“And what are we to consider their attacks on us? On our She-dragons? No, no,” she said, raising her claw, the talons with bits of stone still clinging to them. “The time is perfect.” She looked at Braith again, blue eyes so very cold. “Isn’t it . . . Lady Braith?”
Braith knew what the cow was doing. Understood it quite clearly.
Now, with Emyr dead, Braith knew this would be the last concession she ever made. But she would have to make it. If she wanted to live.
“It is, Your Majesty. It is the right time to strike. To stop whatever my father may have put into motion.”
The Queen relaxed back into her throne. She gestured to the heads on her floor. “Get that trash from my sight. And, Captain Bercelak, we will meet in one hour to discuss how we’ll be moving forward. So have your battle plans ready.”
“I always do, Your Majesty.”
The Queen focused on Braith.
“Welcome home, Lady Braith, and”—the Queen smiled at this last bit—“good job.”
Chapter 20
They landed on the top of Devenallt Mountain, which was now covered with even more Cadwaladrs than Braith had even realized there were in the world, much less in close range of Devenallt.
Pissed, Braith faced Brigida the Foul and her aunts. “What the holy hells was all that?” she demanded.
“What do you think that was?” Crystin asked. “Us covering your ass.”
“And doing a damn fine job of it, if you ask me,” Owena added.
“I didn’t ask you. And what was all that centaur shit about the Olgeirsson Horde? Why are we bringing them into this?”
Crystin shrugged. “I have no idea.”
Braith looked at the White Dragonwitch. “Brigida?”
“Why don’t you mind your own and I’ll mind my own.”
“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“Her Majesty, lazy whore that she is—”
“Brigida!” one of the Cadwaladrs cried out.
“—would let the bloody Lightnings swarm this land if we let her. But we gave her a good solid reason to send some of our troops in there, which—once Bercelak does what he does best—will piss off the rest of the Hordes and we will finally make a stand with those purple-scaled bastards. Or,” she went on, “would you rather just hand over our females to them now, Braith of the Darkness?”
“That wasn’t an option either, but doing this . . . what if Addiena finds out that we never even saw the Olgeirsson Horde?”
“And when do you expect that to happen?” Brigida asked, moving around her to an edge on the packed mountain where she could take off comfortably. “When Olgeir himself actually writes her a letter informing her of this? Because even if the big bastard could write, I don’t think he would bother, which means you’re safe.”
“But—”
“Leave it be, Braith of the Darkness. This no longer has anything to do with you or that idiot father of yours.” Brigida expanded her wings from her body. “Just be glad you get to live another day.”
Brigida stepped off the mountain and her wings caught the air, sending her soaring off.
Braith closed her eyes and let out a breath. She had no idea how she’d lost control of this.
“It’ll be all right,” Addolgar told her, his claw brushing down her shoulder.
“I hope you’re right.”
“Hey, Mountain!” Owena called out, and Braith quickly caught Addolgar’s wrist before he could do something stupid. “We’re hungry.”
Now it was Addolgar’s time to close his eyes and let out a breath. “Of course,” he finally said. “Mum already knows you’re coming.”
As a ridiculously large group, they flew to the area just outside the gates of Ailean’s castle. There, the Cadwaladrs and the Penardduns landed, shifted to human, and put on clothes. The Cadwaladrs, although no longer needing to protect Braith or Ghleanna, had not returned to their own caves or castles because they all wanted to get their chance to hunt and kill Lightnings in the north. So until Bercelak decided which of the Queen’s troops would be coming with him, the Cadwaladrs would be making good use of Ailean’s territory.
The Penardduns, however, had a longer trip back home and invited themselves to stay at the castle for the night. Something Addolgar knew his father wouldn’t mind . . . but Addolgar couldn’t speak for his mother. She just thought they were coming for dinner.
They entered the courtyard and found his mother and father waiting for them on the steps.
Shalin grinned and clapped her hands together when she saw her offspring come through the gates. They always felt her love without her ever saying a word.
Their father, though, was always more . . . chatty.
“We’re so glad you all have your heads!” he announced . . . loudly.
Addolgar stopped at the bottom of the stairs, gazed up at his father. “Gee . . . thanks, Da.”
“Well, what do you want me to say?”
Braith’s aunts pushed past Addolgar and Ghleanna so that they could leer up the stairs at Ailean.
“Ailean,” Crystin called out. “Long time, old friend.”
“Crystin. Owena. Aledwen. Good to see all of you again. As always, the Penarddun She-dragons look beautiful.”
Braith’s aunts grinned widely at the compliment—Owena may have even giggled—while Ailean’s mate and offspring rolled their eyes. Especially Ghleanna, who appeared the most appalled.