About a Dragon (Dragon Kin #2)(59)

Panic swept through Talaith like wildfire. “That’s not nec—”

Annwyl waved her argument away with a scarred hand. The woman had many scars. “It’s nothing, Talaith. Really. But, of course, it’s up to you.”

“She snores,” Morfyd warned.

“I do no such thing!” Annwyl yelled back.

“Like a bull in rutting season.”

“When we get back to Garbhán Isle…don’t speak to me.”

“Trust me, Annwyl, that will be a pleasure.”

Talaith would have loved to enjoy their argument, but she couldn’t. Not when it took all her strength not to start shaking.

* * *

Talaith stood outside the back of Annwyl’s tent. Again, she swallowed down her nausea and thought only of her daughter. At the moment, that was all that kept her moving forward. With another quick glance around, Talaith crouched low and burrowed her way between the tent and the ground until she was inside.

She stood and walked over to Annwyl. The woman slept soundly. One arm thrown over her head, the other laying near the floor. Barefoot, she still wore her leggings. And her bindings all she wore on top. Several large blade wounds covered her upper torso and lots of tiny ones covered those. All old and long-ago healed.

The strangest thing was the markings over her collarbone. These marks were of an ancient and intricate design and were light brown against her sun-darkened skin. They resembled a faint tattoo or old brand and Magick radiated off it. Some kind of protection. Perfect.

Her long brown hair lay loose around her and she’d kicked the covers off so that they rested on the floor.

She looked peaceful.

Again Talaith closed her eyes, shutting out everything but the thought of her daughter. This sacrifice would save her daughter and that’s all that mattered.

Keeping that in her mind, she raised the dagger—tightly gripped in both her hands—over Annwyl’s chest. Right over the protective brand on her chest. With a prayer to any god but Arzhela to save whatever may be left of her soul, she brought it down with all the force she could muster.

When it stopped short of its mark, she realized she’d closed her eyes. Otherwise, she would have seen Annwyl’s arms come up, crossed, blocking her from completing the move. Talaith let out a relieved breath and that’s when those cold green eyes snapped open to focus on her.

“I have to admit, I thought you’d be a tad stealthier than this.” Annwyl gripped her hands and turned the blade toward Talaith’s throat.

* * *

Annwyl watched closely as the blade inched closer and closer to Talaith’s throat…and Talaith let it. In fact, she lifted her chin in preparation for the cut. Annwyl pushed it so far, the blade actually pierced the skin and all Talaith did was wince a bit. Then nothing. She’d already resigned herself to it; she could see it in the woman’s eyes. She’d seen it before during her brother’s reign, when Annwyl still lived with him. That resignation when you knew death was imminent and there was no way out. She witnessed it often with those condemned to his dungeons.

Worse, she’d seen it in Talaith’s eyes from when they first met her at that lake. So it wasn’t that she’d given up because Annwyl had a blade to her throat. The woman was dead when she’d walked into the tent.

With an annoyed sniff, Annwyl pushed the woman away and stood, pacing beside her.

“What…what are you doing?”

“Not what you want me to.”

“Dammit.” Talaith grabbed her arm in a vicious grip. Vicious enough to hold its own in a fight and yet hadn’t. “Finish it, Annwyl. Finish it now!”

Annwyl saw the desperation in those dark brown eyes. Knew no amount of rationalizing would help. So Annwyl backhanded her, sending her flying across the tent.

Without another word, Annwyl calmly walked to the tent flap, pulling it back a bit. “Brastias,” she called out. “Fetch me Morfyd, would you?”

“Aye.”

Annwyl stepped back inside, studying the dagger in her hands. It was plain but sturdy and sharp.

Talaith was just rousing herself from the floor when Morfyd walked in. She frowned at Talaith and turned to Annwyl, but her confusion stopped and she stared at the dagger in her hand. “Where did you get that?”

“What? This?” Annwyl waved it at her battle mage and Morfyd jumped back from her.

“Keep that thing away from me.”

“Has everyone lost their mind? I’ve got her trying to kill me in my sleep and you’re suddenly frightened of daggers.”

The dagger quickly forgotten, Morfyd placed her hands on her hips. “I told you it was her.”

“Yes, but you didn’t tell me she’d practically beg me to kill her, now did you?”

Morfyd glanced at Talaith still pulling herself up off the floor. “I’m surprised you didn’t.”

“Does she look insane to you, Morfyd?” Annwyl asked calmly. “Does she look like she doesn’t have control of all her senses?”

“No, but—”

“Then why would she come at me with a blade? She’s not a fool. And only a fool would risk facing me in hand-to-hand combat. We’ve both watched her—she’s a well-trained assassin. She could have poisoned my food or water. She could have killed us all and then slipped away without anyone ever knowing. She could have used the poison-covered pins she has stuck in this hilt.” Annwyl was pretty impressed with herself for catching sight of the extra dangers that lay in the simple and plain dagger. “Instead she puts a dagger to my throat.”