Authors: G. A. Aiken
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Romance, #dragons
“Mum!”
“—stupid girl!”
Now all her kin stood around her. All except Éibhear. He’d already known what Izzy had been hiding from everyone else. Had known from nearly the beginning, but she knew he hadn’t told her mother. She knew he’d never betray her that way. Not when he’d promised.
But someone had told Talaith.
“What the bloody hell is that?” her father demanded.
“Gods, Izzy. What have you done?” Morfyd asked, her voice more concerned than angry.
They all could see it. All knew what it was. The mark of Rhydderch Hael. Izzy was to be his champion one day. His warrior.
“I did what I had to do,” she said, trying to sound braver than she really felt. She didn’t even realize she’d begun to cry until she felt the tears slide down her neck.
“For him?” Her mother still had hold of Izzy’s arm and she shook her hard. “You did this for
him
?”
“I did this for you!” she yelled back, feeling hurt and angry and so very stupid. “He wouldn’t bring you back unless I became his champion. So I agreed.
And I’d do it again!
”
The sound of her mother’s palm colliding with her face echoed around the Great Hall.
Briec stepped between them, grabbing Talaith’s arms and pushing her back.
Izzy rested her hand against her cheek, but the pain she felt was nothing compared to the pain she knew she’d caused her mother.
Talaith yanked her arms away from Briec and stared at Izzy.
“You idiot child.” Her voice was so cold. “You don’t just hand your life over to someone to save another.”
“You did for me.”
“I’m your mother. I can do any damn thing I want.”
“But I—”
“I don’t want to hear it.” Talaith walked away from her, stopping as she neared one of the back hallways. “I’ve been fighting all this time to protect you and all this time he’s had you anyway.”
“Mum,
please
!”
“Tell Brastias he can have her. He can send her wherever he wants, train her to be whatever he or her precious god wants. I no longer care.”
Without looking at Izzy again, Talaith stalked out.
Tears poured now, her sobs hurting her chest. She felt her father’s arms go around her, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want anything but to be left alone. She pulled away from him and ran, her Dragon Kin calling for her. She ignored them all and charged past the open gates.
Briec stood in the massive doorway of the Great Hall and debated.
Go after the hysterical daughter who’d given up her life to protect her mother or go after the devastated mother who’d given up her life to protect her daughter?
Dammit! His existence was much easier when he only had to worry about what to kill for dinner.
“Leave them be,” Rhiannon said behind him. “They’ll work it out.”
“Like you and Keita?”
“She’s breathing, isn’t she? Besides Morfyd said she’s gone back to her den, so she’s fine. And your Talaith and Izzy will be fine. They just need to work this out.”
“But when they’re unhappy, I’m unhappy.” He looked over his shoulder at his parents and siblings. “And that’s unacceptable to me.”
Éibhear let out a disgusted groan. “What is
wrong
with you?”
“Nothing.”
“My Lord Briec.”
Frowning at the title usage, Briec faced Brastias. “General. You’ve brought a friend.”
Brastias glanced at the cloaked male behind him. “This is Lord Ragnar. He said your mother told him he could come to meet with her. Apparently he’s from the Northlands.”
“Aye, I can smell the difference.”
The Lightning pulled the hood of his cloak back and grinned at Briec, not appearing remotely offended. “Good morning to you, Fire Breather.”
“Lightning.” Briec glanced at his kin. “Mother, our mortal enemy is here for tea and biscuits.”
Dagmar escaped talks of weapons and Minotaurs in Fearghus’s den by simply walking away and leaving the cave.
It was a beautiful day with the two suns shining brightly overhead. Yet a cooling breeze coming in from the east kept her from sweating, which she appreciated.
She strolled aimlessly among the thick foliage of Dark Glen, enjoying the quiet and the freedom.
“That dress looks very nice on you.”
Dagmar stopped and examined the dress Annwyl had found for her among Fearghus’s treasure. It was a simple frock with long sleeves and a neckline just below her collarbone, so she didn’t feel choked but she didn’t feel like a whore either. It was also grey, which pleased her the most. She had no desire to wear bright colors and was glad the queen hadn’t asked her to.
“Thank you.” Lifting her head she looked up at the top of a big boulder. The goddess sat on it casually, one arm resting on her raised knee. She wore no cape today and her padded shirt this time was sleeveless. The brown skin of her arms was covered in dragon brands, rune tattoos, and scars. She looked decidedly larger this time. Taller and wider.
“Hello, Eir,” she said. “It’s good to see you again.”
“And you, my friend.”
Eir’s wolf companion pressed against Dagmar’s side until she stroked his rough fur. “And you must be…” she thought back to her knowledge of the different pantheons. “Nannulf, Battle Guardian of war dogs!”
“That’s very good,” Eir commended. “We have been friends a very long time, he and I.” Eirianwen, one of the most feared and violent goddesses in the known world, slid down the boulder and dropped to the ground beside Dagmar. “He’s always liked you. Likes the way you train your dogs. You miss them, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
“And they you. Of course, you can breed and raise dogs anywhere. Annwyl, she has no battle dogs. Not any real ones. Just blokes bringing their own pets with them into battle.”
“That’s my understanding. And I can always send Annwyl a breeding pair.”
“That’s one option.”
Dagmar scratched a spot on Nannulf that had the whole wolf-god’s body happily wiggling.
“Do I have other options?”
Eir placed a disturbingly large hand on Dagmar’s shoulder. “Knowledge always allows for other options.”
“Weren’t you missing that finger?” Dagmar asked, staring at Eir’s hand.
She raised her arm, wiggled her fingers. “They grow back…for me anyway.”
“It must be nice to be a god.”
“It has its moments. And stop trying to get me off the subject. You know what I’m trying to tell you.”
“You can’t seriously expect me to stay with Gwenvael.”
Eir clapped her hands together, her grin wide. “But he likes you so much!”
“I find it horrifying that the most feared and deadly god of war is a romantic at heart.”
“Don’t you think the two of you are so adorable together?”
Dagmar eagerly clapped her hands together and said, “No!” before she let her face return to its natural state of disdain.
“It’s not easy finding someone who not only accepts you for who you are but tolerates you as well.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that you’re the type of woman only bloodthirsty battle dogs could love.”
“Thank you,” Dagmar replied flatly.
“Before you get insulted…I am too! And yet Rhy loves me anyway.”
“Rhy?”
“Don’t start.” She gazed off, sighing. “Rhy loves me in spite of the—”
“Occasionally missing body parts?”
“Well—”
“The bits of blood and gore still caught in your hair?”
“That’s—”
“The corpses piled high in your name?”
“Yes!” She let out a frustrated growl. “In spite of all that he loves me.”
“And yet you brought Annwyl back. Against his wishes.”
“She was already dead. His”—she shrugged—“proprietary rights, shall we say, over her were no longer in effect. Her corpse was mine to do with as I wish. The twins were a little more complicated. I couldn’t simply take them since he’d sent them there. And I couldn’t rescue you.”
“Why not?”
She huffed indignantly. “I can’t reward bad behavior.”
“What bad behavior?”
“You don’t worship me. Or any of us.”
“How is that bad—”
“So I had to find another way and that’s when I decided to bring Annwyl back.” She pursed her lips. “It was a risk, though. She’d already been to the other side; she’d been swimming, laying out in the sun, had a little something to eat. Dragging her back here can sometimes cause problems, especially with humans. There was every chance she would have killed you and those babes as she did those Minotaurs.”
“What an excellent plan then.”
“It worked, didn’t it, Lady Sarcasm? And so we understand each other, all I do is set the plan in motion. The rest is up to you.”
“Yes, but I don’t understand all these rules you have in place. Who you can help, who you can’t, when, how…it’s endless. They’re all so complicated.”
“But they have their reasons. I and the other gods of war built these rules for gods and the creatures we gods create for one simple reason.”
“So that when the rules are broken, there’s war?”
The goddess stilled for a moment and then giggled. Giggled like a child. “Yes.” She bent over at the waist, her arms around her middle, the laughter becoming louder. “That is why! And it works every bloody time!”
For the life of her, Dagmar didn’t understand what she liked about this goddess, but she did. She did like her. “I’m glad you’re so amused by all this.”
Wiping away tears, the goddess stood tall. She was a little smaller now. Dagmar wondered how big she could actually get. Or how small. Could she change into a hat?
“One gets her joy where she can,” Eir added. “And that’s all I want for you.”
“Are we back at Gwenvael again?”
“He’s perfect for you. And you love him. Don’t you?”
Dagmar petted the large wolf-god standing beside her. She didn’t have to crouch to reach his back. On all fours he neared her shoulder. “If I were to love anyone, it would be him. But I don’t love anyone.”
“Of course you—”
“I do care. For many things, many people. But I just don’t think it’s in me to love anyone.”
“That very well could be true. But I think if gods can love, then I can hold out hope for you.”
She patted Dagmar’s shoulder. “Good-bye, my friend.” Eir headed deeper into the glen. “It was good seeing you again.”
“And you.” Dagmar smiled at Nannulf. “And you as well.”
After a moment of hesitation she whispered in the wolf-god’s ear, “And watch out for Canute and the others. I don’t think they worship the gods either, but…I think they deserve the protection just the same.”
Dagmar stroked her hand down his head and across his fur. He leaned in, nuzzling her cheek, and, without warning, dragged his tongue across her collarbone.
Dagmar shuddered, unable to hide her disgust.
“Don’t be too hard on him,” Eir called back. “He likes you.”
The wolf stepped back and stared at her expectantly, his tongue hanging out. For her dogs, she’d make the sacrifice. But only for her dogs.
Fighting her urge to wipe the slobber off her neck in front of him, Dagmar said, “Thank you, Nannulf.”
The wolf barked. But he was a god, and the sound of it shook the glen, causing the trees to sway and the ground to vibrate.
Dagmar almost fell to her knees, so she quickly pressed her body against the boulder and held on.
“Don’t do that, you big idiot!” Eir snapped. “Now come on.”
Nannulf ran off after his traveling companion, and Dagmar finally wiped at the slobber on her neck. She felt slightly ill when she realized it had already dried on her skin and her flesh began to itch in response.
Determined to wash it off immediately, she turned and came face to chest with Gwenvael.
“Who are you talking to?”
“Powerful gods.”
“Of course you are.”
“You asked.”
“I did.” He brushed his hand across her collarbone. “Rash?”
She looked down at the red irritated area that was becoming redder and more irritated by the second. “Dog slobber.”
“Lovely.” He took her hand and led her through the trees. “Anyway, I heard from Morfyd this morning.”
“Is everything all right?”
“Well, Izzy apparently has sold her soul to Rhydderch Hael. Talaith found out and it looks as if she’s disowned her. And our mother has invited Lightning dragons over for tea. Specifically Ragnar the Cunning.”
Dagmar pouted. “We miss everything.”
“Exactly. We need to get back to Garbhán Isle before everything implodes and we’re not there to witness it—while enjoying wine and cheese.”
“Good plan.” Dagmar stopped walking and frowned.