They were probably confused and a little ashamed by this. They shouldn’t be. Keita’s own kin had accepted that Annwyl was, and would always be as long as she had breath, a dangerous opponent. The Cadwaladr Clan actively refused to fight her and had no shame over that decision.
A shadow covered Keita, and she looked over her shoulder to see Ragnar walk up. Behind him ran an out-of-breath Dagmar. Did she have to race to the Northlands to retrieve him? The woman appeared exhausted.
Ragnar pushed between Keita and Fearghus. “Do they not listen to a word I say?” he asked her.
“Apparently not,” Keita replied. “But don’t worry. They can’t kill each other in the training ring. It’s a rule or something.”
“And yet that doesn’t make me feel better.”
“Are you going to go in and stop them?”
“They made the decision to travel down this road,” Ragnar explained,
“now they must see it through to its end.”
Without looking away from his mate, Fearghus said, “In other words, you’re not about to get in there and risk your own head.”
“Those words work, too, but mine sound much more honorable.” Inside the ring, Vigholf used his sword to rip the shield from Annwyl’s hand. She stumbled back and stumbled back again. Now she was between Vigholf and Meinhard. Both males moved at the same time, and Annwyl jerked aside at the last moment, forcing both to pull back their weapons before they hacked into each other.
Annwyl took the moment to kick the same leg on Meinhard that she’d broken the day before. The dragon roared in pain, lightning strikes spraying out. Keita ducked, not in the mood to get shocked, but Briec quickly unleashed a spell that brought up a shield, protecting them all.
With Meinhard temporarily taken care of, Annwyl charged into Vigholf’s legs, taking him to the ground. She quickly got to her feet and rose over him, her sword grasped between both hands and raised over his belly.
Moments from bringing that blade down on the dragon—and Vigholf most likely moments from shifting back to his dragon form so he could stomp Annwyl to oblivion—Annwyl glanced over at her audience, back at her prey, then over at them again.
“Izzy?”
Izzy raised her hand, waved.
“Izzy!” Annwyl slammed her sword into the ground by poor Vigholf’s head—forcing the dragon to grit his teeth, most likely to stop himself from screaming like a startled baby—and charged across the training ring.
Annwyl leaped over the fence, all of them scrambling back, and right into Izzy’s arms.
“Iseabail!” Annwyl cheered, swinging her niece around. “I’m so happy to see you!”
Gwenvael leaned in and whispered in Keita’s ear, “It’s like a battle of the giant females.”
Before she could laugh, Briec slapped Gwenvael in the back of the head.
“Ow!”
Annwyl put Izzy down, but still held her hands. She took a step back and looked her over. “You’re looking so well. How’s it been going?”
“I’m still in formation,” Izzy whined.
“And you will continue to be until your commanders feel you’re ready for advancement. You want too much too soon.”
“You didn’t expect that to change, did you?” Izzy muttered, making Annwyl laugh.
“No. I didn’t expect that. I also didn’t expect you back this early.”
“Oh, well, I came here to confront my mother about her betrayal.”
“Izzy,” Briec warned.
“Still not talking to you either,” she said without looking at him. “And to bring you this from Ghleanna.”
She dug in to the top of her boot and handed over a piece of leather.
Annwyl took it, examined it, and her expression changed almost instantly.
“Where was this found?” she asked, no longer the loving aunt but the demanding queen.
“A small town near the Western Mountains. The town had been attacked by barbarians a few days before. By the time we got word asking for help, it was too late.”
“Any survivors?”
Izzy shook her head. “No. It looked as if they killed everyone. Men, women, even children. If they took any as slaves, we couldn’t tell.” Annwyl’s hand closed tight around what she held. “I’m glad you’re back, Izzy,” Annwyl said again. “We’ll talk later, yes?”
“Aye.”
“Good. Good.” Annwyl motioned to Fearghus before starting off to the castle. He followed, stopping long enough to kiss Izzy on the cheek and give her a hug.
Before Annwyl disappeared around the corner, she called out, “Oy!
Barbarian. Witch. We need you two as well.”
Morfyd, with a nod to the Lightnings, headed off after Annwyl, and Dagmar let out a weighty sigh before limping off after them all.
“I need to get her into better shape,” Gwenvael muttered. “She’s as weak as a kitten.”
“Only physically,” Keita clarified.
Gwenvael chuckled and stepped in front of Izzy, hands on hips.
“What?” he demanded of his niece. “You return and show me no love whatsoever?”
“I’m not sure I’m talking to any of you.” Izzy folded her arms over her chest. “In none of the letters I received did any of you tell me about Rhi.”
“Who’s Rhi?”
“Rhianwen,” Keita said. “You idiot.”