“Oh, yes,” Gaius said, his entire body becoming tense under that cape. “Éibhear the Contemptible.”
“Éibhear, this is Gaius Lucius Domitus, the Rebel King.”
Éibhear grunted. He grunted. Even Fearghus, a known grunter, didn’t grunt at fellow royalty.
Gaius’s one eye narrowed. “I’m going back to my sister,” he said, his expression wary as he watched Éibhear closely. “We’ll meet you out front, Izzy.”
“Aye.”
She waited until he cleared the corner before facing Éibhear and demanding, “Is that how you were taught to greet a fellow royal? Even my father is better at it than you. And my gods, that is saying something.”
“I’m your uncle?”
Oh. So that’s what was bothering him. Izzy could have done a lot of things at this moment to assuage Éibhear’s annoyance. A lot of things.
She didn’t do any of them.
Instead she said, “Well . . . you are my uncle.” She brushed a bit of nonexistent dirt off his bare shoulder. “And I was your ward until years later when you finally had your vile, dirty uncle way with me.”
“Izzy.”
“I guess I should just be grateful punishments weren’t necessary. Dirty, dirty punishments involving chains, whips, and a nurse maid.”
“Izzy.”
She tapped his cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Don’t worry, Uncle Éibhear. I won’t tell. Last night will just be our dirty little secret.”
“That’s not what I’m—”
“We have to go. Whatever’s going on, Annwyl will want to know about it right away.” She turned to leave, but a big arm slipped around her waist and spun her back around. Éibhear pulled her into his body, holding her there while he stared down into her face.
“Do you really think I’ll just let you walk away from what happened last night?” he asked, not sounding angry . . . just challenged.
“Do you really think you can stop me?” Izzy grinned. “Are you really up to trying?”At the same time, they both looked down. Because their bodies were so close, neither could see the erection currently pressed between them, but Izzy could easily feel it. He was hard as a steel spear, sooooo . . .
“Well, guess that answers that.” She pulled away from him. “Come on, Macsen,” she called out and her dog loped to her side. Part of his fur was crispy from the flame, but he still seemed to be doing well. Although she did have to pull out a piece of still-sizzling, melted stone from his mouth. Gods, the beast chewed on anything!
Éibhear watched Izzy walk away with that ridiculous dog that he wasn’t really convinced was actually a dog.
She’d dismissed him. He knew all the signs. After years among the Northland dragons and a lifetime among his kin, Éibhear knew when he’d just been dismissed like a pesky gnat flying around her nose.
Honestly, he’d been treated like that so often, he normally didn’t worry about it unless someone got on his nerves. But Izzy wasn’t getting on his nerves. She was pissing him off. Still!
And she’d finally have to learn that was always a mistake.
Chapter 21
Annwyl watched Dagmar’s young nephew lean over the picnic basket to look inside. She tried not to frown too much—she’d been told her frown could be terrifying—but she didn’t like anyone’s nose that close to the food they’d all be partaking in.
Placing her hands on his shoulders to gently pull him away, she jumped when the boy nearly came out of his skin.
“Sorry,” she quickly said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“No . . . um . . .”
“Would you like to come with us?” she offered. Annwyl felt so bad for the boy, remembering her own youth, when tormenting her had seemingly been her idiot brother’s only pastime. She could tell that this boy’s own kin probably hadn’t been much better, probably just with a bit less outright hatred.
“It’s just a picnic with the twins, Rhi, Dagmar, Talaith, and Fearghus’s Uncle Bram. We talk books. Well . . . some of us talk books. Talwyn glowers.”
The boy looked down at his feet. “I don’t read much. It’s a bit of a struggle.”
Dagmar had muttered something about the boy not being too bright, but not everyone was a reader. Talwyn certainly wasn’t, but Annwyl would hardly call her conniving, plotting daughter thick. And Dagmar could be a bit of a snob when it came to intelligence. The barbarian wasn’t above using anyone, no matter their intelligence level, but she only accepted those she deemed “smart enough” into her inner circle.
But Frederik was just a boy. A boy who didn’t fit in anywhere by the looks of him, and that was something Annwyl completely understood. Gods, she’d had to involve herself with a completely different species before she found those who considered her tolerable to be around.
“I’m here! I’m here!” Rhi skipped down the stairs in a lovely midnight-blue dress with a fur cape draping her small shoulders. The leather bag her father had had made for her nearly ten years ago was over her shoulder and most likely filled with parchment for sketching, drawing quills, and inks. She brought little else when she traveled any distance from the castle.
“It’s such a lovely day out!” she happily chirped. “And just before winter. I hope there’s cheese!”