She waved her hand, releasing the witch, letting her drop hard to the ground.
“Get up,” she sneered. “You gonna be an evil bitch, you’ve got to be ready to suffer for the privilege.”
The witch yanked the blade from her leg and snarled, “What do you want from me, old cunt?”
“You want to keep worshipping your dark gods and stealing your souls, little Rider? Want to be as powerful as me one day? Then your job is working with these Riders.”
“We do not even know what we are doing. How do you?”
“Don’t ask me stupid questions. Just do what I tell you.”
“And if I don’t?”
Brigida yanked the blade out of the witch’s hand and rammed it into her other thigh.
“Motherfucker!”
Brigida smiled. “That’s what.”
“What is your name, little boy?”
Talan glanced over at the giantess next to him. She was leering at him in a way he was entirely uncomfortable with!
“Talan. Prince Talan. Beloved son of Annwyl the Bloody.”
I can’t believe you’re using Mum, his sister laughed in his head.
Do you see the size of this woman? She could twist me into a braided loaf of bread.
Have some dignity!
If you’re not going to help—fuck off.
“Has she already promised you to another?”
Talan blinked. “Pardon?”
“Polite. My girls will like that.”
Rhi, who’d been pacing in front of them and wringing her hands, snapped, “Why did Kachka bring that witch woman here? What was she thinking?”
“When did you and Kachka Shestakova become such good friends?” Talwyn asked, uncaring about her brother’s current plight—as always! “If memory serves, she called you either the Brown One or the Weeper. Neither of which sounded like compliments to me.”
Rhi stopped pacing and faced Talan. “The woman is evil. We need to kill her.”
“The first time you dislike someone,” Talwyn asked, “and you want to kill her? When did you turn into my mother?”
“Your mother is a saint!”
Talwyn glanced at Talan, widened her eyes a bit, and mouthed, Wow.
“I think we all need to calm down,” Talan soothed before he turned to the giant next to him and barked, “And stop petting my hair!”
“It is so pretty. My daughters will like your pretty hair.”
“Look, I don’t know how things are run in the Outerplains, but I’m a Southlander and we choose our own mates.”
“Who would be foolish enough to let such a pretty boy choose his own wife?”
Yeah? his sister asked in his head. Who?
“You need Zoya to get sturdy woman for you. One of my younger girls would be happy to make you first husband.”
“Leave the pretty boy alone, Zoya,” one of the other Riders admonished.
“I promised my daughters I would bring them strong boys to make their husbands. He is good start, yes?”
Do something!
Rolling her eyes, Talwyn finally came over.
“Back away from him, female,” she said.
“And who are you?” the giant demanded. “No one! I am Zoya Kolesova of the Mountain Movers of the Lands of Pain in the Far Reaches of the Steppes of the Outerplains! You are no one but some Southlander bitch who dresses like Kyvich witch.”
Talwyn’s head tilted to the side. “Mountain Movers? Seriously?”
“Is this you helping me?” Talan wanted to know.“But come on, Talan! Don’t you want to know if they actually moved mountains?”
“No!”
“Is no one else concerned about that woman?” Rhi screeched.
The twins shook their heads. “No.”
“How can you not be concerned?”
“We live with Brigida the Foul,” Talwyn reminded her. “That She-dragon is the epitome of pure evil. You don’t mind her.”
“Because she’s loyal to family. This family.”
“I think you’re being ridiculous.”
“You never listen to me.”
“I listen to you constantly. I just think that, at the moment, you’re being an emotional nutter.”
Rhi stomped her small foot. “For once, just once, I wish you’d side with me. Would that be so bloody hard?”
“What are you talking about?” Talwyn demanded. “I always side with you.”
“No. You constantly argue with me. You argue everything with me!”
“It’s healthy debate.”
“I don’t want a healthy debate. Sometimes I just want you to accept the fact that some bitch is pure evil!”
Then Talwyn did that thing she did that really pissed Rhi off. She blew out a breath and gave a dismissive wave of her hand. Their mother often did the same thing when anyone started talking about anything regarding her kingdom that had nothing to do with battle and war.
But Talwyn wasn’t their mother and Rhi was definitely not their aunt Dagmar. Which was quite evident when she suddenly punched Talwyn in the nose.
“You cow!” Talwyn yelled with her hand over her bleeding nose.
Talan tried to get off the table to get between his sister and cousin, but the giant yanked him back and, to his growing horror, put both her big arms around his chest, pulling him close.
“No, no, pretty boy,” she said close to his ear. “You should never get between two strong women fighting. That is not your place. Your place is just to be pretty and satisfy one of my daughters.”
“Woman,” Talan warned, “get your hands off me.”
The giant laughed. “Look, comrades! He is so very saucy! I love saucy boys!”
By the dark gods, what is happening?
Kachka was nearing the main cavern when she felt her burden lessen a bit. She looked over her shoulder to see that the Iron dragon, in his naked human form, had picked up the bear and carried it over his shoulder.
“Trying to impress?” she asked.
“Of course! That’s what kings do. We either want to impress or terrify.”
“I like that you are honest.”
As they came around a corner, the old She-dragon limped her way into the tunnel. And moving slowly behind her was Nina Chechneva.
Kachka frowned, wondering what was wrong with her.
“Ahh, Lady Brigida,” the king said.
“I ain’t no lady, Iron scum. So say your piece.”
“Still haven’t let that first war go, have you, Brigida?”
“No,” the witch replied flatly. “So what do ya want?”
“I was told you can get me to the Southlands . . . quickly. Is that true?”
“Yeah. But what do I get out of it? I do nothin’ for free, Iron scum.”
“Can anyone just use my name?” the dragon asked . . . the air.
Kachka fell back to walk beside Nina. She sniffed the air. “Are you bleeding?”
“I do not want to talk of it.”
“Well, comrade, if it is your monthly, stuff something up there. These dragons and Abominations will have you half-eaten before you can hope to beg for your useless life.”
“It is not my . . . forget it.”
“Already done.”