But gods, how could she not? Annwyl told them the siege had begun—and Rhona didn’t real y want to think much on how the royal had known that when she’d been off in the Western Mountains before they had—and yet here Rhona was. In the Septima Mountains with a bunch of worthless rebels—hiding! A Cadwaladr hiding! Gods, what she’d come to.
“Have you seen Annwyl?”
Rhona opened her eyes and looked up. Izzy, freshly bathed and with clean clothes on, stood in the entrance to the private alcove Rhona and Vigholf had made their temporary home. The Rebels hadn’t seemed to care what they did. It was like they didn’t exist for them because their king was ignoring Annwyl.
“No,” Rhona replied. “I haven’t.”
“Okay. Thanks.” Izzy turned to go.
“Izzy.”
She stopped, faced Rhona again.
“What I said to you last night about not being my cousin . . . I’m sorry. You are kin and like most of them you’ve real y pissed me off. But that was an unfair hit, even for me.” She cleared her throat. “I sounded like me mum.”
Izzy let out a breath and stepped farther into the alcove. “You were just trying to protect your own and . . . I understand that. I stil don’t think it’s your business,” she felt the need to add. “But I do understand it. And I’m sorry if I snapped.” Rhona got to her feet, picking up the chain-mail shirt her father had made for her. “Now you see, Izzy, that’s what makes you stick out in this family. You actual y apologize. You feel real regret. How can you fit in with the Cadwaladrs when you do al that?” Izzy chuckled.
“I can assure you that those two idiots ain’t apologizing for a gods-damn thing. Instead they just fight. Constantly.” Shaking her head, Izzy said, “I didn’t mean for them to.... I was never going to tel .... I was just going to . . .”
“Enjoy?”
She flinched. “Yeah. I guess.”
Rhona pul ed her shirt over her head. “I wil say that you shouldn’t have expected any Cadwaladr male to keep his mouth shut about a conquest.
That was, I think, your only real mistake here.”
“No one told Éibhear. He sort of... saw us.”
“Oh. Wel , that’s awkward.”
“And then he went round the bend. Beating up poor Celyn.”
Rhona snorted. “Poor Celyn, my tail. I don’t feel sorry for either one of them. And you shouldn’t either.” She stood in front of Izzy. The girl was as tal as any She-dragon in human form, as wide too. A powerful y built female with a pretty smile. Gods. Those two idiots don’t stand a chance. “Do you love Celyn?”
“I love him . . .”
“But you’re not in love with him, yeah? And Éibhear?”
Now she snorted. “I’m trying not to love him at al .”
“Wel , I’m going to tel you what I’d tel one of my sisters. Think of your own life, Izzy. Think about what you want. Now. Don’t let them two throw you off course. They’ve got some growing up to do, and so do you. Do that first and then worry about the rest of it.”
“Iz!” Brannie cal ed out. “Annwyl’s back.”
“Let’s go and deal with our mad queen.”
“Thanks, Rhona.”
“Yeah, sure. Now go on. I’l be right out.”
Izzy walked out and Rhona grabbed her weapons, putting them on before she fol owed. Vigholf stood outside the alcove, eating a turkey leg and grinning down at her.
“Eavesdropping, Northlander?”
“Just listening to someone handle an awkward situation bril iantly.” He grinned. “Babysitter.”
“Oh, shut up with that.”
Varro walked around the corner and that’s when he came face-to-face with the crazed queen.
“Where is he?”
“If you mean King Gaius—”
“Look,” she said, dropping her hands onto his shoulders. “I don’t have time for games. Where is he?” Varro pushed her hands off him and walked around her. “Gaius made himself perfectly clear yesterday. I can assure you that nothing has changed since then.”
“The open games are tomorrow, aren’t they?”
Varro stopped walking and slowly faced the queen. “What?”
“Today they have games of al the wel -known fighters. But tomorrow is the open games. Anyone with coin and the wil ingness to die in the arena can sign up. Yes?”
“Yes. How did you—”
“According to my mate’s father,” the unstable female—although she looked much saner at this moment than she had the evening before—put her arm around Varro’s shoulders, “I’m a right little brawler. So let’s have some fun with that, eh?” Rhona was in the middle of her meal when Annwyl crouched in front of her. The queen looked different . . . clear-eyed. Rational. Wel , as rational as she had looked before the war against the Irons.
“I’ve been told you’re an excel ent blacksmith,” Annwyl began with no preamble. “Is that true?”
“Did my father tel you that?”
“No. He just said you were missing your true cal ing. I heard from someone else.”
“Who?”
“Can we discuss that later? Are you a blacksmith or not?”
“Wel —”
“She is,” Vigholf volunteered for her. “A real y excel ent one who’s considering coming back to the Northlands with me when this is over so she can make weapons for my brethren.”