Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(135)

“I’m going back to my mate,” he finally told Celyn. “You go to your father. Last I heard, my grandson Var is with him. Make sure he’s safe.”

Celyn nodded, unleashed his wings, and was gone.

Alone, Bercelak looked down at Aberthol’s body. The cult had turned a guard closest to the ruling powers of this land, but they hadn’t ordered him to kill Rhiannon. Probably knew they couldn’t. As protected as Rhiannon was, she was also bloody dangerous on her own.

But this cult . . . they’d gone after Bercelak instead, not bothering with Rhiannon because they were thinking about long-term and long-lasting damage.

The realization worried Bercelak more than if they’d tried for Rhiannon and Annwyl. Because now he understood what Fearghus had been trying to tell him for years.

That whatever was about to happen with these zealots . . . it might just tear their world apart.

The soldier, a man Frederik didn’t recognize, snarled at him.

“Little bastard,” he muttered before yanking that blade from the ground and charging him.

Frederik started to jog backward, but then realized he had nowhere to go. He wasn’t armed, which would just make him a running target that wasn’t nearly as fast as he probably should be with all those days in the library now catching up with him.

So Frederik didn’t move. He stood his ground and let the soldier run right at him, the blade held high to impale Frederik in the face.

But as the soldier neared him, Frederik pulled his eating dagger from the belt at his waist, and dropped into a crouch, then brought the dagger in and up, burying it inside the soldier’s thigh.

With a scream, the soldier went down and Frederik quickly stood to his full height, the bloody blade in his grip, as he heard someone cutting through the trees toward him. He yanked the blade out of the dying soldier’s hand, but he quickly let out a relieved sigh when he saw Izzy and Éibhear.

“Thank all reason,” he said, panting.

“Are you all right?” Izzy asked, her hand on his shoulder.

Frederik briefly watched Éibhear continue to run right by him. “He tried to kill me,” he said of the soldier bleeding out on the ground.

“I know him,” Izzy said, appearing shocked. “He was once in my platoon.”

“Where’s Éibhear going?” Frederik asked.

Izzy’s eyes grew wide. “Fuck. Dagmar.”

Arlais pointed her finger in Dagmar’s face. “I’m telling Daddy!”

“You do that! In fact, let’s go find him right now and I’ll tell him myself!”

Dagmar started to push her chair back, but Adda suddenly brought her big dog head over and gripped Dagmar’s forearm between her jaws.

Arlais’s eyes widened in panic and she yelled out, “Adda, no!”

But the dog ignored Arlais and suddenly scrambled back with Dagmar’s arm still caught in her mouth. Afraid the dog would rip it to shreds, Dagmar allowed herself to be dragged out of the chair, across the floor on her knees, and toward the door, where Adda released her, turning her focus on the desk she’d just pulled Dagmar away from.

That’s when Dagmar saw that her assistant of the last eight years had buried a ceremonial dagger right where Dagmar had been sitting.

Mabsant looked up, his face an angry snarl. “I should have killed that dog weeks ago,” he growled out.

He yanked the knife from the chair as Adda charged him.

“Arlais!” Dagmar screamed. “Run!”

Arlais ran to the door, but it wouldn’t open. The key broken off in the lock.

“Help us!” Arlais screamed as she pounded on the door. “Get us out of here!” Dagmar heard someone trying to get in from the other side, bodies ramming into the thick wood.

Adda wrapped her jaws around Mabsant’s throat and bit down, but the bastard managed to ram his blade into the dog’s chest and inner thighs.

“No!” Dagmar screamed, getting to her feet.

Arlais ran back to her side, her small arms around Dagmar’s waist as Mabsant tossed Adda aside.

The dog had done great damage, but Mabsant was still coming for Dagmar, his bloody dagger raised high.

Dagmar pushed Arlais behind her and yanked her own eating dagger out of the small belt around her waist.

But both of them stopped as they heard a strange hissing noise from the back of the study. They looked over and smoke curled from the bookshelves.

Dagmar assumed it was dragons about to tear down the walls. But then her youngest five girls were standing there, their heads low, their gold eyes locked on Mabsant.

“Abominationsssss,” he hissed hysterically. “You all need to—”

They flew at him. Literally. No wings. But their bodies were off the ground and they were on Mabsant in seconds. Fangs tearing into his flesh as they slammed him to the floor.

His ceremonial blade flipped from his hand and landed at Dagmar’s feet. She thought nothing of it, until Arlais picked it up.

“Arlais, no!”

Rhiannon swung her forearms wildly.

Ghleanna stepped back. “What are you doing?”

“It’s like gnats!” she complained even as she knew Ghleanna, with her very non-magickal self, would never understand. “All that buzzing around me. It’s annoying!”

“You’re starting to sound as crazy as Annwyl.”