“Or spend your time with that hunk of Cadwaladr meat.”
“Oh. Uh . . . yeah, uh . . .”
“Look!” Ffraid crowed. “She’s blushing!”
“I am not!” Braith shot back.
“You are! It’s so cute!”
“I am not cute!”
“Of course you’re not, luv,” Caron told her. “You’re a Penarddun. No one will call us beautiful or heart-stopping—”
“Oh, no,” Ffraid cut in. “They do call Penardduns heart stoppers.”
When her cousins said nothing, “Get it?”
That’s when they started laughing at a confused Ffraid. “What?” she asked. “Wait. Are you laughing at me or at my joke? Because my joke is quite witty.”
Fed up with sitting around, feeling miserable and still cranky, Addolgar threw his legs over the side of the bed.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Owena asked as she walked into the chamber with another jug of that cursed ale.
“I’m getting up. I can’t sit around, doing nothing—”
“That’s exactly what you’re going to do until that leg heals.”
Addolgar stood up, felt pain shoot through his leg and right into his back, making his head hurt even more. He ignored it. “My leg’s healed enough,” he lied.
Owena sighed and stepped back. “Oy!” she called out. “The Mountain is trying to walk on that leg.”
Addolgar stopped, focused on Owena. “The Mountain?”
“What do you want us to call you?”
“By my name?”
“Eh,” Owena said, sounding just like her niece.
Three more of Braith’s aunts walked into the chamber.
“What’s going on?” Crystin asked.
“I think he’s trying to leave,” Owena answered.
“Where are you trying to go, Mountain?”
“Stop calling me Mountain. We have to find Emyr. If you hadn’t realized, your niece’s life depends on returning him to the Queen.”
“Oh, for the sake of the gods,” Crystin sighed out. “This is already being handled.”
Addolgar, now hopping around on one leg trying to reach his travel bags and the human clothes within, asked, “Handled?”
“We have our best trackers hunting down that ponce as we speak. If they can’t bring the idiot back themselves, we’ll do it, kick him around a bit, and then pass him off to your precious Queen to finish him.”
Resting his hands on a wooden chair, Addolgar looked over at the four She-dragons. Like Braith, they were all tall with strong shoulders and necks, powerful legs, and bright eyes, but, he sensed, there was an inherent lack of understanding among them that he hadn’t had to worry about with Braith. She understood things quite clearly. But the She-dragons of the House of Penarddun as a whole . . .
Addolgar just didn’t know. He knew little of royals, but the ones he’d had any dealings with were nothing like these females. The Penardduns had no servants, wore mostly trousers when they were human, and liked to brawl. With each other. True, he really liked that about them, but it still had him very worried.
“The trackers you sent,” he said, “they weren’t your daughters, were they?”
“Of course they were. Our daughters are the best trackers you’ll ever find.”
Addolgar briefly dropped his head. When he was in a better mood, he’d probably handle this with more skill. But he was in pain and cranky.
“You let your daughters go into Northland territory? Horde territory? With Lightnings? The dragons who kidnap our females, cut off one of their wings, and force them to be their mates?”
Owena frowned. “I thought they didn’t do that anymore.”
“Of course they do!” Addolgar bellowed. “They just took Davon the Elegant from her kin’s cave. And you lot sent your defenseless daughters to face them! Alone!”
“Ohhhh,” Crystin said. “So we need big, strong males like you to protect us from big, strong males? Is that it?”
Addolgar wagged a finger at Crystin. “I have sisters, Lady Crystin. And you’ll not trick me with that one.”
Owena walked toward him. “Don’t worry about our daughters, Mountain—”
“Please don’t call me that.”
“—they’ll be just fine. They know how not to be seen. Especially by big, strong males of any species. So you can get back into bed.”
“I’ve made up my mind,” he insisted.
That’s when all four females moved toward him until they surrounded him. Owena pointed at the bed.
“Get over there.”
“No. You can’t make me.”
“Oh, dear boy,” Crystin told him sadly. “Yes. We can.”
Devouring several pieces of bacon she’d snatched from a plate on the table, Braith walked toward the chamber where Addolgar was resting. As she walked, she passed all her aunts and cousins heading in the opposite direction.
“Where are you all off to?” she asked.
“Going into town for a bit. Get a few supplies. Need anything?”
Braith shook her head. “I’m fine. Thanks. Did you check with Addolgar, though?”
Her Aunt Crystin stopped, blinked at her. “Uh-huh. He’s fine.”
“All right,” Braith said around the delicious, chewy bacon in her mouth. She continued on. She wasn’t in the mood for another fight with Addolgar, so she only planned to pass the chamber and glance in to make sure he was sleeping or, at the very least, hadn’t rolled off the bed in a fit of Cadwaladr rage.