The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(110)

Izzy let out a sigh and asked the male she’d sat down next to, “Are you going to stay out here al night—looking maudlin?”

“I’m not in the mood for a feast,” Éibhear told her. He was polite, but she could hear from the way he clipped his words, he’d rather not be. “But don’t let me stop you from returning to the party, Izzy.”

“You going to hate me forever?”

“I don’t hate you at al . Or Celyn,” he said before she could ask.

“So it’s just yourself you hate then?”

“I don’t hate myself. I’m a Southland dragon and a prince of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar—I don’t think I’m physical y capable of hating myself.” And Izzy had to look off so he couldn’t see her smile. “But if you’re asking me if I’m disappointed in myself and crushed at the loss of a good friend . . . then sure. Why not?”

Sure? Why not?

Frowning, Izzy said, “I’m so sorry about Austel .” She’d only met the red dragon once, but he’d been very sweet. Besides, no one should die on the end of a stake. “But it’s the risk we al take as soldiers. He knew that. You can’t blame yourself—”

“Please go.”

And she felt the coldly stated words like a knife to her chest, cutting through flesh and muscle and bone, right into her heart. But she didn’t argue, simply stood.

She brushed off the back of her dress. “I’m sorry, Éibhear.”

“For what?”

“That you lost a friend. That you feel such pain for it.” Izzy let out a breath. “And I’m sorry that you found out about me and Celyn.” His soft laugh was bitter, cold silver eyes looking up at her. “Real y?” he asked. “That’s what you feel sorry for?”

“Aye. I’d never intended to tel you or anyone because what happened between me and Celyn was between us.”

“Do you real y think he would have kept that quiet? Do you real y think he wouldn’t have eventual y told me on his own? That what you had between you was so desperately precious?”

“That’s between him and you and, to be honest, not my problem. But I never wanted you to be hurt by—”

“I’m not hurt,” Éibhear said, slowly getting to his feet. She was tal , but he absolutely towered over her when so few did. “In fact,” he shrugged. “I don’t feel anything. About you. About Celyn. Not even about Austel . Not anymore.”

“Then I feel sorry for you because no one should go through life like that.”

“Right. I should stumble along instead, feeling nothing but pain for everyone. Like a walking open wound. That does sound like fun.”

“With the bad comes the good, Éibhear.”

“You’re amazing,” he said, shaking his head. “After al that you’ve been through, al that you’ve seen and lost. Everything that you’ve kil ed. With what the gods did to your mother and Annwyl—to you. Marking you like chattel,” he said, gesturing to her shoulder, where the mark of the god Rhydderch Hael had been branded into her flesh so many years ago. “After al that, you can stil walk around talking about feelings? About caring for others’ pain?” He laughed and it was like having knives thrown at her. “That’s quite . . . astounding.” And with that, Éibhear the Blue headed off down the hil , away from the castle and his kin. Izzy had the feeling he wouldn’t be back. That he was going to try to catch up with Meinhard so he could start his new life in the Northlands, away from everyone and everything that he’d known.

And she knew she was right when he said, as he disappeared into the darkness, “Good-bye, Izzy. And good luck.” After he was gone, she stood there until Brannie came up behind her and stood next to her.

“You al right?” her cousin asked.

“Wel enough.”

“I wouldn’t let what he said bother you, Iz. He’s just—”

“Is it supposed to be this bad?” Izzy asked about the change every young dragon was supposed to go through as they got older. “Honestly?” Brannie shook her head. “When Fal went through it, I mean we al do, but he mostly just whined about the misery of his soul and read dark poetry.

The pub girls loved it. But he was never this . . .”

“Empty?”

“Wel . . . I was going to say bitter, but you always were more dramatic than me.” Brannie tugged on the dress Keita had chosen for Izzy. It was a very dark blue and it sparkled. “Do you want to go for a walk, Iz? So we can talk?” Izzy briefly closed her eyes, let out a breath. “Brannie, my friend, my cousin, the last thing I want to do is talk. I want ale, and I want to dance, and I want to forget that Éibhear the Miserable ever existed.”

Brannie put her arm around Izzy’s shoulders and steered her back down the hil and toward the castle. “I can help you with those first two, dead easy. But you’re on your own with that last one.”

“Yeah,” Izzy sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

A week after the feast ended, about one hundred leagues from Garbhán Isle, Rhona sat by the lake as human, trying to see over her shoulder at the mark that Vigholf had branded her with, Claiming her.

Unlike her own kind, he’d used lightning to brand her with that mark and she’d never say it out loud, but . . . ow!