“I can tell.”
“And you still have no idea who’s helping Lorcan?”
“It’s Hefaidd-Hen.” Fearghus watched as a wounded Bercelak landed gingerly in front of him, making sure not to further damage his wounded claw.
“Hefaidd-Hen? The Hefaidd-Hen?”
“Well, that’s just bloody wonderful,” Morfyd spat out as Briec continued to fly overhead blasting flames.
“And when were you planning to tell us?”
“Never. The girl shouldn’t have even been here. And you shouldn’t have been helping her.”
“Why would Hefaidd-Hen help Lorcan?” Morfyd cut in before Fearghus could go for their father’s throat.
“How should I know? And why should I care? These are human concerns, not ours.”
“You should care because Hefaidd-Hen’s a dragon,” Morfyd snapped angrily.
“If he gets Lorcan’s loyalty, then he gets his troops, which no doubt would triple once he’s secured the loyalty of the other regions.”
“And once he gets his troops, he moves on the queen,” Morfyd summed up quickly.
Fearghus saw his father suddenly realize the implication to them all of Hefaidd-Hen’s involvement.
“He wouldn’t dare.” If there was one thing Fearghus had always been sure of it was his father’s feelings for the queen. He had no doubt this little revelation would change everything.
“That dragon craves power more than anything,” he reminded Bercelak. “And all he’s ever wanted was the queen’s throne.”
“There’s much power in her blood,” Morfyd added. “If he takes it . . .”
“That won’t happen.”
“Then you best hope Annwyl defeats Lorcan, father. If she doesn’t, however, then we’d best prepare for war. Because no dragon will be safe.”
Fearghus watched Bercelak struggle with all this. The old dragon hated being wrong. Especially when his own children pointed it out to him. But Bercelak knew, in his heart, how right they were. And Fearghus knew that he would do what was best for the queen, as Bercelak always had.
His father’s head snapped up. “Briec and I will return to the queen. And you two make sure the girl wins, I don’t care what you have to do.”
“If she lets us near her, father,” Morfyd bravely chastised. “Her last memory is of you trying to kill her and telling her about Fearghus before he could.”
Briec finally landed behind his father. He tossed his silver mane. “She still saved Gwenvael. I saw her. She’s a brave girl . . . for a human.”
“I know that,” Fearghus snapped. He looked at his father. “I’m just not sure how I’m going to fix this.”
“Well you better find a way, boy. Use whatever charm she seems to think you possess. You got her on her back at least once before.”
Morfyd slid between Fearghus and their father before he could kill the old bastard. “Fearghus!”
“Just let me kill him. I’m begging you!”
“Father, go!”
The dragon didn’t waste time; he took to the skies. Briec nodded at his siblings once and followed.
“Really, Fearghus. You need to stop asking me to let you kill our family.”
Fearghus shook his head. “They just keep irritating me.”
Morfyd gave a smile he knew would frighten any human. “I know. But that’s what most families do. Irritate.” She stepped back. “I need to do something, Fearghus. And you need to go to Annwyl.”
Fearghus looked down at his large claws and sighed. “She hates me.”
“Yes. I believe she does.”
“How is that supportive?” he bellowed.
“I’m not going to lie to you, brother. But I also know she loves you. She must. She risked her life to save Gwenvael.”
“Yes. She did.”
“And now she’s alone with him.” Fearghus looked at his sister. “She’s alone with big, golden, charming Gwenvael. And he’s probably feeling so indebted to her right now for saving his life.”
Fearghus knew what his sister was doing. Knew how she was trying to manipulate him. That didn’t change the fact that it worked.
He took to the skies, only briefly wondering what “something” his sister must do at that very moment. But he thought of Gwenvael alone with Annwyl and he forgot all about his sister.
Annwyl’s rear hit the ground hard. The shock traveled all the way from her spine to her teeth. But she knew that in the dragon’s mind he’d dropped her gently to the ground.
She heard him land behind her and felt human hands grip her under her arms and lift her to her feet. “That wasn’t too hard was it?”
“No. Like landing on pillows.” She pulled away from him.
“I could have taken you directly to your camp.”
“True, but then I’d have a camp full of screaming men wetting themselves over the dragon.”
“Oh. Good point.”
She didn’t know what to do with this Gwenvael. And not just because he was naked and very much like his brother. But because up until now he’d never stopped flirting with her, although he’d always kept a healthy distance from her and Fearghus. But this Gwenvael seemed almost sweet, the smug bravado gone.
“Well, you can go.” She waved him away, hoping he’d leave. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to be angry. Really angry.
“Yes. I just wanted to say . . . well, thank you for saving me.”
She had, hadn’t she? Why? At the moment, she hated all dragons. Especially large black ones. Must have been instinct. Anything that fought against Lorcan or his men, she needed to protect.
“You’re welcome.” She realized he was leaning into her. His eyes focused on her mouth, his lips slightly open. She slapped her hand over his face, just as she had his brother. “What are you doing?”
“I was going to give you a kiss. . . .”
“Don’t even think about it, Gwenvael. I am in no mood.”
The dragon nodded sagely. “You still love him.”
“No, Gwenvael. I don’t love anything. And I don’t think I’ll love anything ever again!” He stepped back at her sudden spurt of rage. “Now get out of my sight!”
She stomped off toward camp, her rage walking beside her like a pet panther.
Chapter 15
Brastias dismissed the other lieutenants. Once alone with Danelin, he asked him the question that had plagued him all day. “Anything more on Lorcan?”
Danelin shook his head. “No. And I’m worried.”
“That bastard’s going to move soon. I can feel it.”
“Have you seen the witch again? Do you know if Annwyl is still returning?” At the mere mention of Morfyd, Brastias felt his whole body tighten. “I don’t know,” he barked gruffly.
“What if she’s still healing? She’ll be no use to us if she can’t fight.”
Brastias walked out of the tent, Danelin beside him. “I want the men prepared and ready. When Lorcan moves, I don’t want us surprised. By anything.”
“I understand.”
The two men stepped aside as a woman pushed past them heading to Annwyl’s tent.
Brastias stopped. “Was that . . . ?”
“I . . . think so.”
Brastias and Danelin followed. They found Annwyl just as she threw a chair across the room.
“Lying, conniving, toe-rag!”
Danelin gave Brastias a look, turned, and ran.
“Annwyl?”
Angry green eyes locked on to him, and he’d wished he’d run like Danelin. When he still had the chance. “Brastias. My friend.” Uh-oh, this couldn’t be good. “Do you lie to me?”
“Uh . . . no.”
“See? That’s a lie!”