Light My Fire (Dragon Kin #7)(15)

“Where are they going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who are they going to?”

“I don’t know.”

Talaith crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”

“I know they’re safe,” Rhiannon insisted.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because they told me they are and I trust them.”

“Trust them?” Talaith briefly closed her eyes and shook her head. “Why the hells would you do that?”

“Because they’re my grandchildren. That’s why.”

“You don’t want us to tell Fearghus and Briec,” Dagmar guessed.

“We can’t. They simply won’t understand.”

“And Bercelak?”

“I don’t hide anything from my Bercelak.”

Celyn laughed at that, and Rhiannon glared at him.

He cleared his throat, nodded. “Sorry, my queen.”

When Rhiannon returned her focus to her sons’ mates, Celyn looked at his sister and they silently laughed.

“He has complete faith in his granddaughters on this,” Rhiannon told the women. “And he’ll follow my lead.”

Annwyl sat up a bit. “He has faith in his granddaughters? What about his grandson?”

“The one he keeps accidentally calling Gwenvael? I don’t think there’s hope there, dear. I’d let it go.”

“Éibhear knows,” Izzy reminded them.

“He won’t say a word,” Rhiannon immediately replied. “He contacted me as soon as he saw Rhi escape through that portal, and I told him then to keep his mouth shut.”

“Escape?” Dagmar asked.

“I’m sorry, what was that, dear?”

“You said as soon as he saw Rhi escape through that portal. She was escaping the Nolwenns? Is that what you’re telling us? Are they all escaping?”

“You ask too many questions,” the queen accused Dagmar.

“No. I’m certain I ask just the right amount.”

“What is happening, Rhiannon?” Talaith snapped.

“All you need to know is that the children—of their own free will—are on the move to a safer place.”

“Safer place? Safer than here?” Annwyl asked.

“Much safer. They’ll be hidden until they’re ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“Only the gods can answer that, and I am no god. Besides, we have more important things to do.”

“What things?”

Celyn stumbled forward when the door he rested against was shoved, the wood pulled from the hinges. He looked at his sister and together, they rammed their bodies backward, shoving the door closed again.

“Ow! You rude bastards!” Gwenvael yelped from the other side.

Rhiannon pointed a finger at the human women. “Not a word,” she whispered to them. “We’ll talk more later.”

Rhiannon nodded at Celyn. “Let them in.”

Celyn and his sister stepped back, and Celyn removed the now-damaged door and set it aside. Fearghus, Briec, Gwenvael, Éibhear, and their father, Bercelak, walked in.

“What’s going on?” Fearghus demanded.

Rhiannon opened her mouth to make up some lie that Fearghus would never believe in an eon, but Annwyl cut her off by giving a casual shrug and stating, “I took a few heads this morning, and Dagmar is being completely irrational about it.”

“Yes,” Dagmar said drily. “Because I’m known for being so irrational when you do something so incredibly stupid.”

“See?” Briec said, triumphant. “Even the devious human knows what you did was stupid.”

“My sweet Dagmar is not devious,” Gwenvael happily corrected. “She’s conniving and cold-blooded in a way that I adore like the suns.”

Dagmar grinned. “Thank you for that, my love.”

“You’re so very welcome, my sweet.”

Fearghus walked past his brother and, as he did, he grabbed him by his ridiculously long hair and threw him backward, sending him flying through the now permanently open doorway.

“You heartless bastard!”

Fearghus brushed the back of his hand against Annwyl’s cheek. “Want to tell me what happened?”

“The meeting with Baron Pyrs was a setup. Priestess Abertha was there, waiting to talk to me as she put it. But really, all she wanted to do was piss me off so much that I cut her nasty little head from her nasty little body.”

“But you didn’t?”

Annwyl held Fearghus’s left hand in her own, her fingers tracing the scars and veins on the back. “I knew that’s what she wanted. You know how I hate giving anyone what they want.”

“She wanted you to kill her?” Bercelak asked.

“She wanted to be a martyr to her god. I kill her and everyone turns on me. I wasn’t going to give her that. And I only killed her soldiers because they wouldn’t let me leave.”

Dagmar patted Annwyl’s shoulder. “That’s very good, Annwyl. You handled that situation well.”

Eyes narrowed, Annwyl snarled, “I’m not one of your dogs, Dagmar.”