The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(41)

At least she hoped it was the last few. She looked around the tent she’d cal ed home for five years now and searched for anything she might be leaving behind. She could be forgetful that way. Especial y when she was under a lot of stress. And since Annwyl had decided to go off on her own, Morfyd had been nothing but stressed.

She heard the tent flap pul back and she said to her apprentice, “Lol y, are you sure I have everything?”

“Cousin.”

Morfyd looked up and blinked in surprise. “Rhona?” She went to her cousin, who, like Morfyd, was in human form and dressed. She hugged her.

“Gods. What are you doing here?”

“Your mother sent me.” Her cousin frowned. “Didn’t she tel you?”

“No, al I knew was that she was sending help.”

Of course Morfyd thought the help would be more like Ren or one of her mother’s apprentices. Not . . .

Oh, hel s. Did it matter? At this point, did anything matter but getting that damn female back where she belonged? With her bloody troops!

Morfyd went to the middle of the tent, raised her hand, and unleashed a smal spel that would seal the area around the tent with a barrier, giving them some privacy for a few minutes. That’s when she heard a smal roar and a “Gods-dammit!” from outside her tent. Her cousin cleared her throat and smirked. It was nearly a smile.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not alone. But you’ve just entertained me greatly.”

Morfyd released the spel and a few seconds later, a purple-haired dragon in human form stumbled into her tent. A Lightning, rubbing his big Lightning head.

“You could have told her I was out there,” he accused Rhona.

“I could have.... Didn’t though, did I?”

“Viperous . . .” He gritted his teeth and nodded at Morfyd. “My lady.”

It took Morfyd a moment, but then she asked, “Vigholf?” It was hard to tel with his hair grown back—the hair he’d lost to Annwyl’s sword. Annwyl, as usual, had attacked first upon seeing the Lightnings on her territory. By the time she was done, Vigholf had lost his hair—luckily not his head—

and his cousin Meinhard had a broken leg. In fact, Annwyl stil had the Lightning’s hair sprouting from the top of her battle helm.

Morfyd looked to her cousin. “Why is he here?”

“Because I apparently can’t do anything on my own.”

“I didn’t say that. When did I say that? ”

“Do not screech at me.”

“I do not screech!”

Morfyd held up her hand. “Stop it. Both of you.” She put the spel that would protect them from the outside world back in place. “Let’s try this again, shal we?” She pointed at Rhona. “You’re here to help me with my problem. Yes?”

“Aye.”

“And you”—she pointed at Vigholf—“you’re here to . . .”

“Help her help you with your problem.”

Morfyd flapped her hands impatiently. “Oh, whatever. Whatever way you two want to do this is fine by me. But I need you to get Annwyl. Even now her army asks where the hel s she is.”

“They can’t function without her?” Rhona asked, appearing a tad disgusted at Annwyl’s troops.

“Of course they can. But if fighting the Sovereigns these past years has proven one thing it’s that if we want to win, Annwyl needs to lead them into battle.” Morfyd began to pace. Something she’d done a lot of lately. “Not only that, but if her troops arrive in Euphrasia Val ey without Annwyl, my brother wil leave my mother’s troops to go looking for her. Fol owed by Briec and Ghleanna once they find their daughters have gone with Annwyl. I don’t know how to explain it any better,” she told them. “I just need Annwyl back and—” Rhona stepped in front of her, took Morfyd’s hands in her own. Morfyd hadn’t even realized she’d been wringing them.

“Listen wel to me, cousin. I’ve been given my orders. Find Annwyl. Bring her back. And that is exactly what I plan to do. Even if that means razing the entire Provinces and leaving no Sovereign or Iron alive. That’s what I’l do.” And gods, Morfyd knew the truth of that. Give this She-dragon an order and she fol owed it like her very life depended on it—and gods protect those who dare step in her path.

The pretty witch suddenly wrapped her arms around her kin, giving her a desperate hug. What no one wanted to say out loud, but Vigholf knew the truth of, was that they didn’t need Annwyl back to lead her troops. Instead, what they needed was not to have the remains of a crucified Annwyl lobbed at her armies. Nothing ruined morale more than having the head of your leader tossed at you.

“It’l be al right,” Rhona soothed, rubbing her cousin’s back. “I promise. I’l find her.”

“When wil you leave?” Morfyd asked, pul ing away from her kin.

“Now.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Can you afford to spare anything?”

Morfyd shook her head. “Not real y. The troops took the bulk of our remaining supplies for the trip.”

“Then we’l get what we need on the road. Now what I need to know from you, cousin, is where you think Annwyl went.” Morfyd eased farther away from Rhona, eyes downcast. “Uh . . .”