How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(84)

“What are you doing here?” He grinned. “Had to see me, eh?”

And that was why Izzy didn’t like him very much. Ever since he’d found out Izzy and Celyn had been together, he’d been on a quest to get between her legs. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive. He was. But he was also a bit of an annoying prat, too. Not a charming prat like Gwenvael. Just annoying.

“I’m on a trip with—”

“Brannie?” Fal asked, his gaze behind Izzy. He smiled, but it quickly faded and the busy activity around Izzy abruptly stopped. She turned, afraid of what she’d find . . . but it was just Brannie, Éibhear, Aidan, Uther, and Caswyn.

Yawning, Brannie stomped up beside Fal and Izzy.

“Fal.” She nodded at her brother. “You got fat.”

Izzy gasped. “Brannie!”

“He is. Dragons can get fat, you know, Iz. The Cadwaladrs just choose not to.” She cut her brother a hard look. “Or should I say most of the Cadwaladrs choose not to.”

Fal gripped his sister’s forearm. “I need to talk to you.”

“What? You need some diet tips—hey!”

Izzy watched Fal drag his sister off; then she noticed that everyone was staring at Éibhear and the others. A few leaned over to nearby comrades and whispered, rather loudly, “Mì-runach.” But there was a tone of disgust and fear. A tone she didn’t much appreciate.

They were all still part of the same army, still there to protect the Dragon Queen and her subjects. So the Mì-runach did it a little differently? What did that matter?

“Oy!” Izzy yelled out, as she did with her own troops. “Don’t you lot have work to get done? Now?”

“And who the hells are you?” some upstart demanded.

“I am Iseabail the Dangerous,” she called up to the rude bastard. “Daughter of Talaith and Briec the Mighty. General to Annwyl the Bloody’s Eighth, Fourteenth, and Twenty-sixth Legions.” She threw down the horn-handled dagger her father had had made for her many years ago. “And killer of the dragon whose horn that used to be, Olgeir the Wastrel.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Who are you?”

Aidan leaned in and whispered low into Éibhear’s ear, “I’d initially found her large shoulders a tad off-putting. But I must say that at this moment . . . completely understand the attraction.”

Éibhear didn’t answer him, but instead watched the troops go back to their work. Izzy swiped up her dagger, tucked it back into the holster attached to her sword belt, and marched over to Éibhear’s side. She motioned him down with a wave of her hand. He lowered himself a bit. “Aye?”

“Why does everyone hate you? Other than the obvious reasons, of course.”

Smart-ass. “Because we’re Mì-runach.”

“You’d think they’d appreciate what you do for your queen.”

“You’d think.”

She looked so annoyed by how the others had treated him and his comrades. Whether she realized she was upset for him, Éibhear didn’t know, but he was enjoying it. Enjoying her. He wouldn’t mention that, though. He knew it would only piss her off.

“I’m not discussing it!” Brannie roared as she came stomping around a corner, her idiot brother Fal following behind her.

“You can’t just bring bloody Mì-runach here, Branwen! Not without permission of—”

Brannie spun around and faced her brother, her sharpened tail pointing in his face, dangerously close to his eye. “The Mì-runach are part of this army, you idiot. They need no one’s permission to go anywhere on Her Majesty’s territory. And Éibhear is your cousin. He’s kin. A Cadwaladr by blood. Never forget that, Fal the Tepid.”

Éibhear leaned down a bit more and whispered, “That name will stick.”

“Aye. I’m afraid you may be right.” Izzy cringed a bit, but added, “Tragic really, but from what I understand . . . deserved.”

“You two going to start braiding each other’s hair next?” Uther grumbled. And, when they all turned to look at him: “I’m hungry!”

“We’d best get him fed,” Aidan warned. “You know how he gets.”

Éibhear glanced around. “There’s got to be something to eat around here until we can get a proper meal.” He pointed across the cavern. “There. Cow’s legs.”

Izzy looked over. “Good gods, those are cow’s legs. They just have cow’s legs lying around? Like treats?”

“What would you expect a dragon to eat?” Éibhear asked her. “Chicken legs?”

“I guess you have a point, but . . .”

Uther now stood in front of them with a cow’s leg, using his fangs to rip meat off the bone. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and he sighed loudly. “That’s good.”

Izzy gazed up at Éibhear. “Eww.”

Izzy put her hand to her mouth to hide her laugh and keep food from flying out. When it was decided that the Mì-runach were staying—dealing with Izzy was one thing for these dragons, but dealing with Captain Branwen the Awful was definitely another—a small feast was thrown together in one of the caverns with a long dining table, plates, and utensils. And, in honor of Iseabail, everyone came as human. At least they said it was in honor of Iseabail. Izzy really thought it was more about getting a chance to hang around the human prostitutes in their less intimidating forms.