“Rooms are fine,” the Iron cut in, his glower still on Annwyl. “But we really came here to meet with Bram the Merciful.”
“Izzy,” Brastias cut in, “said she’d make sure to have him sent here.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Brastias. While you’re waiting, my lord,” Dagmar offered, “why not take a few minutes to freshen up after your long journey in one of the available guest rooms? We can have some food sent up or you can eat down here—and who let this disgusting animal in the house?”
Izzy’s dog immediately sat, slobber-filled tongue hanging out of his mouth as he gazed up at her.
“Izzy left him to watch out for our visitors while she handled some other . . . things,” Brastias explained.
“Well . . . he smells. So could you please put him outside . . . or in a pit somewhere. Perhaps a shallow grave.”
“Not sure Izzy will like that last one, but I’ll see what I can do.” Brastias grabbed a piece of bread from the table and swiped it by the dog’s nose. “Come on, boy.”
Since the dog would and did eat anything, he immediately followed.
Dagmar let out a breath and again focused her attention on the royals. “Now . . . where was I?”
“You were welcoming us to Garbhán Isle.”
“Oh. Right.”
Éibhear escorted them to the table, got them seated, then proceeded to pour them tea. When he was done with that, he put out a plate of sweet biscuits and sat down at the table. He smiled at them. “Now isn’t this better?”
“Much,” Rhi said, sipping her tea. “Thank you, Uncle Éibhear.”
“You’re welcome.”
Izzy slammed her elbows on the table and buried her face in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” Éibhear asked.
“This,” she said, dropping her hands and looking over Éibhear and her sister. “This is what’s wrong with our family.”
“Our love of tea?”
“No.” She closed her eyes and took a breath. “The fact that we don’t address anything directly.”
“I didn’t say we couldn’t address anything. I just think we should do it over tea.”“It’s soothing,” Rhi added.
The two smiled at each other again and Izzy decided that was it.
Pushing back her chair, she stood. “Get up. Let’s go.”
Éibhear’s eyes narrowed. “Go where?”
Bram the Merciful decided to meet with King Gaius and his sister up in their room. After what he’d heard from the Cadwaladrs about the latest event between the Southland queens and the Kyvich witches, he knew that energy levels would be high. With high energy levels came ridiculous arguments, violent outbursts, and fistfights. Always with the fistfights. It still amazed him that although the Cadwaladrs were the low-born battle dogs of the Southland dragons, it was the ones who were heirs to the Dragon Queen’s throne who were the most violent and unpredictable.
He didn’t need any of that sort of thing around the current ruler of at least part of the Quintilian Provinces.
Since the war against Overlord Thracius had ended, Gaius Domitus and his twin sister, Princess Agrippina, had taken over rule, but those who once ruled with Overlord Thracius, especially one of his sons, refused to bow down to the Rebel King. So the Provinces had become divided and a constant civil war had been going on since. Bram knew well the reputation of Thracius’s son and he knew that Queen Rhiannon could not afford for the Rebel King to lose. Any offspring of Thracius’s was a danger to the safety of the Southland dragons, something Bram was not about to forget or dismiss.
“What is it you need from us, King Gaius?”
“Gaius, please.” The young dragon dropped into a chair, long legs stretched out in front of him. He looked exhausted, probably having come to the conclusion that obtaining rule was one thing, keeping it something else altogether. “I don’t really have the luxury of niceties at the moment.” He glanced at his sister, motioned to the bed. “Sit down, Aggie, before you drop.”
The dragoness glanced at Bram before asking her brother, “Are you really sure we’re safe here? That crazy woman didn’t even remember us. And we’ve never met the Dragon Queen, so she and her offspring have no reason to feel the need to—”
“You’re safe here, my lady,” Bram promised. “On my honor and my name, you, your brother, and the soldiers you’ve brought with you will be kept safe and protected as long as you’re in Garbhán Isle.”
“Yes, but . . .” She sat down on the bed, her body turned toward Bram. “The human queen. Can she be trusted?”
“Aggie—”
“She didn’t even remember your name, Gaius.”
“Annwyl doesn’t care,” Bram admitted.
Lady Agrippina blinked. “Pardon?”
“She doesn’t care. About you. About your brother. About your problems in the west. She doesn’t care.”
“Then why are we here? And how are we safe?”
“Oh, you couldn’t be safer.”
The twins frowned at the same time and Bram explained, “What I mean is Annwyl does not care about politics. Who’s in charge and where, means nothing to her. But if you’re a threat, she’ll destroy you. If you’re an ally, she’ll protect you with her life.”
“Even though she doesn’t seem to remember us?” the king asked.