How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(52)

“Robert.”

“You check inside, I’ll check the other buildings.”

Éibhear searched the grounds and even went outside the gates and looked around for about two miles, but he found nothing. When he returned, Izzy had put up her horse in the unused stables and was now sitting on the big table in the middle of the hall. The table was only used for dining when Ghleanna and Éibhear’s cousins were in attendance. Otherwise, the table was covered in books and papers. And now Izzy’s butt.

“Nothing,” Éibhear said when he walked in. “You?”

“Empty.” She glanced around. “I guess Robert could have gone into town. Perhaps he’ll be back later.”

Standing next to her, Éibhear folded his arms over his chest. “Unless he had work to do. Depending on how much responsibility Uncle Bram gives his assistants, Robert could be gone for days. Do you know what Bram needs?”

“Yes, and a general idea of where it should be. Still . . .”

“You sound extremely disappointed,” he noted. “Were you and Robert . . . friendly?”

“I’m friendly with lots of people, Éibhear. But if you’re asking if we were f**king, then no—”

“I was not asking—”

“But he does make a wonderful leg of lamb and I am really hungry.”

“I can make you leg of lamb.”

“Thank you, but I prefer my meats cooked rather than burned to an unidentifiable crisp.”

“That’s Morfyd. She always overcooks the food. I, however, am a wonderful cook. I cooked for your mother. Didn’t she tell you? And by the gods of piss and blood, what is that horrible smell?”

“Oh, yes,” she sighed, not bothering to look at him. “The porridge story. Haven’t heard that in six . . . months. And that horrible smell is my dog. He’s under the table.”

“Can’t we put him outside?”

“No, we cannot.”

“Then can I—”

“Leave my dog alone. He’s not bothering you.”

“He’s bothering my senses. Between that smell and that slobbering sound he’s making.”

“He has allergies, it makes him drool.”

“And this is who you sleep with?”

“He sleeps on his back so there’s much less drool.” Then she added, “Although he does tend to wake up in the middle of the night choking.”

Shuddering, Éibhear stepped away from the table. “I don’t want to discuss this anymore. I’ll find something to feed us and you find what Uncle Bram needs.” He headed off to the kitchens. “Are we leaving tonight?” he asked as he walked.

“I have no idea what you’re doing, but I’m staying the night. I need time to think . . . preferably by myself.”

Éibhear stopped and faced her. “Will you be less caustic if I get a little food in you?”

“I might be,” she snapped. “As I said, I’m hungry and I have a lot on my mind!”

“Now we’ve got bellowing,” he muttered, again heading toward the kitchens. “Lovely.”

Annwyl sat at the desk she rarely used, one foot on the edge of the desk, her gaze focused on the stained-glass window. When the knock on the door came, she ignored it. But, as she’d learned over the years, there were few who lived at Garbhán Isle with her who let one ignored knock deter them. Yet she also knew that whoever was on the other side of that door was human, for dragons rarely knocked at all, and if they did knock, they rarely waited for her answer.

By the third knock, Talaith’s voice said from the other side, “Come on, you bitchy sow. I know you’re in there.”

Laughing a little, and also a little relieved to be pulled from her darker-by-the-day thoughts, Annwyl called, “In.”

Talaith entered, closing the door behind her. “You all right?”

“Do I have to be?”

“You should at least try. For the children.”

Then they laughed because some days it seemed like the last thing their children needed was them.

Talaith sat down in a chair on the other side of the desk, her hands resting on the wood. She wore her usual ensemble of black cotton leggings, black knee-high boots, and a loose cotton shirt. This time in a bright blue. Her long hair was loosely tied with a leather strap at her nape, the curly tendrils reaching down her back, and she wore no jewelry except for a lone silver necklace that she kept under her clothes and close to her heart. She was a woman with simple tastes and yet the most beautiful Annwyl had known.

She tried not to hate Talaith for that.

“How did it go with Izzy?” Annwyl asked.

“Surprisingly awful. Who knew she hated my mother so much? She’s never even met her.”

“Do you really not know how protective Izzy is of you?”

“I don’t need protection.”

“It doesn’t matter. Not to Izzy. As far as she’s concerned, your mother is a demon incarnate and deserves to burn for eternity for what she did to you.”

“Well”—Talaith shrugged—“she’s right, but that’s not the point.”

Izzy would have to say that going through Bram the Merciful’s desk was quite fascinating. The dragon seemed to have some connection to everyone. He had correspondence from the hills and valleys to the west that went far past the territorial lines of the Sovereigns. He also had ongoing correspondence with the people of the east, who lived far across the dangerous seas. He’d also been in communication with warlords from the Northlands and Ice Lands, attempting to broker peace between different tribes and hordes. There were other documents that she assumed were from dragons. She couldn’t read them since they were written in the old language of the dragons, but based on the size of the documents . . . yeah, probably dragons.