The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(67)

“I’l not think less of you if you return to your comrades in the Val ey. But I’m going to finish this . . . with or without you.” Annwyl stepped between them and began to walk off. That’s when Vigholf said, “The Western Tribesmen are attacking Garbhán Isle, Annwyl.

Where your children are.”

The queen stopped in her tracks, her body one rigid line of tense muscle. But she took several breaths and said, “With or without you, I’m going.” To Rhona’s shock, the queen headed off into the forests, heading farther into the west. Rhona never thought Annwyl would leave her children to the whim of fate with Tribesmen at her door. But she was leaving them and, without question, Iseabail and Branwen fol owed her. Rhona didn’t bother to cal her cousin back. She knew Brannie’s decision had been made. For whatever reason, she’d fol ow this mad queen on her insane quest, and there was nothing Rhona could do about it.

Wel . . . there was one thing.

“You’re going with her,” Vigholf said. “I can see it on your face.”

“What else can I do?”

“We could go back. Back to the Val ey. Back to the war. Even death in battle is better than this insanity.”

“I can’t go back. She has my cousin. She has Briec’s daughter.” She put her hand on Vigholf’s forearm. “But you can go back. Tel them what happened, tel them—”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Vigholf—”

“I’m not leaving you. Not with her.”

“Then you’re a fool.” She glanced over at the queen as she marched into the forest. “We’re not coming back from this, Vigholf.”

“Wel , not if you’re going to be so negative.”

Despite everything, she laughed a little. “What?”

“Think positive. You never know. We could survive. And then what wil you do with me? Keep me is what you’l do.” He winked at her and fol owed after the others, whistling for the horses they’d left on the hil .

Rhona took another look around the camp, her eyes resting on the mangled commander’s remains.

Stil disgusted by al that—Rhona had never been one for torture—she fol owed after the Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle and prayed that when her time came, it wouldn’t be anything like this human commander’s.

She’d hate to meet her Cadwaladr ancestors missing her leg and fingers. They’d mock her for eternity over that.

Chapter 24

Rhiannon stood on the castle wal s and stared out over her territory. True, she al owed the humans to believe this was their territory too, but it actual y was al hers. So the fact that these Tribesmen had invaded annoyed her. The fact that Annwyl wasn’t here to pound these barbarians into the dirt as she’d been doing for years, much to Rhiannon’s enjoyment, annoyed her even more.

And the Tribesmen were . . . slippery. Disappearing into the forests until they were ready to attack again. They must worship those nature-loving gods.

Even Bercelak with a squad of Dragonwarriors had been unable to find the bastards, although they’d been attacked many times with arrows. So it looked as if they’d have to wait until the Tribesmen struck the castle again, when they were out in the open, before Rhiannon’s warriors could real y do some damage.

Wel , it could al be worse.

Rhiannon felt a tug on the skirt of her gown and she looked down to see her granddaughter Rhianwen standing there. Honestly! A brigade of Kyvich, a battalion of guards, a centaur, and dragons and absolutely no one could keep their eye on one smal child?

“My sweet girl. What are you doing?” Rhiannon crouched in front of her grandchild. “Why are you up here? It’s too dangerous for you to be up here.”

“But it’s begun,” the little girl told her.

“What has?”

“The siege. Where Daddy is.” Smal hands reached for her, and Rhiannon pul ed her granddaughter in close.

“What happened, Rhian?”

“Daddy’s hurt,” she whispered. “They can’t help him.”

“Are . . .” Rhiannon fought to hold back panic, devastated tears. She wanted to believe the child merely had a bad dream—a nightmare. But Rhiannon knew that the girl had seen. “Are you sure, luv?”

She nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Is it very bad?”

“Yes. It’s very bad.” She held up a piece of parchment that she’d drawn on. “But I’m drawing this to help him.” Rhiannon forced a smile. “It’s very pretty. I’m sure he’l love it.”

“Don’t tel Mommy about Daddy. She’l be upset.”

“I won’t.” Rhiannon kissed the child’s forehead, concern for her son nearly kil ing her. “Now I don’t want you to worry about anything,” she told the child. “This wil al work out.”

“Only if the monster helps.”

“Monster?” Rhiannon asked. “What monster?”

“The angry one. The bad people hurt him. So he hates everybody now. He only has one eye. An angry one eye. Maybe Auntie Keita can send him eye patches to cheer him up.”

Good gods, the child spoke of the Rebel King. But how...

“Wil the monster help?” she asked her granddaughter.