All right. But what about the priests and priestesses who reside in our empire? Who expect our protection.
Gaius stood tall, his eyes narrowing. Where did you send the first legion?
To the Priests of the God of Suffering.
He knew the location. Knew of the head priest. All right.
And when will you be home?
Soon.
“Gaius?” Brannie asked. “Everything all right?”
“Everything is fine. Just checking with my sister.”
Gaius faced Brannie and pulled the sword she had hanging from her belt and swung it once, cutting Didacus’s head in half. He handed the blade back to her.
“Let’s go. We head back to Sovereign territories immediately.”
She stared at the gore-covered weapon for several seconds before looking up at Gaius.
“What happened to your own sword?”
“Gave it away. But I need a new gladius. These oversized, cumbersome Southlander swords are ridiculous.”
“What’s wrong with our swords?” Brannie demanded, the pair walking away seconds before Didacus’s body returned to its natural dragon form, destroying many trees in the process.
“They’re useless.”
“Mine seemed to do fine with your cousin’s head!”
Brigida had been napping on a pile of books when she snapped awake. For a few seconds, she was panicked. She felt lost. Incoherent. She hadn’t felt that way in so long, she was almost positive she’d been a young one again. Still hanging on to her mother’s tail.
“If you’d been anyone else,” a voice from a dark corner told her, “you’d have woken up screaming.”
Brigida spun around, her tail sending magick text flying across the room, the tip raised, ready to strike.
After a moment of silence, the darkness cleared and Brigida let out a breath. “It’s just you.”
Princess Rhianwen gazed at Brigida in a way that made her feel—for once—surprisingly uncomfortable. No one made her feel uncomfortable. Brigida made others feel uncomfortable. She enjoyed it, feeding off their fear.
But this mostly human child . . .
“What do you want, girl?” Brigida snapped.
Only two of The Three had come back a few months after spending some time with them royals and the Cadwaladr clan. That hadn’t surprised Brigida, though. Talwyn needed to be near her mother. She needed to learn from her. But the boy and the princess . . . they needed to be here. The boy, he’d taken on the other Abominations. Training them. Organizing them. Just like his father, that one. He didn’t like being in charge, but he accepted it when it was necessary. And the girl . . . to be honest, Brigida hadn’t paid much attention to her since she’d returned. They spent their time reading books. Doing rituals. But never together. They barely spoke. And when the girl was feeling lonely, she went outside and spent time with the other Abominations and the monk and two Kyvich witches that the twins had brought with them so many months back. Her “friends,” she called them.
Witches shouldn’t have friends. Not ones that had real work to do. And them three, Talan, Talwyn, and Rhianwen, all had work to do.
But needing friends. Needing family . . . that just made the girl weak in Brigida’s mind. Weak and useless. Something Brigida had no time for.
“What were you dreaming, Auntie Brigida?”
“Don’t you never mind, girl. Just an old She-dragon dreaming of the—”
“Stop lying to me,” the girl said, for the first time sounding dangerous. “We don’t have time for your lies and we both know it.”
“What I know, girl, is that I’m the last one you should think about getting uppity with. I ain’t one of them precious aunts of yours. I ain’t got no real use for you, so stomping on you until you’re nothing but shit on me claw won’t mean nothin’ to me.”
With a slight shake of her head and a deep intake of breath, the girl sighed out, “Fine.”
Then the girl slapped her hand against Brigida’s forearm, pressing her fingers against the scales. And, in that instant, Brigida knew the girl was in her head! Physically inside her mind. Looking around, examining shit. Being nosey, Brigida’s mum used to call it.
Shocked and annoyed, Brigida tossed her out, but when the girl’s eyes snapped open, there was nothing there but cold rage.
“You bitch,” the brat growled, her voice low. No longer the sweet darling of the Cadwaladr Clan. “You know what they’re looking for. What they’ve been torturing and killing for all these months. You know!”
“Don’t bellow at me, little bitch! I’ll rip that puny soul right out of you and drink it down like wine.”
She faced Brigida head-on. “Then do it.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Take my soul. Drink it down like wine. Do it.”
Brigida reared back a bit. “What is wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me?” Rhianwen asked. “I’m tired of your shit.”
“You’ve lost your mind, little girl, if you think you can take me on.” Brigida flicked her claws. “Get from my sight until you get control of yourself.”
Then Brigida turned to go, but she reared back and, for the first time in eons, she gazed in horror around her. For she was no longer in her cave. But in a field of vast green, with trees and lakes and mountains as far as her old eyes could see.
“What the . . . what the fuck have you done?”
“What’s going on?”
Brigida looked over her shoulder and saw the twins. They were both here. Physically. Although she knew for a fact that the boy had been far outside her cave with the other Abominations and the girl had been with her mother leagues away at Garbhán Isle.
“What’s happening?” Brigida demanded. “Where am I?”
“She knows,” Rhianwen told the twins. “She knows and she hasn’t said a word.”
The boy “tsk-tsk’d” her. “Oh, Auntie Brigida. Still choosing sides?”
“The only side I have is me own. Thought you knew that.”
“We’re beyond your side,” Talwyn told her. “Right now, there’s only two. Ours. And his.”
She was talking about Chramnesind.
“So if you’re not helping us,” Talwyn went on, “you’re helping him. And we can’t have that.”
“You lot think you can take me down? Me?”
“Take you down?” Rhianwen asked. “No. Leave you here to rot? That we can do.”
“See over there?” Talwyn asked, pointing. “Those three?” Brigida glanced over and spotted the souls of three shamans. They looked like Riders of the Western Mountains. Unlike the Riders of the Outerplains, these Riders were slave traders and Queen Annwyl had made it her business to destroy them. A war that had come right to Annwyl’s door when the children were still very young. “They tried to kill us when we were . . . eight?”
“Nine,” Talan corrected.
“We’ve had their souls here ever since. When I need a little extra oomph, I feed off them. Which Rhi hates.”
“It’s one thing to keep them here, because what they did was wrong. But to feed off them is tacky.” Abruptly those silver eyes locked on Brigida. “But with you, Auntie, we’ll do it.”