The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(68)

The child toyed with Rhiannon’s white hair as she liked to do when her grandmother held her.

“Probably not.”

“Probably not?” Rhiannon asked. “So there’s a chance . . . ?”

“Auntie Annwyl wil have to get back what means the most to him.” The girl’s face turned painful y sad. “But she’l have to get it from the bad one.

The bad one won’t give it to her.”

“And what means most to the monster?”

“The same thing that means most to Talwyn and Talan. If Auntie Annwyl remembers that, she’l know what to do.” Rhian sighed and looked her grandmother in the eye. “When can I have pretty necklaces and bracelets?”

“When I’m sure you won’t turn into your Aunt Keita.”

The girl final y smiled. “Auntie Keita’s funny.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Rhiannon hugged her granddaughter tight while her mind raced with how to get Annwyl a message. Any attempts she’d made to contact either Annwyl or the others in the west, and her offspring in Euphrasia Val ey had been fruitless. She’d been blocked. Her! A white Dragonwitch! Damn gods and their damn meddling. And she knew it was the gods because only they could stop her from anything. But there might stil be a way. Of course she’d need—

“Take my hand,” her granddaughter told her.

“Um . . . can we play later, baby? I need to—”

“Take my hand. We can contact Auntie Annwyl together.”

“No, I . . . we’ve been unable . . .”

Rhian held her hand out. “We can do it together,” she said again. “But soon. I’ve got to finish Daddy’s drawing.”

“You real y can help me contact your Auntie Annwyl, can’t you, Rhian?”

“Yes.”

“How do you know how to do that?”

She shrugged. “I just know.”

Not sure what was going on, but only able to deal with one major crisis at a time, Rhiannon took her granddaughter’s hand. “Let’s do this together, but I’l do al the talking. I don’t want you in your Auntie Annwyl’s head. Ever.” Sadly, Vigholf and Rhona decided to let the horses go. The terrain of the mountains was so rocky and the group would have to be able to take cover so quickly, they didn’t want to risk the horses’ safety or their own.

Although, at first, Vigholf began to believe this was a bad idea on their part. What with al the walking. For miles. And the gods knew they had many more miles to go. This Rebel King whom Annwyl wanted to find was located clear on the other side of the Provinces. The Provinces they hadn’t even reached yet. How Annwyl expected to get to where she needed to go in a timely manner, none of them knew. But the queen seemed fixed on her objective. No matter how much Rhona tried to tel her gently this was not a good idea, the queen didn’t want to hear it. She didn’t want to hear anything, which explained why the normal y chatty Izzy and Branwen mostly kept silent.

They final y took a break the next afternoon by a stream. Food was retrieved from travel bags and water replenished from the stream. Each of them sat on smal boulders or overturned tree stumps.

“It could be worse,” Vigholf softly murmured into Rhona’s ear. “It could be summertime. So miserably hot.” Izzy dug into her pack and pul ed out several pieces of fruit, which she offered to everyone. Annwyl declined with a shake of her head, Branwen took two, Vigholf took one, and Rhona declined with a flat, “No.”

With a shrug, Izzy returned to her stump and began to eat. While she did, she asked Rhona, “So how’s my father?” When Rhona didn’t answer, Vigholf replied, “Rude.”

“So he’s fine then?”

They both chuckled.

“And how’s the war in the north? Going wel ?”

“Rough, I’m afraid. Those Irons . . .”

Vigholf shook his head and Izzy said, “They just keep coming.”

“That’s it. How are there so bloody many of them?”

“We’ve thought the same thing. Right, Brannie? Because they do just keep coming.” She ate some more fruit, then added, “But you know, I have to say, the way their army works . . .”

“I know,” Vigholf immediately agreed.

“. . . their organization, their discipline. And they’re so bloody ruthless.”

“You admire them,” Rhona observed, watching Izzy closely. Maybe too closely.

“How could you not? There are things they do in their ranks that we could start doing. Changes we could make that would help us in the long run.”

“Stil planning to be general one day, Iseabail?” Rhona asked and Vigholf definitely heard a sneer in that even if Izzy didn’t.

Izzy shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I? I have as much chance as anyone. But I know it’l take hard work.” Then she grinned and added, “Discipline.

Organization.”

They al laughed except Rhona, who continued eating and scowling.

Izzy offered Vigholf bread. “So you were at Garbhán Isle. How’s my mother? Rhian?”

“They’re fine and Rhian is adorable.”

“I can’t wait to see her. She’s probably so big now.”

“I think she’l be tal . Maybe not as tal as the twins, though. They’re growing like vines.” That’s when Rhona asked Izzy, “Aren’t you going to ask about Éibhear and Celyn?” Both Vigholf and Branwen cringed at that question, but Izzy only shrugged again. “Should I ask?” Rhona sniffed in disgust—a sound Vigholf was wel acquainted with—and went back to eating her dried beef.