With a roar, eyes wild with rage, Keita shifted to a roaring She-dragon, uncaring that everyone else had to dash out of her way or be crushed in their human forms.

Rhona grabbed Aidan’s arm and pulled him farther off. She used her free hand to motion to the triplets. They could handle Keita and Brannie and keep them from killing each other.

“All right, Aidan the Divine . . . tell me what the battle-fuck is going on.”

* * *

Uther moved the horses off to the side and stood beside them with Caswyn. They ate dried meat from their travel packs and watched as Keita and Brannie rolled across the land. Knocking down trees. Crushing boulders. Sending wildlife running for safety.

And running after them? The triplets, now in their dragon forms, desperately trying to stop them.

“That Rhona,” Caswyn said around his snack, “she’s—”

“Taken,” Uther reminded him.

“Yeah, but to a Lightning. Like there aren’t enough worthy Fire dragons for her to find a mate.”

“She must like him. And I hear that’s what counts when ya choose a mate. Liking them.”

“Eh.” Caswyn took another bite. “What about them triplets?”

“Little young, aren’t they?”

“Does that matter to us?”

“Yes,” Uther said quickly, thinking of his own younger sisters. “That matters.”

“All right. No need to get testy.”

Keita and Brannie rolled back the other way with the triplets still behind them. Uther and Caswyn managed to duck just in time to avoid a slashing tail. Sadly, one of the horses wasn’t fast enough and he lost his head, his body dropping to the ground, spasms shaking it.

Caswyn stared at the horse’s body and licked his lips.

That’s when Uther had to say it.

“By the gods, brother! You never learn!”

* * *

“I’m glad you told me everything. Now I know what needs to be done.”

Aidan smiled at his one-time trainer, who had told him in no uncertain terms that “You are a mighty killer, Aidan the Gold, but a soldier of this queen’s army? Never.”

“You can get me out of this?” Aidan teased.

Rhona laughed. “If only I could. But the orders came from Rhiannon and Ghleanna. You’re stuck.” She looked over at her cousins. Now they were trying to choke the life from each other while Rhona’s youngest sisters desperately attempted to tear them apart. “But I do think I know what to do with those two.”

“I’ve already got Uther and Caswyn to deal with. So anything you can do to help me . . .”

* * *

The back of Brannie’s neck was grabbed and she was yanked off Keita. Keita jumped up, claws aiming for her eyes, but Rhona caught a handful of all that red hair and yanked her until she lowered her forearms.

“That is enough!” their cousin bellowed, stopping them both in mid-attack.

Brannie might outrank Rhona the Fearless because she was only a sergeant. And Keita might be a princess. But among the Cadwaladr, Rhona had the highest rank of all the cousins who were the offspring of the offspring of Ailean the Wicked and Shalin the Innocent.

For good reason, too.

Rhona, since hatching, was the most dependable, loyal, and rational of all the Cadwaladr cousins. Often more rational than the elders. She kept them all from doing immensely stupid things with nothing more than sound reason. She didn’t hit unless necessary and didn’t throw anyone into volcanoes unless they really deserved it.

Even Branwen couldn’t say that.

So when she spoke . . . they all listened. Even Keita, queen of the difficult!

“My hair! My precious hair!” Keita screeched, desperately trying to untangle Rhona’s claw from her long tresses. “Let me go, you evil female!”

Brannie, who was being completely calm and had stopped attacking Keita as soon as Rhona had told her to, hysterically laughed at her cousin until Rhona said, “I have weapons.”

Standing straight, her laughter dying in her throat, Brannie asked, “Weapons? Where?” she asked, looking around. “Where are the weapons?”

“In the caravan crates.”

Excited beyond anything, Brannie ran over and quickly shifted back to her human self. Naked—her crappy chain mail and surcoat ruined when she’d become dragon—she climbed into the back of one of the carts and tore open the first crate she saw.

“You are so easily distracted,” Aidan remarked, leaning over the cart wall and smiling.

“Personally,” Uther added, “I like seeing you naked when we’re not running from Zealots and Caswyn isn’t dying. You should be naked more.”

Brannie pulled out a two-handed sword nearly the length of her body and easily held it in front of her.

Uther stepped back, hands up, and added, “I was just joking. You don’t have to get naked for me. I like you dressed. You should be covered from head to toe in full armor at all times.”

Using a finger to pick something out of his teeth, Caswyn said, “I like naked Branwen.”

Branwen stared down at Caswyn. “Why do you have blood on your face?”

“I don’t believe you!” Uther suddenly yelled at his friend before stomping off.

Branwen looked at Aidan. “What was that about?”

“Your beauty confuses them.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Rhona walked up to the cart with a red-faced Keita.

Brannie placed the point of the weapon into the cart floor, hand on the pummel, legs braced apart, and she knew she was smirking. She couldn’t help it.

Aidan cleared his throat. “You do know you’re still naked, don’t you?”

“Oh, I know.”

He dropped his head but she could still hear his laughter.

Standing in front of her, Rhona bumped Keita’s arm. “Do it,” she ordered their royal cousin.

“Sorry,” Keita muttered.

“Couldn’t hear you,” Brannie taunted. “What was that?”

Now glaring at her, Keita snarled, “Sorry I was being such a right prat.”

Smiling, her back straight, her human tits out and proud, Brannie nodded. “Apology accepted.”

“Now you,” Rhona said.

Brannie pointed at herself. “Me?”

“Aye. You.”

“I didn’t do anything! It was the prat,” Brannie accused.

“You can apologize,” Rhona said smoothly, “and the two of you can act like the mighty warrior and deceitful spy—”

“Oy!” Keita snapped.

“—that you are. Or you can not apologize and I can take all my wonderful weapons and go.”

Brannie snorted. “You would never leave me without weapons. Defenseless.”

“True. But, my cousin, there are weapons”—Rhona’s grin was slow and wide—“and there are weapons.”

Brannie took in a sudden breath, pointed at Rhona. “You . . . you made weapons with your father, didn’t you?”

Rhona and her father were brilliant blacksmiths. Her father, Sulien, was a Volcano dragon who’d taught his daughter the art of alchemy and creating weapons and armor that could change with a mere thought. He’d been sent away when the war started to work in a safe location where the Zealots could not get to him. Rhona had been working with him off and on over the years—she loved being a blacksmith much more than being a soldier, but she was great at both—and would bring newly created weapons back and forth to the front as needed.

Still grinning, Rhona tilted her head and said, “Maybe.”

Brannie tossed the two-handed sword away—barely noticing that the only thing that prevented Aidan from getting his head cut off was his speed at ducking—and jumped off the cart in front of Keita.

“O’ Keita!” she loudly intoned. “Much loved cousin—”

Keita glanced at Rhona. “What’s happening?”

“—I am sorry for ever doubting you.” She grabbed Keita’s hand and the She-dragon desperately tried to pull it away. “You are a Protector of the Throne and our throne and queen could not be in better claws than yours. I pray to the gods I never again offend you and that our familial love and adoration spans the centuries—”