Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(99)

“Yes. I do.”

Keita gasped, outraged, and pulled her fist back to assault him with one of her weak pummelings when her sharp gaze caught sight of a blonde wearing a dark blue cape and moving quickly down the street. “It’s her!”

“It’s who?”

“Come.”

“Pardon?”

“We can’t let her get away!” She caught his hand and tried to drag him with her. When he only gawked at her, refusing to be moved until she told him what was going on, she dropped his hand, lifted the skirt of her gown, and followed the woman.

Who knew that sleeping late would cause Éibhear to miss a second fight between Annwyl and Vigholf and Meinhard? And this time he wouldn’t have had to worry about stopping them and possibly losing his head in the process or being responsible for a small territorial incident because it had all taken place in the training ring. But according to the servants who’d brought him something to eat earlier, he’d missed quite the battle. Typical.

But he was home and he was glad to be.

He walked down the stairs and into the Great Hall. No one was around; even the servants off doing something else, somewhere else. It didn’t help that he was bored and still feeling the effects of all that wine from last night. Still, he’d had quite the good time at the pubs with a few of his male cousins and several of the barmaids.

He debated what to do now, and decided that heading into town would work. He could stop by the booksellers and see what was new and interesting—which would probably be everything since it had been ages that he’d purchased a new book. The Northlanders were not big on books and on very few occasions did he get a chance to stop by a bookseller or library.

And gods, when he suggested it, he only got blank stares from the others.

That did sound perfect, though, didn’t it? A good book and a hearty meal at one of the local pubs.

Checking his pocket for coin—he’d stolen some from Briec’s room, it’s not like his brother needed so much—Éibhear set off.

He walked outside and immediately winced from the light searing his brain. It didn’t deter him from his goal, but it reminded him that drink was not always his friend. He simply didn’t handle it as well as his kin.

Taking his time and only able to keep one eye open, he walked down the Great Hall steps. As soon as his feet touched the cobblestones of the courtyard, he turned toward the side exit and started off.

“Hello, Éibhear.”

Éibhear stopped and looked back at the stairs. He’d thought he’d passed someone on the steps, but he’d been so focused on just getting down them without throwing up, he hadn’t really paid much mind.

Squinting, he leaned in a bit to get a better look. Gods, he might never drink again at this rate.

“Uh…hello.”

“Gods…have I changed that much in two years that my own uncle doesn’t recognize me?”

Éibhear’s eyes opened wide—both of them—and he ignored the pain doing so caused as he stared at her. “Izzy?” Her smile, as always, lit up her face and his world. He hated her for that smile. On those long, lonely patrols in desolate Northland territory, it had been that smile he couldn’t stop thinking about.

“How…how are you?”

“Fine. Found out my parents and entire family are”—and this she yelled up at the castle walls—“complete and utter liars! ”

“Oh, get over it already!” Talaith yelled back from somewhere inside.

“But other than that,” Izzy went on, “I’m fine. How about you?”

“I’m fine.”

“The Northlands have treated you well, I see. You’re bigger. All over.”

Don’t say it. Do not say it!

“Lots of hard work. How’s army life?” he asked quickly to change the subject.

“I’m still in formation,” she complained, rolling her eyes.

“I move trees. A lot.”

She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure in a few more years we’ll both be forces to be reckoned with.”

Éibhear pointed at her. “What have you got there?” She held up the ball of fur. “Puppy.”

“You didn’t get that from Dagmar’s kennels, did you? She’ll have your hide.”

“So telling her I found him wandering around outside won’t work?”

“Not even a little.”

She brought the puppy closer to her face, her nose to its wet snout.

“But he’s so cute.”

“And in a few more months, he’ll be able to take your face completely off.”

“Then I definitely want him.”

Éibhear chuckled. “I see you haven’t changed, Izzy.”

“It depends on who you talk to.”

It hit Éibhear at that moment, watching Izzy with her puppy, still wearing travel-soiled leggings and a sleeveless tunic, dirt on her cheeks and neck…he was over her. All those inappropriate feelings he’d had for her—and the gods knew how he loathed all those damn, uncontrollable feelings—were gone. He still couldn’t see her as his niece, or even a cousin, but she was still Izzy. Izzy that he had no interest in whatsoever.

The realization made his headache fade away, and he stepped a little closer. “I was about to go into town, stop by the booksellers, then get something to eat. Maybe you’d like to—”