Giving a little giggle, Keita began to eat again, only to stop when she saw that her brother’s gaze was locked on the door through which Izzy had run out.
Now, of course, it was all making more sense. Had Izzy teased him?
Insulted him? What had Mistress Brat done now to Lord Sensitive?
As if in answer, and without a word, Éibhear pushed back from the table, stood, and walked out.
By now, her dim-witted elder brothers had caught on that something was amiss, and as one group all at the table stood and silently followed. Izzy and Branwen had run off to the left toward Flower Hill. Éibhear, however, turned right. Together, and from a distance, the group followed her brother as he walked out the east exit and down the worn path leading to the lakes.
His pace was steady and calm, his body relaxed. But something was terribly wrong, and they all knew it. But it seemed no one knew what to do about it.
They followed him over the small hills and past several small lakes and a stream until he reached the big lake where most of the Cadwaladr Clan made their temporary and occasional home.
“Éibhear! Wonderful morning to you!” Ghleanna greeted him. She and Addolgar must have arrived that morning or the night before. They looked tired but happy to see their kin. But Ghleanna’s cheerful greeting received nothing more than a nod from Éibhear while he walked right by her. She blinked in surprise and watched her nephew pass all his kin, each stopping what he or she was doing to watch him.
He continued on, passing uncles, aunts, cousins, distant cousins, those related only by mating—he ignored them all. Until he reached Celyn.
“Ho, cousin!” Celyn called out, looking quite chipper this morning, and Keita cringed because she had the distinct feeling she knew why. “What brings you down to—”
Éibhear had him by the throat, lifting Celyn off his big feet. Gasping in horror, Morfyd reached for her brother, but Keita caught her left arm and Briec caught her right, holding her back. Good thing, too. For Éibhear pulled his arm back and shot-putted Celyn into the closest tree.
Keita cringed, hearing something break, but since Celyn managed to get back to his feet, she didn’t worry it was his head.
Celyn twisted his neck, the bones cracking. “Wanna do this now, cousin? You sure?”
Éibhear glanced at the ground, picked up one of the training shields that Keita’s kin used when in their dragon form and chucked it at Celyn with such force, it shoved her cousin’s human body through the tree he’d been standing next to.
“Guess he’s sure then,” Fearghus muttered.
Annwyl knew none of the dragons would get in the middle of this.
The Cadwaladrs wouldn’t because this was how they handled things. And Fearghus’s siblings wouldn’t because they knew this had to do with Izzy.
Did any of them, but especially Éibhear, really expect that girl to stay a virgin forever? They couldn’t compare Izzy to Annwyl. True, Fearghus had been her one and her only, but that came more down to twenty-three years under her father’s protection and two years of her troops’ fear of her.
Had Fearghus made her wait worth it? Absolutely. Did that mean she would have waited if offered the chance with someone she truly liked before she’d met him? Probably not.And Éibhear had made it perfectly clear he “didn’t think of Izzy like that.”
Perhaps not, but something told her that a beating from Izzy’s father wouldn’t be this bad and Briec was a mean bastard when it came to his women.
No. It looked like she’d have to do something about this on her own.
Still, as insane as Annwyl knew the world thought her, she wasn’t about to jump between two battling dragons. She might be insane, but she wasn’t stupid. True, both dragons seemed to be staying human for this fight, but that could change in a moment. And unless she was willing to fight to the death, she preferred strict rules of engagement when fighting her dragon kin. Otherwise she risked hurting something that even Morfyd couldn’t repair. And life staring out a window and drooling held no appeal to her. So Annwyl turned and ran the other way.
She hard-charged past the gates of her home, into the forest, past Dagmar’s little house, and straight through until she hit the western fields.
She kept going until she saw Flower Hill. She charged toward it and up. Izzy was right about this hill, too. Annwyl ran it every day, several times, until her legs were screaming in pain. But then every night Fearghus ran his hands over them, growled a little, and muttered something like, “Your legs drive me wild.”
Thank the gods for dragon males. She was relatively certain there were few human males who’d feel the same about their women.
“Oy!” She dashed past the females and stopped.
“Annwyl!” Izzy cheered. “Come to join us?”
“I think you forgot to tell me something.”
“I did?”
“About Celyn?”
Scowling, Izzy looked at Branwen.
“It wasn’t me!”
“It wasn’t Branwen,” Annwyl confirmed. “It was Éibhear.” Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “Wha-what? But he doesn’t know.”
“He’s telling everyone right now—”
“What? ”
“—by beating the life from his cousin.”
“Oh, gods.” Izzy’s hand went to her stomach. “Oh, gods!”
“Don’t just stand there!” Annwyl ordered. “Move!”