“Someone’s coming,” Keita said.

“From the east.” Brannie motioned to Uther and Caswyn. “Get Keita out of here.”

Aidan pulled the females’ hands away from his face. “What about you?”

“They know we’re here.” Her head tilted to the side a bit. “They’ve sent riders ahead. I’ll deal with them.”

“Bran—”

“It’s all right. Just go.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

“Your orders are to protect Keita. Do it.”

Reluctant, but unable to argue—his orders from the queen had been very clear—Aidan pulled his horse back and rode off to the trees. Keita right behind him, with Uther and Caswyn protecting her flank.

* * *

Brannie dismounted her horse and pulled out her sword. Not knowing the horse as well as she’d known her brave old steed—gods, how she missed him—she didn’t want to risk fighting on his back. So she slapped his ass and sent him to the side of the road.

She stood her ground and waited . . . but after a few minutes she saw nothing. No one coming her way. All sound of advancement had stopped. Some would feel relief, but she didn’t. Instead, she was only more concerned. Because that could mean—

Something small, human, and powerful landed on her back, arms around her neck.

Choking, Brannie grabbed the arm, and yanked. She flung the body away from her but another small and powerful body hit her from the right, pinning her sword arm to her side.

Standing her ground, not allowing herself to be dragged to the ground, Brannie used her free hand to grab hold of a good amount of hair and pull.

There was a screech and she sent the body flying. But before she could raise her arm, yet another body attacked her. Hands over Brannie’s face, legs around her waist.

Fed up, Brannie reached back and grabbed an arm. She lifted the body up and over her head, slamming it to the ground. She used her foot to pin it in place and raised her sword. That’s when she realized that the weak blade had broken in the middle.

“I knew this thing was a piece of—”

A strong, sturdy blade slid under her chin. “Such shitty weaponry, Cadwaladr. You should be ashamed. For that affront alone, you should die. . . .”

* * *

Aidan heard screams. He would have ignored them, but one of those screams was definitely Branwen’s.

Still, his orders from the queen—

“What are you waiting for?” Keita practically bellowed at him. “Go to my cousin. Now!”

Aidan immediately turned his horse around and rode back.

As he cleared the trees, he dismounted his horse in mid-gallop and pulled his weapon.

Three vicious she-demons had wrapped themselves around Branwen, pummeling her with fists and assaulting her with their screams. Aidan stormed up to them, grabbing the first one by the neck and yanking her off. He threw her to her back and was about to impale her with his blade when his hand was caught and held.

Smelling the flame of dragons, he froze and looked down at the female holding him. He blinked twice, shocked.

“Rhona?”

Rhona the Fearless of the Cadwaladr Clan smiled at him. “Aidan the Divine? What are you doing here?”

“Trying to—”

“Rhona?” Keita the Viper called out from the side of the road, both Caswyn and Uther wincing behind her. “My dear, sweet cousin! Is that you?”

Rhona briefly closed her eyes and said softly to Aidan, “Oh . . . you poor dragon.”

Aidan sighed. “Rhona, my old friend, you have no idea.”

* * *

Brannie tossed off the last of her cousins and gazed down at them on the ground while the triplets moaned.

“Is that the best you lot can do?”

“I tell them they need more training,” Rhona said about her sisters. “But they never believe me.”

Nesta, Breena, and Edana slowly got to their feet and brushed their asses off as a caravan came onto the road about a half a mile away.

“What’s that?” Brannie asked, pointing.

“That’s why we’re out here and not fighting with the queen’s armies at the moment. We were heading back, but many of the roads were inundated with the bloody Zealots. We had to take tunnels to get here. Word is these roads aren’t bad.”

“No. They’re not. But be careful what you drink and eat,” she warned.

Rhona looked over at Keita being helped down from her horse by Caswyn. “Gods, how many has she poisoned now?”

“I’ve lost track.”

“Now wait one minute!” Keita snarled, slapping Caswyn’s hands away so she could stomp her way over. “I’ll have you know that everything I’ve done has been for the protection of the throne.”

“Stop looking so smug, Keita,” Rhona told her flatly.

Keita’s arms dropped to her sides and her bottom lip poked out. “But she’s being so mean to me, Rhona,” she now whined. “Beat her for me, would you? Teach her where she stands in the hierarchy of this family.”

“In this family?” Rhona asked. “She’s way over you.”

“How could you say that to me?”

“Everyone knows it. You’re a sneaky spy who kills without honor. The only thing that stopped any of us from killing you decades ago was that Uncle Bercelak adores you and Protectors of the Throne are important during wartime. As for Brannie, she roars into battle, fighting with skill and force, and bringing nothing but honor and respect to the Cadwaladr name.” Rhona stepped close to Keita, looking down at her. “Do you think for a second that you could ever live up to her in our eyes?”

“You know what, cousin? I never liked you.” Keita put her hands on her hips and turned to Brannie. “And you’re just lucky I haven’t given you something to make you lose all your scales. Ask Gwenvael how well that went for him and how long it took to grow his scales back. Then give me that tone.”

* * *

Rhona the Fearless really did love her kin. She did. Really. Honestly!

But sometimes they were a lot of work. Especially when a few of them weren’t getting along.

First Keita, with her inability to simply tell those working with her exactly what was going on so everyone was clear and involved. True, she’d probably been trained that way by those who’d brought her into the Protectors of the Throne because secrecy was what kept them alive. But if Rhona was to be honest—and when wasn’t she?—Keita enjoyed tormenting others just for the hell of it. Like her brother Gwenvael, nothing entertained her more than confusing and ridiculing everyone around her.

Then there was wonderful Branwen, whose biggest issue was her lack of focus. In battle, there was no question that Branwen was the cousin Rhona wanted at her side. Like her mother, Brannie was a true warrior. But when she wasn’t in battle . . .

Gods! It was like talking to a human who’d been hit on the head one too many times.

“Why doesn’t someone explain to me what’s going on. And why you are here, Branwen, and not with your troops?”

Brannie’s eyes narrowed dangerously and she opened her mouth, but Aidan suddenly stepped between them.

“No, no,” he said to Branwen. “We don’t have time for you to start yelling again. And, to be truthful, I just can’t listen to that anymore.”

“But she—”

“Caswyn killed your horse,” he suddenly announced to Branwen, causing his dragon friend to turn to him in horror.

“You treacherous bastard!” Caswyn cried.

Rhona leaned to the side to look at her cousin. “Awwwww. Not Puddles.”

“He was injured in battle and I was going to put him down with honor!” Brannie yelled, still upset. “And that dozy bastard ate him!”

“He was dying anyway!”

“I still don’t care!” Brannie snarled at Caswyn before she turned to Keita and barked, “And what are you laughing about?”

Standing a few feet away and giggling, Keita replied, “The Mì-runach killed your horse. That’s the funniest thing I’ve heard all century.”

Branwen gazed at her cousin for long seconds before announcing, “You have wide hips like your mother.”