She was drawing on parchment, but when he sat down, she reached over and began braiding his hair.
“You sent me a gift while I was away, didn’t you, Rhian?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Do you know what kind of gift it was?”
Fearghus had final y explained to Briec how bad his injuries had been from that boulder to the back. And Briec had seen enough battle wounds to know that he never should have survived what his brother had described to him. But Briec had survived, which made him realize that his strange dream—not real y a dream.
“It was to make you feel better.”
“And it did. Very much so. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She smiled up at him, and he ignored his desire to just pick her up in his arms and hold her.
“Did someone give you that?” Briec asked. “The thing you sent me to make me better?”
“No.”
“How did you know it would help me?”
“I just knew.”
Interesting and a bit terrifying. “What else can you do?”
She shrugged. “I can draw.” She held up the picture she was working on. It was a drawing of a horse and it wasn’t half bad.
“Yes. You can. Anything else, though? Can you do anything I couldn’t do? Or your mum? Or your cousins?” She looked up, squinting her eyes. Her “thinking” face he would guess. “I can go places.” Briec’s heart dropped. “Go places?”
“Like Lord Ren. I can travel. Sometimes I can send things away. Like those bad men. Didn’t tel Mommy about them, though. She’d have been upset.” Wel , that was most likely an understatement.
“You didn’t tel her about the bad men?”
“Uh-uh.” She went back to working on her drawing. “They were here to hurt me and the twins.”
“So you sent them away?”
“Uh-huh. Afterward.”
“After . . . what?”
“After the twins were done.”
Briec flinched. This was getting worse and worse.
“After they were done doing what?”
“Stopping the bad men from hurting us.”
“How did they do that?”
“With their swords.”
Aye. Worse and worse.
“And then you sent the bad men away?”
“Back to the other bad men beyond the gate. I knew if Mommy saw them lying there she’d be sad and I hate when she’s sad.”
“So do I.”
“But Tal y was mad at me because I sent the swords with them and now she doesn’t have her sword.”
“I’m sure Sulien wil give her and Talan new swords.”
“Good, because she stil complains.”
“The twins talk to you?”
“In my head.”
Gods. It had taken him and his siblings years to hone the skil s necessary to communicate with each other simply by thinking. For Rhian and the twins to be able to do it after only a few years . . .
Briec picked his daughter up and sat her in his lap, lifting her chin with the tip of his finger so she looked right at him.
“I need you to do me a favor, Rhian.”
“Not tel anyone about what I can do?”
Smart girl. “Aye.”
“Because they won’t understand?”
“Aye.”
“Al right.”
“You’re not upset about that?”
“No. Sometimes people and dragons are stupid. Why should I help them be even more stupid?” Briec chuckled, knowing that he was so blessed to have been given such amazing daughters. “Has anyone told you how bril iant you are?”
“Mommy has, but then she says ‘But don’t tel your daddy because he’l just say’”—and his daughter’s voice dropped amusingly lower—“‘Of course she is! She’s my daughter.’ Then Mommy smiles.” His daughter looked up at him with eyes so much like his own. “She missed you every day you were gone.”
“She told you that?”
“No. I felt it. She likes it when you argue.” His daughter smirked. “You like it too.”
“I do. But ssssh. Don’t tel . It’s our secret.”
“Al right.” She twirled his hair around her smal fingers and asked, “Wil I grow up and argue with someone I love one day, Daddy?”
“As part of this family, Rhian? Absolutely.”
They rested against the fence surrounding the training field, passing a warm loaf of bread back and forth between them. Rhona’s father stood next to her, his elbow on the fence, his chin resting in the palm of his hand.
The sounds of steel crashing against steel rang out over the courtyard, luring other Cadwaladrs to the fence. Some were eating their first meal, bowls of hot porridge in their hands, and others were simply watching. How could they not? It wasn’t every day one could witness two children, not even nine winters yet, who could sword fight like that. Uncle Bercelak final y walked away from the twins and motioned to Vigholf. “What’s that doing here?” he asked Bradana.
“And a happy hel o to you, too,” Vigholf said with enough cheer to choke a pig.
Bercelak gave one glare at the Lightning, then looked back at his sister. “Wel ?”
“Wel , what?”
“Isn’t it bad enough we have one around?” And Ragnar, standing next to Ghleanna, waved. “Now we’ve got two?” Bradana suddenly stood tal , glaring at her younger brother. “He’s with me Rhona, ain’t he? So you watch how you talk. Ya ain’t too old to tear the wings off of, Bercelak the Black . ”