“All friends!” Zoya agreed as she hustled the few weakened humans that were let out of their cages. “Some of these humans we may want to kill now. They are too weak to travel.”

“No, Zoya Kolesova,” Aidan said before Brannie had the chance. “We’ll not do that.”

“I do not listen to you, penis haver.”

“Then I’ll say it,” Brannie cut in, using her firmest captain voice. “We kill no one. If someone can’t travel out of this fort on their own, you can carry them on your strong Kolesova back.”

Zoya nodded. “All right.”

Aidan rolled his eyes, frustrated his words alone hadn’t bent Zoya to his will. But to Zoya Kolesova, a male was a male was a male. It didn’t matter if they were dragon or men or giant trolls. If they were male, they simply weren’t worth listening to.

And, honestly, Brannie enjoyed that part of Zoya. Her logic was pure, as was her unwillingness to change it.

“Oy!” Caswyn yelled out. “I found another way—”

The double doors Aidan and Uther had closed off burst open and armed Zealots flooded into the room, one of their eyeless priests leading the way.

When both eyes were missing, Brannie knew she was dealing with not only a slavering sycophant of Chramnesind, but a powerful priest. Apparently Chramnesind really liked his followers to slaver.

The weakened humans that had been trapped in these dungeons for days immediately panicked and moved as quickly as they could behind Branwen and the others.

“Going so soon?” the priest asked. “And we had so many plans for those who follow the Abominations and their whore mother.”

Brannie was already moving on the priest when Aidan grabbed her arm and yanked her back. She had no idea why he’d bothered. He’d never stopped her from killing one of the Zealot priests before.

But then she saw it. Easing into the room from the stairs.

Smoke.

Brannie’s nose twitched and she immediately knew this wasn’t some regular fire. The smoke was tainted with . . . something. She could smell it.

Then, the Zealots in the back of their group began to spasm. Eyes—those who had them—rolled back in the Zealots’ heads, saliva poured from their mouths, weapons dropped to the floor from paralyzed fingers.

“Keita,” Aidan said softly. And it was all she needed to hear.

“Move!” Brannie ordered the others. “Move!”

Those too weak were picked up by Zoya, Uther, and Caswyn. Caswyn led the way to a door in the walls he’d found. He pushed it open and went inside, the rest of them following.

Once Brannie stepped in, she turned to close the door firmly behind her, giving her a brief view of what was happening to the Zealots she was leaving behind.

Whatever poisonous smoke Keita had released into this place, it was not merely killing the Zealots. It was torturing them. Giving them the most violent, painful death any of them could imagine.

That’s how Brannie knew. She knew that Keita had somehow found out that her longtime friend was dead and that these Zealots were responsible.

Shutting the door, Brannie turned and charged up behind the others. She grabbed two of the slowest humans and began to run with them in her arms.

“Move!” she ordered again. “All of you, move!”

* * *

It took a little time, but they eventually found their way back to the door that they’d used to get in.

Once Aidan got the humans he was carrying out, he went back to help the others.

He assisted as many as he could until they were far enough away to drop to the ground.

The smoke had nearly caught up to them as they’d made their mad escape. Now, gasping and coughing, Aidan stretched out on the ground with the others under the pouring rain and looked back at the fort.

Most dragons would have burned it down to the ground and been done with it. But not Keita. There was no fire. Just smoke. Poisonous smoke.

And that poisonous smoke came out from behind every small window, from behind and under doors, from every crack in the foundation. It came out and curled up into the air.

And with it, he could hear the screams and cries of the suffering and slowly dying Zealots.

It wasn’t that Aidan was bothered by the deaths of their sworn enemies. Actually, that didn’t bother him at all. What did bother him however . . .

“Did you forget we were in there?” Brannie demanded of her cousin when she walked up to them.

Keita shrugged. “You were taking too long.”

Despite his need to cough up whatever was traveling through his lungs, Aidan still managed to jump up and grab hold of Brannie before she could throw herself at Keita.

“Do you ever think of anyone but yourself?” Brannie demanded. “We are here for you and this is how you treat us?”

With an eye roll, Keita walked off and Brannie tried to go after her, but Aidan kept his arms around her waist, holding her back.

“Let it go,” he suggested.

“Let it go? She could have killed us, too!”

“She lost Ren,” Uther said, helping some of the stronger humans up so they could assist the others. They wouldn’t be able to travel with the dragons. The humans would have to rely on each other.

“Yeah,” Caswyn tossed in. “How would you feel if it had been Iz?”

Brannie stopped fighting, but she clearly didn’t like what they were saying either because she rammed her elbow into Aidan’s collarbone, forcing him to release her.

“Ow! That hurt.”

“Good.”

Uther pointed. “You should talk to her.”

Brannie’s mouth dropped open at the suggestion. “Talk to her?”

“She’s your cousin.”

“So?”

“If this was Izzy—”

“Shut up!” Brannie closed her eyes and blew out a breath. “I hate all of you,” she complained before going after Keita.

* * *

Brannie grudgingly followed after her kin.

She felt her logic was sound. Keita had taken a stupid risk doing what she did and, as Cadwaladrs, conversation wasn’t necessary.

A good beating, however . . . that was more than warranted.

But the “nanny gang” seemed to think Brannie owed Keita some kind of consideration. And invoking Izzy every time they wanted her to do something....

It was just wrong!

Brannie’s relationship with Izzy was different from every other relationship she had. Unlike Brannie and Celyn, Brannie didn’t have random, morning fistfights with Izzy. They didn’t argue about who Mum and Da loved more. They didn’t argue about who was more stupid: Oxen or their brother Fal. They simply enjoyed each other’s company, whether sitting in Izzy’s tent drinking Uncle Bercelak’s ale or in the midst of battle.

Brannie and Keita, on the other hand, had little in common. They were blood relations but that was all.

So what could Brannie possibly say to the royal that would somehow connect them and make this bloody trip at least tolerable?

“I . . .” Brannie began, walking fast to keep up with Keita. “I . . . uh . . . heard that cousin Eugenie is sleeping with Duke Clemens.”

Keita got a few more feet before she stopped and, slowly, faced Brannie.

“What?”

Brannie cleared her throat. “Eugenie is sleeping with Duke Clemens.”

“He’s more than sixty winters. And her mother hates humans.”

“And he’s an old human. Eugenie’s mum is said to be beside herself with rage. Uncle Rhys doesn’t know how to handle it. His wife is that angry.”

“I don’t blame her,” Keita said, glancing off. “Eugenie’s a baby. Not even eighty yet.”

“Her brother says she’s an old soul.”

“She’s not an old soul. She’s a young soul that likes pissing off her mother. I should know . . .” She shrugged. “I’m the queen of Pissing-Off-Mother Land.”

Brannie chuckled but, after a few moments, she asked, “How did you know?” Keita raised her eyebrows. “About Ren.”

She held out her hand, revealing a gold medallion and chain in her palm.

“This was his. I found it among the bodies outside the fort.”