His brother was broken. And although Fearghus’s devastation would have been great if Annwyl had fallen in battle, his enemy would have been clear. His task clearer—to kill and destroy all those who’d had a hand in Annwyl’s death.
But how did one kill a god?
If Briec knew, he would have done it himself long ago.
As Bercelak’s bad temper lashed out at his own brother and Addolgar—whose temper could be much worse—lashed back, Briec glanced around the room.
Something … he felt something.
He immediately glanced at his sister. Her expression didn’t change, her annoyance didn’t dwindle.
If Morfyd felt nothing then perhaps there was nothing to feel.
He dismissed it all and focused on his father, wondering which one of them would throw the first punch.
Ahh. Bercelak, of course. Not surprising.
The god in human form stood tall and looked at her. His hair was wildly long, a good portion of it dragging along the floor, and it seemed to have an array of colors streaking through all that black. When she’d first seen him, it had been too dark to tell all the nuances, but now she saw it all clearly. Even his eyes were a strange color. Violet perhaps? Very much the color of Briec’s eyes, although more vibrant—and surprisingly warmer than Briec’s. More friendly. Just like his handsome face.
Everything about him said handsome, charming, and sweet—and Dagmar didn’t believe any of that for even a second.
“So you don’t worship the gods.”
Dagmar moved farther into the room.
“Reason and logic are all I need.”
“But so cold and unfeeling are dear reason and logic.”
“They’ve done well enough for me. I’ve seen my people worship at the altars of gods like you and I have yet to see the benefit. Men cut down in their prime during battle, leaving wife and babes to their own. So the wife prays to her god. ‘Please god, help me now that my husband is gone.’ ” Dagmar shrugged. “Within a month or two, when she’s worked her way through the paltry sum given to her by the army, I’ll see her in the market, selling herself on the street to the highest bidder. Hoping to earn enough to put food on the table for babes who’ll grow-up as thieves and murderers. Or maybe as soldiers, because their father was, and then it can start all over again. No, I’m sorry. That I cannot worship.”
“But to save your friend, won’t you lie to me? Tell me what I want to hear? Won’t you play those same games you play with others?”
“I’ve read enough about the dragon gods to know that will be of no use to me. I can flatter you with compliments, but what will it buy me?”
“So then why are you here, my good Lady Dagmar?”
“I want to understand why.”
“Why what?”
“Why you’d do this to them. There was no one protecting my mother or me, so her death was unavoidable. But these babes”—she pointed at the twins, who tugged on their mother trying to get her attention—“they’re your creation. Why would you do this to them?”
“I’ve done nothing to them.”
“Taking their mother from them? Do you think they’ll forgive you?”
“They’ll have to understand. She’s too weak to protect them.”
“Now, yes, she is. But not before she was pregnant. And you’re a god. You could give that back to her.”
“If I deemed her worthy. I don’t. But fear not, sweet Dagmar, I’m taking them away from here. I’ll protect them and make sure they’re raised properly. I did a very good job with Izzy.”
“You don’t think their father will do a good job?”
“He’s very angry. He doesn’t want to blame them, but he does.”
“He wouldn’t have to if you gave him his mate back. Only she can protect these children.”
“That’s what I thought.” He glanced down at her, an insulting pout on his lips. Insulting because he wasn’t nearly as sad as he pretended.
“They will never forgive you,” she promised.
“They won’t have to know.”
“Ahhh, I see. Take them from their kin and they’ll never hear the stories about how you killed their mother.”
“I didn’t kill her.”
“Yes, you did. This is down to you, my lord. You and only you.”
“Well, it’s too late now.” He dismissed her with a wave, becoming frustrated. “By tonight, she’ll be greeting her ancestors. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
Her mind moving fast, Dagmar tried to find a way out of this. A way to help the babes first and perhaps, if she were lucky, Annwyl second. But for some reason, she could only think about wool socks. What in all of reason did wool socks have to do with anything?
She no longer even had that pair she brought with her. She’d given it to …
Dagmar rested her hand on the baseboard of the bed, steadying herself. She had only one chance here; she’d better make it good.
“And what of your mate, Rhydderch Hael?”
He stared at her. “What of her?”
“Ragnar told me the stories about the dragon gods.”
He laughed. “You mean when you thought he was a monk?” When she didn’t laugh along, he let out a bored sigh. “So what about my mate? And can we make this speedy?”
“I have a theory.”
“That does not sound speedy.”