Although Izzy knew many didn’t believe her, she’d never planned for things to end up as they had among her, Éibhear, and Celyn. She’d been young and she’d been . . . curious. There had been a few among her fellow soldiers who’d offered to satisfy that curiosity for her. Some politely and some with an outright, “I’ll f**k ya proper,” which did nothing but cause Izzy to reach for the closest weapon or simply throw a punch. But it was Celyn who’d kept her interest merely by being sweet, funny, and confident. He didn’t offer anything because he didn’t need to. And, one night, alone in the woods, they took the next logical—at least to her—step.
But it had never occurred to Izzy that things would turn out so badly. Then again, she’d never thought Éibhear would find out. And if he did find out, she hadn’t thought he’d really ever care. And although the sixteen-year-old Izzy, who’d fallen hard for the dragon from the first time she’d seen him and his blue hair, had wanted to believe that he’d cared about her, that he’d been jealous, the more jaded, realistic nineteen-year-old she’d been at the time knew better. Knew it was more about ego and competing with his cousin than it was about Izzy.
Thankfully, though, that was a long time ago and much had changed. At least for Izzy it had.
“So have you seen my cousin?” Celyn asked, after he’d finished his stew, pushing his now empty bowl away and leaning back in his chair, long legs stretched out, hand around a cup of ale.
“He escorted us home.”
“And how did that go?”
Izzy tried to drag her fingers through the tangled, dirty mess of Macsen’s fur. It wasn’t that she didn’t groom him. She actually groomed him often, but by the time she was done combing through the back end, the front end was already a tangled, dirty mess again. But since the dog didn’t seem to mind . . .
“Why do you ask?”
“Because I’m pathetically curious.”
Izzy laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
“As one of the chosen Dragon Queen Personal Guard, I am bound in blood to be honest.” He glanced off and added, “Unless the queen tells me to lie . . . which she has.”
“Shocking,” Brannie muttered, reaching for the bottle of ale to refill her cup.
“Ahhh, the jealousy of a sibling. So bitter about my assignment, dear Brannie?”
“No. Just tired of hearing Mum go on and on about it.”
“Oh, little sister, you shouldn’t be so sensitive. You know Mum just loves me more than she loves you—ow! That’s my shin, human female!”
“I know!” Izzy snapped, sorry she’d gone barefoot for the evening because Celyn’s shins were like granite.
“You may not realize this, brother, but Izzy is loyal to me. So don’t make me unleash her on you.”
“And now you’re making fun of me,” Izzy complained.
“No. It’s a serious threat,” Celyn admitted. “Used by many in the family. Especially Briec. He loves threatening those who annoy him—”
“Which is everyone,” Brannie stated while grabbing the last loaf of bread and tearing it into three pieces.
“—with his beautiful eldest daughter who will rip the scales from your back and tear the still-beating heart from your chest before spitting on your corpse.”
Izzy put her hand to her chest, her voice trembling as she fought tears. “That is the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“He adores both his girls.”
“I needed to hear that.” She took the chunk of bread from Brannie. “I’ve been feeling a little . . . bad today.”
“Bad?” Celyn’s teasing expression changed to one of concern. “About what?”
“Éibhear told me that the family has been keeping him away because they didn’t want him around when I was. And Daddy and Fearghus say that’s mostly true. But they also said that Granddad forced Éibhear to join the Mì-runach and for the last ten years he’s been stuck in the Ice Lands. No one should be stuck in the Ice Lands. No one.”
Celyn and Brannie stared at her for a long moment, looked at each other, then back at her, both saying together, “No.”
“No? What do you mean no?”
“No one tells the Mì-runach anything,” Celyn explained. “Except for the queen. She tells them what she wants and the Mì-runach make it happen.”
“Make it happen? How?”
Celyn shrugged. “Any way they want to. The Mì-runach end up in the Mì-runach because they won’t follow orders. At least not any orders that come from anyone but the queen.”
“If they can’t follow orders then why—”
“No. I said they won’t follow orders, not that they can’t.”
“That’s even worse then.”
“As warriors, they’re often too good to not be used.”
“That was our grandfather,” Brannie added. “He was a mighty warrior but the worst among the rank and file. Before our grandmother—”
“He loved f**king and eating and drinking. And he loved a good battle. But he hated taking orders.”
“Hated generals and commanders.”
“Hated being up in the morning.”
“Especially after a good night of f**king and drinking.”
Izzy, laughing, asked, “So he joined the Mì-runach?”