His brothers burst out laughing and Éibhear walked close to the table Fearghus and Briec sat at. He raised his fists and slammed them against the hundred-year-old, thick wood table. It broke into three distinct pieces and crumpled to the floor.

His brothers looked over the mess until Fearghus said, “I’m making you tell Annwyl you broke the war room table.”

Izzy put her arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

“Everything!”

Izzy closed her eyes so that her sister didn’t see her cross them in exasperation. Gods, had she been this dramatic when she was sixteen? Izzy doubted it. Her life had been so serious up to that point, how could she be dramatic?

Taken from her mother right after her birth, Izzy hadn’t met Talaith again until she was sixteen. In the years before that meeting Izzy had traveled the countryside with three soldiers she called her Protectors. Men who’d left their lives and families behind just to protect Izzy from the goddess Arzhela and her followers.

For years those followers had hidden the fact that they’d lost Izzy so that they could keep control of Talaith. It had worked too, until Briec the Mighty came along and changed everything for mother and daughter. He’d fallen in love with Talaith, making her his mate. Or, as the dragons called it, Briec had Claimed Talaith. And from the very beginning, Briec had treated Izzy as his own daughter, without question, without doubt. To a girl who’d never known her birth father, Briec’s unconditional love had meant so very much.

“Can we narrow ‘everything’ down to something manageable?” Izzy asked.

Rhi dropped her head, the back of her hands wiping her cheeks and eyes. “What if I’d killed her?” she whispered.

“Killed who?”

“Talwyn.”

“With that hard head she has?”

Rhi pushed Izzy’s arm off and stalked a few feet away before facing her. “I’m not joking, Izzy.”

She really wasn’t. Rhi was truly distraught, fingers twisted into knots, her entire body shaking.

“But you didn’t kill Talwyn. I saw her, luv. She’s fine.”

“But I could have.”

“And I could have killed many over the years, but I haven’t. Mostly.”

“It’s not the same, Iz.”

“What’s different?”

“I have no control.” Her hands fluttered around. “Over any of . . . of . . . this.”

“Your Magicks?” Izzy moved closer. “What did you mean to do to Talwyn and Talan?”

“I didn’t want them to start fighting. Again. For once Daddy was being reasonable and they were ruining it. So I only wanted to push them away from each other. Just a few feet.”

“And they went flying.”

“Talwyn got the worst because she pissed me off the most . . . and she was closer to an open door.” She covered her face with her hands, but Izzy could still hear her words clear enough. “And if it had been anyone but Talan and Talwyn, they probably would be dead. Their brains dashed—”

The sobbing started again and Izzy went to her sister, pulled her into her arms. “It’s all right, luv. I’m here. I’m home. We’ll figure this out together.”

And her sister gripped her so tight that Izzy knew she owed that big blue bastard for insisting she come back.

Dammit.

Talaith had gone to a nearby village to see a woman who would be giving birth soon. All was going well, but it was the woman’s first child and she was, not surprisingly, nervous. Besides, Talaith wanted father and daughter to work these little issues out on their own. Briec had to learn to listen to Rhi, and Rhi had to learn to stand up for herself without tears and foot stamping. Although Talaith was no royal, her daughter very much was. And, truth be told, if she could learn to manage her father, gods knew she could manage anyone.

Dismounting her mare, Talaith nodded at her armed guards. “We’ll return to the village tomorrow. Sometime after first meal. I’ll see you then.”

“As you wish, my lady,” said the older guard. He took the reins from Talaith and headed to the stables with his companions.

Briec had insisted on Talaith having guards if she was going to be “gallivanting all over the land helping others birth more future running snacks for my kin.” Not exactly how Talaith would put it, but she had laughed.

She headed up the stairs to the Great Hall, hoping not to find father and daughter in yet another screaming-crying match. That did nothing but give her such a headache. But when Talaith walked through the big doors, she stopped and gazed at her twin nephew and niece. Morfyd was busy sewing up a gash on Talan’s arm and Talwyn had a block of ice from the kitchens pressed to the side of her head.

“What the hells happened?”

The twins looked at each other and then away. “Nothing,” they both muttered, which meant it had been something. If it was nothing, Talan would gleefully make up some lie to start trouble while Talwyn would wander away, bored.

Talaith took a quick look around. No Rhi. No Briec. Not liking that at all, she stalked back toward the war room, where Briec and Fearghus had been spending much of their time lately. And not even thirty feet away from the door, she could already hear the bloody fighting!

Éibhear had finally gotten Briec in a nice chokehold after knocking Gwenvael out completely and possibly breaking a couple of Fearghus’s ribs. He was about to twist Briec like a piece of rope when he heard footsteps approaching. He knew from the lightness of the steps that it was definitely not Annwyl. And the quickness told him it wasn’t Dagmar. That left Talaith and Morfyd.




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