What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(19)

“We have a problem.”

Briec glanced up from the book he was reading and into the face of Brastias, general of Annwyl’s armies and one of the few male humans Briec could tolerate.

Closing his book, he asked, “What did Gwenvael do now? Do I need to contact my mother? Are we already in war, or is it simply heading our way?”

Brastias, whose scarred face looked grim at the best of times, smiled. “Any time I start a conversation that way, all of you ask me the same questions.”

“My brother starts trouble the way horses shit when they walk. And we all know that.”

“It’s nothing like that, I’m afraid. And you might prefer that it were a problem with Gwenvael instead.”

“What’s wrong?”

“You need to see. Telling you will reveal nothing.”

Brastias led him out to the training fields. As Annwyl’s armies had grown, so had the multiple areas used specifically for training. The one Brastias took him to was the one they used for the new trainees. Briec’s daughter was one of those trainees. She spent most days with her training unit, but came and went from the castle as she felt the need. And although her mother—his dear, sweet, quiet Talaith—waited impatiently for Izzy to lose all interest in being a warrior, Briec feared that day would never come, for Izzy talked and dreamed constantly of being in battle, of being a warrior.

Yet every time Briec saw his Izzy she had a new bruise or cut or some part of her was swollen to twice its normal size. When she did join them all for dinner, she’d come in with a scowl that could terrify the gods, limping or with her arm in a splint or bandages wrapped around a nasty head wound. While eating she’d fall asleep at the table, and Talaith and Briec would take her to her room so she could sleep in her own bed. By morning she was gone, back out with her unit for more training, more bruises, more pain.

To say it drove his Talaith mad would be a grave understatement. For sixteen years she’d done all she could to protect a daughter she’d never held in her arms. Izzy had been brutally taken from her by those who worshipped a goddess hell-bent on revenge. They’d used Izzy’s life as the yoke that kept Talaith in line, training her to one day kill on order. When mother and daughter finally met, all was wonderful. Until Izzy decided she wanted to be part of Annwyl’s army. After so many years of trying to protect her daughter, of doing things she’d never be proud of to keep her daughter safe, Talaith now had to worry her precious and only child would be killed on the battlefield. It was a concern any parent of warriors might have, but Talaith simply refused to accept that this was what Izzy wanted. At least for now.

Talaith clung to the hope that Izzy, who had a tendency to walk into walls or trip over her own large feet, would bore of this like she seemed to bore of most things. And although he’d never admit it out loud, part of him hoped the same thing. Izzy may not be his by blood, but she was his daughter in every other way. He didn’t want to see her harmed or put at risk any more than her mother did. In truth, Talaith and Izzy were the few beings he had any tolerance for. Even when they annoyed him, it never entered his head to blast them with flame—and dust the remaining ashes from his life. There were few about whom he could say the same.

Briec leaned against the wood fence surrounding the arena, briefly regarding the other army officers and some of Annwyl’s Elite Guard standing around with him. “Now what?”

Brastias rested his arms against the top of the fence and let out a sigh before he began. “When we took Izzy in, it was with the understanding that if she failed, she’d have to go. Not only for her safety, but for the safety of those in battle with her.”

“Of course. I’ll not have my daughter in danger because she has some pipe dream of being a warrior.”

“Aye,” Brastias mumbled. “Pipe dream.”

Briec flinched a bit. “How bad is she?”

“You need to see.”

Brastias motioned to one of the trainers and that man called out, “Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith, come forward and fight!”

Briec could see where this was going. Brastias, weak human that he was, wanted Briec to be the one to break the news to Izzy that she still had much more training to do before she moved to the next level. Not good, because his daughter had little patience for the normal way of things and she wanted to be a soldier in Annwyl’s army now.

Izzy stepped into the training area. She had more bruises on her face, and her lip had been split open. But none of that took away from the beauty she’d gotten from her mother. Although at only seventeen winters she was still all legs, having not really filled out yet. And she was still getting taller. Right now, she was as tall as Annwyl, able to look the six-foot-tall human queen directly in the eye. But in a few more years, Izzy would blossom, rounding out a bit to resemble her mother even more only with light brown eyes and lighter brown hair.

Already, though, the unworthy local boys had been looking closely at Briec’s daughter. A little too closely. And those who had tried to move past mere looking, Briec, Fearghus, and Gwenvael took great delight in slapping around until they learned that anything but looking at his daughter could get a man killed.

Weighed down with a short sword and the full-length metal shields Annwyl’s army favored for close in battles, Izzy glanced around the arena. She wasn’t looking for anyone, he’d guess, but her mind had wandered. Izzy’s mind wandered a lot, it seemed.