How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(56)

Chapter 17

They sat on his Uncle Bram’s table, one of the bottles of ale polished off. But Éibhear was unwilling to open the second. He liked his lungs to be functional . . . to breathe. He was sure if he drank another drop of that ale, breathing would be the last thing they’d ever do.

Yet he was willing to drink as much as he had because, at the very least, it relaxed things a bit between him and Izzy. She wasn’t drunk. Not even close. But she was like the Izzy he remembered. The Izzy he hadn’t embarrassed in front of their family. The Izzy he hadn’t walked away from that last night on the hill outside Garbhán Isle. Instead, she was the Izzy who liked to steal his weapons—weapons very few humans could lift much less abscond with and then “train” with—and argue with him over ridiculous things and play with his hair.

It gave him hope that, even now, when she thought he wasn’t looking, she’d stare at his hair. He liked to imagine her fingers itching to run through it.

Laughing, she held up a dagger he’d taken off a Spike a couple of years back. How she’d got it from his leg holster, he had no idea. He’d never seen her move.

“It’s gold.”

“Mostly. Steel makes up the blade.”

“But they use so much.”

“They have tons of it. Under all that ice and snow is tons of gold.”

She handed the weapon back to him. “Did you find a lot?”

“Of gold? Aye. We all did. Anytime we had a break, we’d start digging around a cave or breaking the ice on a river. I was able to afford my own castle not far from my grandfather’s territory. I always liked it there.”

“You own a castle?”

“I own a town. It’s nice. People are friendly. Has an amazing library.”

She snorted. “You and your precious books.” She glanced around. “Uncle Bram’s place must be heaven to you.”

“Too messy. I don’t know how he finds anything.” He looked at the disorganized stacks of books piled on the floors, studying the titles. “Besides . . . read most of these.”

“Why?”

Exasperated, Éibhear demanded, “Who questions reading?”

“I guess I do. Just don’t know why you bother.”

“Because I like it. Did no one teach you to read?”

“I know how to read, you big bastard. I just read important things.”

“Battle histories?”

“Those are quite helpful.” Izzy inched closer. “Did you miss being here? In the Southlands? Among your kin?”

“I guess.” Then Éibhear admitted, “Well, not at first. At first I was too angry to miss anything or anyone.”

“Because of what happened to Austell?”

“That was part of it.”

“It’s hard losing comrades, Éibhear. Of course,” she added, leaning in a bit closer, “everyone tells you that, but it means nothing until you’ve actually been through it.”

“I’m guessing you have.”

“More than I care to think about. It never gets any easier, does it?”

Éibhear shook his head. “No. It doesn’t. I did try not to get close to anyone ever again. Made the whole dramatic commitment to myself and everything.”

Izzy laughed and Éibhear joined her.

“Doesn’t seem to have worked, though, if your three friends are any indication.”

“There’s truth to that. Aidan and I traveled to the Ice Lands together. We met Cas and Uther during a pit fight.”

“Pit fight? Is that popular in the Ice Lands?”

“Don’t know. It was a Mì-runach pit fight.”

“You lot have pit fights? Between you? Whatever for?”

“Sort out issues.”

“Issues?”

“Gambling debts, arguments—”

“Women?”

Éibhear lifted his gaze to Izzy’s. “Occasionally,” he replied slowly. “But mostly gambling debts.”

“Do you have any regrets?” she asked.

Frowning, he asked, “About pit fights?”

“No.” She took the mug he held in his hand. “No more ale for you.”

“I’d already decided on that.”

“I mean do you have any regrets in general?”

“I’m a little young for regrets, don’t you think? I’m not even a hundred and fifty yet.”

“All right.”

“Why? Do you?”

“Just one.”

“And what’s that?”

“That I never got a chance to kiss you.”

Éibhear studied her for a moment and took the cup out of her hand. “And no more ale for you, I’m afraid.”

Izzy laughed. “I’m not drunk, Éibhear.”

“I didn’t say you were. Just don’t want this to get . . . uncomfortable. And, by the gods of death and pain, what is that smell?”

Sighing, Izzy leaned over a bit and snapped her fingers. “Oy. You. Out.”

Macsen whined, but Izzy didn’t want to hear it. “Out,” she pushed. “Now. Go for a walk or go kill something.”