Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(100)

“It could be worse, sister. He could be dragon. Then we would be dragging him for hours.”

After they finished cleaning up and changing their clothes, the trio mounted their horses and rode to Garbhán Isle.

Once they were in the courtyard, Celyn quickly dismounted and moved to Elina’s side. He reached up to help her and she immediately slapped his hands away.

“I am not invalid, Dolt.”

“I’m trying to help you.”

“I do not need help. I have been dismounting horses since birth. This I can do.”

Celyn stepped back as Elina’s leg swung over the saddle. He barely missed being kicked in the head. She jumped down and landed just fine, but when she tried to take a step she walked into him. Spatially, she was still a bit off.

He stopped her from falling, but that only got him a little snarl.

“I am fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Do not question me!” she bellowed, shoving him back.

“Gods, woman! I am just trying to help!”

“I do not need your help. I am missing eye. Not head.”

“Elina—”

“Why must we debate everything?” she snapped.

Celyn glanced at Kachka and she gave a little jerk of her head. He understood. Space. Elina needed space. He understood that. He didn’t want to give it, but he understood. Besides, he needed to track down Annwyl before she saw Elina. Around this time of day, she would be training.

“Go inside,” he said. “I’ll catch up.”

“What about old hag?” Kachka asked.

All Celyn could do was shrug. “I’ll warn the family she’s back and . . . somewhere. That’s all we can do.”

Kachka nodded and together they watched Elina, who’d already walked off toward the stairs that would lead into the Great Hall, her gait still a little cautious as she moved.

“Give her time,” Kachka said to him, her voice low. “You tend to push.”

“I know. I try not to, but . . . I’m not good at not pushing. I’m Cadwaladr. . . . We push.”

Kachka smiled, patted his shoulder, which sent him stumbling a bit.

“You are good dragon. And my sister will be fine. She is . . . what is word . . . ?” She thought a moment. “Resilient. She will not let this hold her back for long.”

He knew Kachka was right.

With a nod, he went off in search of Annwyl, but he found Brannie first.

His sister blinked in surprise. “You’re back already?”

“It’s a long story. Where’s Annwyl?”

“Well—”

“Why are you here?” Briec asked as he came around the corner of a building, with Éibhear and Gwenvael a few hundred feet behind him.

“And good tidings to you as well, cousin.”

“I asked you a question.”

“Oh, back off, Briec,” Brannie snapped. “We don’t report to you.”

Focusing on his sister, Celyn asked her, “Annwyl? Where is she?”

“Haven’t seen her this morning. Problems at that death tower she’s building. But she’s probably at the training field by now. You know how cranky she gets when she doesn’t get in some kind of workout. Why do you ask?”

“Because we need to track her down before she sees Elina. Maybe we could all split up and look for her.”

Brannie frowned in confusion as Briec stiffened. “Why? Celyn, what’s going on?”

Celyn sighed. “Like I said . . . it’s a long story.”

Kachka found her sister standing next to a large table in the middle of a big hall. She had her hands against the wood and was leaning on it.

“You need to get some sleep,” she told Elina in their own language, now that they were alone.

“I’m fine.”

“After what that old witch did to us? And you’re still healing. You need to rest.”

“Stop babying me, Kachka.”

“Caring for you is babying you? And have you not done the same for me when I was wounded? Why should you be so different?” Her sister didn’t answer, so Kachka put her arm around Elina’s shoulders and leaned in close. “What is it, Elina? You weren’t this worried when we were back at the old hag’s cave. But now—”

Before Elina could answer—and it did seem she was about to—a voice coming from the back of the hall boomed, “Elina! You’ve returned! And so quickly!”

The sisters turned and Kachka watched a woman walk toward them. She was tall like Kachka and wore a sleeveless chain-mail shirt that revealed big shoulders, lots of scars, and strange markings etched into the skin of her forearms. A warrior, but the likes of which Kachka had never seen before. Perhaps another Cadwaladr like Celyn.

“I’m so glad you’re back,” the woman went on, her gaze focused on a leather thong she was attempting to tie around her wrist with only one hand. “How did it go with . . . ?”

The woman’s words trailed off and her footsteps slowed when she saw Elina’s bandaged face.

“My gods, what happened?”

“Queen Ann—”

“Don’t call me queen.” The woman took a breath. “I don’t need titles. Just tell me what happened.”