Talaith became tired just listening to the girl. All these years, they’d accused Talaith of being too talkative, too chatty. But this…this was amazing.

From what she’d been able to glean, her daughter’s name was Iseabail. And she intended to keep it and she hoped that was all right. True, Talaith didn’t give her that name but she was used to it now and didn’t want to give it up. Her Protectors—and that’s exactly what she called them—referred to her as Izzy the Dangerous. Apparently while growing into her tall body, she had a tendency to be awkward and clumsy. And there was an incident with a horse she suddenly refused to finish telling.

Talaith still didn’t know how these men came to protect her daughter because Izzy hadn’t taken a breath long enough to allow Talaith to ask. Glancing at Morfyd and Annwyl, who led them back to Annwyl’s elite guard, she could see them looking back at her and laughing hysterically. Evil cows.

“How did you learn to fight like that, anyway?”

“Well—”

“You see, I want to learn to fight like that. Achaius has taught me a bit, haven’t you, Achaius, but mostly they tell me to run and hide when danger is near. But I’m sixteen winters now and running and hiding seems awfully unseemly, don’t you think?”

“Um—”

“It was like I told Achaius, he can’t protect me forever. Didn’t I say that Achaius? And what happens if, the gods forbid, he and the others get too hurt to protect me? Then what will I do?”

It took Talaith a moment to realize Izzy actually waited for an answer. “Oh, well, that’s a very good point. It’s a hard world and you have to learn how to—”

“Survive. Exactly. That’s exactly what I was telling them. But do you think they listen to me? Of course not. I’m just She Who Shall Be Protected. As if that’s the name I was born with.

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“Anyway, I’m just glad to finally know you and meet you, like he promised I would.” Talaith wanted to ask “like who promised” but there was no chance as her daughter barreled ahead. “My heart would break if I never met you. You are my mother after all and we should have never been separated. At least that’s how I feel and although I will admit, I’ve been wrong on more than one occasion, it is rare. And I absolutely think I’m right here. You see, it all comes down to…”

On and on she went—and Talaith had never been happier.

* * *

“Explain to me again why we’re at a whorehouse?”

Gwenvael sighed around his ale. “Because, my thick-headed brother, if you want information about human men then you go to the one place all human men come to eventually.”

Briec glanced over at Éibhear, but baby brother was too busy watching every woman in the room to notice.

“You sure you’re just not hoping to get—”

“Gwenvael!”

Briec leaned back as a round, extremely large-breasted woman threw herself into Gwenvael’s waiting arms.

“You’ve been gone ages.”

Gwenvael pulled the woman onto his lap and nuzzled br**sts fairly exploding from her bodice.

“Sorry, my sweet. I’ve had so much to do lately. Couldn’t be helped.”

“Well, you’re here now. And you’ve brought friends, I see.”

“Family, actually. These are my brothers, Briec and Éibhear. This, my brothers, is the fair lady Antha.”

“Lords.” She dipped her head a bit, but refused to release her hold on Gwenvael’s neck. “So, old friend, anyone here that garners your interest this eve?”

Gwenvael pulled the woman close and whispered into her ear. “Anyone who has entertained those of Lord Hamish’s court.”

Eyes that were once warm and friendly, turned calculating in seconds. “Ah. That would be many, but he and his men do have their favorites. Of course, they are in much demand. Securing their time won’t be cheap.”

“Good thing I have so much gold to share.”

Beaming, the woman slipped off his lap. “Then I shall get them ready for your pleasure, lord.” She glanced at Briec and Éibhear. “And for your brothers as well?”

Éibhear eagerly leaned forward, but Briec pushed him back. “No. Just food and wine.”

“As you wish.” She turned and flounced off.

“Why must I wait down here with you?” Éibhear sounded as if he’d rather chew tree bark.

“This trip isn’t about bedding wenches, little brother.” Briec turned to Gwenvael. “Get what we need and then let’s go.”

For more than a week he’d had to put up with his two younger brothers. For more than a week he’d listened to constant arguing, complaining, debating and whining. More than any one dragon should ever have to endure. True, they’d gotten much information, enough to satisfy Fearghus’ needs he was sure. But Briec wanted to return to his den. He had much sulking left to do, and his idiot kin wouldn’t give him a moment’s peace to get on with it. The sooner he handed off the information and left these treacherous humans to their petty little lives, the better he’d feel.

“I want to give Fearghus what we have and then be on our way,” he continued. “I grow tired of both of you.”

“Of course, brother.” Gwenvael, grinning as always, walked off.

Angry and more than a little frustrated, Éibhear crossed his arms in front of his chest. “He’ll be gone hours. You do realize that?”




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