I can’t believe I spent even a moment of my time missing
you
!”
“I missed you too, you difficult, demanding female!”
“Difficult? I can show you difficult!”
“You do that with every breath you take!”
Fearghus entered the courtyard, not surprised to see his brother arguing with Talaith. He rolled his eyes, not in the mood to deal with any of that.
His mother, in human form, walked toward him, smiling.
“Fearghus.”
“Mother.”
“I’m so glad you’re well.” And he knew she meant it. He was so glad to be home.
“Well enough.” He motioned to the children with a tilt of his head. “Take them, would you?”
Once his mother had Talan and Talwyn, he shifted and put on leggings, then some boots. He kissed his mother on the cheek.
“Should I ask,” he murmured, “how they managed to get outside?” He knew well that the ones left to watch over the children would never have purposely let them wander around on their own during a siege.
“I have an idea, but . . .”
He waved that away, sensing it wouldn’t be an easy answer. “Can it wait?” he asked.
“I’d prefer it did. They’re fine. That’s all that matters.”
“Good. We need to talk about something else,” he said.
“What?”
“Éibhear.”
Rhiannon tensed. “He’s—”
“Perfectly healthy. But we should still talk.”
“Of course.” She motioned to Ebba, and the centaur trotted over, the children immediately leaping from their grandmother’s arms to Ebba’s back.
“Don’t take them far,” Fearghus stated. “Annwyl will want to see them as soon as she’s done.”
“Of course.” Ebba smiled at him. “It’s good to have you back, my lord.”
“Thank you, Ebba.”
Once they were as alone as possible in a busy courtyard with a battle going on right outside the castle gates, Rhiannon nodded at her son.
“All right. Tell me everything.”
The battle barely lasted an hour. The few Tribesmen left made a fast retreat with only a few of Annwyl’s men in pursuit. Everyone was so tired and happy to be back that the Tribesmen who remained were of little consequence to any of them. Especially after fighting the Sovereigns and Irons for the last five years.
With her swords tied to her back, Annwyl walked back to her home, an arm thrown over Izzy’s shoulder. They didn’t say anything because there was nothing to say. Not between them. They’d been through too much together, seen too much . . . gods, they’d
done
too much to worry about what to say.
They entered the castle gates and Annwyl wasn’t surprised to see Talaith and Briec well in the middle of an argument. It was like they had to make up for the last five years of no proper fighting. But as soon as Talaith saw her daughter, tears sprang to her eyes and she ran to her, Izzy moving away from Annwyl to meet her mum. They threw their arms around each other, both women sobbing and laughing, holding on to each other.
Annwyl winked at Briec, his smile warm as he watched the women he loved, and she patted his shoulder, stopping a moment to kiss sweet Rhian on the cheek. But Annwyl was nearly knocked on her ass when Gwenvael stormed past her, shifting from dragon to human in seconds, not bothering to put on leggings or even a robe.
Dagmar already stood on the Great Hall steps, but the welcoming smile faded from her lips when she saw Gwenvael, her eyes growing wide with a panic she rarely showed anyone.
Gwenvael took the stairs three at a time, picking Dagmar up along the way and dumping her over his shoulder like a sack of so much grain before he disappeared into the Great Hall.
Annwyl glanced up at Briec, but the Silver shook his head. “I won’t discuss it. But let’s hope it makes him less of a bastard. Because he’s been a right bastard.”
Shaking her head, Annwyl headed toward the Great Hall, but she slowly came to a stop when she saw them walk out the doors. She swallowed, feeling such a jumble of emotions at the moment, she simply couldn’t suss one out from the next.
Unlike Fearghus, Annwyl had not been home since the day she’d headed into the west with her army. Then, her children had just turned two. They’d been cute and impossible, and she’d adored them like the suns.
But now they were five years older and scowling at her from the stairs, her daughter looking more like her grandfather now than any of them would want to admit and her son looking like . . . well, like Annwyl.
When neither moved, Annwyl did the only thing she could think of. She crouched down and opened her arms and, to her great relief, both her children ran to her, throwing themselves into her arms as if pitched by a catapult. She caught them and pulled them tight into her body, hugging them with all her strength. They put their arms around her shoulder and buried their faces into each side of her neck.
The twins had grown into a right pair of little brawlers, just like their mum. Strong arms held Annwyl, little scars from fights and hard play littered any exposed flesh she could see. They were dirty and probably even worse nightmares to deal with than they had been.
And they were hers. They were hers.
Annwyl didn’t even realize she’d begun to cry until Fearghus’s thumb wiped the tears from her cheeks. He now crouched in front of her and smiled at her with such love, she didn’t know what to do, what to say. All she knew was that she was home, she was safe, she had her family, and the heads of Overlord Thracius and Lord Laudaricus had been planted on spikes outside her gates. Although that was temporary, since the troops she’d be sending off to help the Rebel King Gaius claim his empire would bring those two heads with them.
Standing, Fearghus took Talwyn and Annwyl kept Talan. Together, they carried their children inside their home and Annwyl knew that finally, she could get some sleep.