How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(22)

“We leave in the morning, when the suns rise,” she told them.

“Well—” Éibhear began.

“Shut up.” Izzy pointed one of her swords at him. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Again?”

“You are a true idiot, Éibhear the Blue,” she snarled and walked off.

“You really have a way with the females,” Aidan told Éibhear.

And the blue dragon smiled. “They do like me.”

Chapter 8

As Izzy had ordered, they left the next morning before the suns were even up. But she’d refused to fly when Éibhear refused to carry her horse and her dog. He knew better than to ask the others to carry the two animals. Dragons were not beasts of burden and Izzy, of all humans, knew this.

Brannie, however, managed to find the four Mì-runach horses that were not only strong enough to carry the weight of a dragon male in human form, but also willing to carry a dragon at all.

They traveled for hours until midday, when they stopped in a wooded area for a quick meal. While they pulled out dried meat from their travel packs, Izzy walked off with that monstrosity she had the nerve to call a dog. That thing had run by Izzy’s side all morning and didn’t even appear winded.

And no one thinks that’s strange?

Since they had some time, Éibhear followed Izzy, tracking her down by a freshwater stream. Her dog was busy splashing around, trying to grab the fish, while she crouched beside it taking in palms-full of water.

“Sure he’s not a bear?” Éibhear asked loudly, not wanting to sneak up on her. He was tired of getting things thrown at him. . . . How did Gwenvael put up with that sort of thing constantly?

“He’s a dog,” she replied, shaking off her wet hands. “I promise.”

Éibhear crouched down beside her and she sighed.

“What do you want, Éibhear?”

He let out a breath and plunged forward. “To apologize.”

“For killing the ogre leader? One of my troops? Or for not taking ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Uh . . . I didn’t know I had to apologize for any of that.”

“You didn’t . . .” She shook her head and stood. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

Éibhear caught her hand. “Don’t go.”

“Why should I stay?” She snatched her hand away. “I don’t even know what the mighty hells you’re apologizing for, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m in the mood to find out.”

Éibhear stood. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Even that time you yelled at me in front of my mother about that dagger I borrowed from you?”

“Borrowed? You stole that damn . . .” Éibhear stopped. He would not let her goad him into one of these ridiculous arguments they’d been having since they’d met. “Izzy—”

“Or that time you told my father that Gwenvael was taking me flying behind his back.”

“Your mother made it clear she didn’t want you flying.”

“Or that other time you—”

“All right!” Éibhear blew out a breath. “Gods, woman! I’m trying to apologize.”

“Yes. For everything. Perhaps,” she suggested, “if you narrowed the scope of your all-important apology.”

“Fine. I’m sorry about what happened between you, me, and Celyn.”

“Which was what exactly?”

“Now you’re just tormenting me.”

“You mean like you did after you found out I’d been sleeping with Celyn so you beat him bloody just before calling me a whore in front of your kin?”

“Yes,” Éibhear reluctantly admitted. “Like that.”

“Do you know because of what you did there are still at least three of your aunts who call me the whore who got between cousins?”

Éibhear stared down at her. “You expect me to believe you allow any of my aunts to keep calling you a whore?”

She shrugged. “Perhaps after a few knife fights at family dinners, they no longer say the words . . . but they’re thinking it. And then you,” she snarled. “After ten years you simply have to apologize? You have to dredge up the past?”

“As a matter of fact, Iseabail, I did apologize earlier.”

“Oh, really? Was I there at the time of this apology? Because I don’t remember it.”

“I apologized in a letter. But my comrades, Aidan and the others, they burned it.”

“A letter? You apologized to me in a letter?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“And when was this letter not sent?”

“Five years or so ago.”

“I see.”

“Look, Izzy, I know you don’t believe me. But I am sorry about what happened. I really am.”

She studied him for a long moment and he waited for what had decidedly become an acid tongue over the years. But then Izzy smiled, patted his shoulder, and said, “And I accept your apology, Éibhear. And thank you for it. It was very kind.”

And with that . . . she walked off.

Éibhear watched her for a moment. “Wait.”