What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(58)

“You’re a dragon.”

“I am. I’m Branwen the Black.”

And based on that wound on her face and the other bruises and scratches, Branwen the Black had been in battle.

Izzy hated her.

“I’m Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith.” The most difficult, uncaring, unfeeling mother in the world!

The girl stepped closer, not realizing how jealous Izzy was of her at this very moment. If Izzy had a temper like Annwyl’s she would have hit her by now. Oh, if only she had a temper like Annwyl’s!

“So why do you cry?” she asked.

Izzy swallowed back her tears and anger. “My mum.” She swallowed again, almost losing that battle to her tears. “She won’t let me go off to combat with the rest of my comrades.”

“How old are you?”

Izzy glared. “How old are you?” she shot back.

“Eighty-three.”

“Oh.” Damn.

Then Branwen grinned. “But for dragons that makes me about your age, I reckon. And me mum gives me such a hard time. She acts like I’m still a hatchling. She won’t let me go into any battles by myself. I always have to be by her side. My brother’s not yet a hundred and he gets to go into battle by himself. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not! But they never see that, do they?”

“No, they don’t. Becomes a real pain in the arse, doesn’t it?”

Izzy finally smiled. “It does.”

Branwen looked Izzy up and down.

“So you done crying now, Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith? Because I must tell you that from experience, tears never work with the mothers. Only the fathers. So why bother?”

Now Izzy grinned. She simply couldn’t hate Branwen. “You’re right. Why bother? And everyone calls me Izzy.”

“All right then, Izzy.”

“Oy!” a voice called from a distance behind them. “Branwen! Where are you, you dizzy cow?”

Branwen sighed. “That’s me idiot brother and me cousins.” She tugged Izzy’s arm and together they began to walk. “So what does your father say about you going off to war?”

“He fought on my behalf. I know he did. But if he can’t convince my mum … no one can.” Feeling comfortable, she added, “My father is Briec the Mighty, by the way. Not my blood father, but … you understand. My mum’s his mate.”

“Briec?” Branwen stopped and looked at her, her dark eyes wide. “You’re Briec’s daughter?”

Her sudden eagerness surprised Izzy a bit. Although Briec’s brothers and sisters had been welcoming, the other dragons—“the idiot royals,” as her grandfather would always mutter—had been tolerant of her, but she could easily tell they didn’t consider her anything but another human and a possible meal.

“Aye,” she said with a bit of confidence. “I am.”

Branwen slapped Izzy’s arm and Izzy grunted in pain. “Well then, you sobbing cow, you’re me cousin!”

Izzy blinked. “I am?”

“Aye! I’m a Cadwaladr. Briec’s cousin. Me mum is your grandfather’s sister. Which makes us second cousins … I think. Anyway, we’re kin. Ya know? Family.”

“All right then.” Izzy couldn’t ignore Branwen’s eagerness. She seemed so happy to know her.

“This is brilliant! Changes everything.”

“It does?”

Branwen threw her arm around Izzy’s shoulders. “Tell me, cousin, have you ever played Run and Jump?”

“No.”

“Well as your older cousin, it’s my right to teach it to you. That’s the beauty of blood relations.”

“Will it upset my mother?”

“Beyond comprehension, I’d wager.”

Izzy didn’t even hesitate. “Then lead the way, cousin.”

He could smell incense and herbs, fresh vegetables, and what smelled deliciously like stew.

Gwenvael slowly looked around him, confused about where he was and yet for some strange reason recognizing this place. It was a house. He’d dreamt about it long ago, yet he knew he’d never been here.

Maybe he wasn’t awake after all. He couldn’t really tell at the moment. He closed his eyes, but he caught those scents again. And, above them all, he scented her. His nostrils flared and his eyes opened again, his gaze searching her out. She was sitting at a small eating table beside the pit fire built into the wall. She had a metal cup in front of her and her head in her hands. Her head scarf and spectacles lay on the table, and her satchel was at her feet.

Seeing her there, alive and well, did more for him than anything else could.

Her head lifted from her hands and she turned in his direction. He smiled at her, but she didn’t smile back. Instead she lowered her head and squinted at him.

“If you can’t see me, you lazy sow, put your bloody spectacles on.”

Her back straightened and she glared. “I see you perfectly, which is barely at all.”

“You’re keeping me waiting?”

“Until the end of time.”

Gwenvael stuck his lower lip out, shuddered a bit. “But I’m in such pain.”

“By all reason, have you no shame?”