With a sweet, understanding smile, he stretched out on his own bedroll. Brannie followed suit, her hands behind her head, her gaze focused on the sky above.

Except for Caswyn’s intolerable snoring, it was a nice evening.

And probably the last one they’d have for a very long time.

Chapter Ten

It was late when Rhi tracked her great-aunt down, with her twin cousins following right behind.

They didn’t like to let her “go off by yourself. Who knows what trouble you’ll get into?”

Talan and Talwyn still acted as if she were five winters old. It was irritating. She could take care of herself, thank you very much!

But that said . . . she didn’t mind them attaching themselves to her when she had to face Brigida the Most Foul. That she’d rather not do on her own.

Brigida stood in a burnt-out clearing where giant trees used to live and thrive. She was in her dragon form, and a wounded horse was screaming as it tried to get away from the beast looming over it.

The She-dragon stared down at the poor animal, fighting to get back on its feet, but she didn’t attack right off. She stared first. And Rhi got the distinct feeling the old Dragonwitch was enjoying the animal’s suffering.

Rhi looked away as the twins stood on either side of her.

“Do it, Rhi,” Talan urged.

With a nod, Rhi crouched low and touched the burnt ground. She buried her fingers deep and closed her eyes. Power slipped from her fingers, cutting through the earth until it reached the horse. Its entire body tensed and it screamed out one last time before mercifully dying.

Talan crouched down beside Rhi and he also dug his fingers into the soil as she pulled hers free. His power, dark and uncompromising, flew from his hand, through the dirt, and into the horse. Its eyes turned red and the animal scrambled to its feet. It still bled from its many wounds and was no longer alive, but now undead.

Sucking her tongue against her fangs, Brigida glanced back at the three of them.

“Always ruining my fun, ain’tcha?”

“You don’t toy with an animal like that,” Rhi chastised. “It’s wrong and you know it.”

“Depends on who you pull your power from, little girl.” Sitting back on her hind legs, she used her forearm to grab her walking stick. It lengthened and grew until she had to use both front claws to handle it. “My masters don’t care what I do, as long as I make me sacrifices.”

Rhi had long ago stopped asking her great-aunt what sacrifices those were. She honestly didn’t want to know.

Walking away from Rhi and Talan, Talwyn moved closer to Brigida, crossing her arms over her chest. “Why are you here, Brigida?” she demanded.

“To help me kin,” Brigida replied before she slammed the end of her staff into the undead horse. She beat its head until it stopped moving.

“Don’t give us that centaur shit, old bitch,” Talwyn snapped. “We know you. Why are you really here? What do you hope to gain?”

Brigida didn’t answer right away. She was too busy picking up the horse’s undead remains and shoving it into her maw.

Rhi glanced at Talan, her face—she was sure—showing her full disgust. Everyone knew that the remains of a reanimated animal or human were not for eating. As soon as Talan’s magicks touched one of his victims, the soul was immediately forced out and the insides turned fetid.

But there Brigida was, gulping down that horse with ease. After a few minutes, she burped and happily stretched. As though she’d just dined on tea and cakes.

Flames exploded around the old She-dragon and she was in her human form again. She slipped on her wool dress and pulled on her gray cloak. Then, leaning heavily on her walking stick, she slowly limped her way over to them.

“Your grandfather will be here soon enough,” Brigida said as she moved. “I want to make sure we’re ready for him when the time comes.”

“If Grandfather comes here,” Rhi reminded her, “you know what he will do.”

“He’ll tear this land apart and rip the castle down around that fancy Lord Salebiri and his whore-wife Ageltrude.”

Brigida had been cutting past them when she said that last part and Talwyn quickly stepped in front of her, stopping Brigida in her tracks.

“You know who Ageltrude really is—why are you acting like you don’t? What are you up to?”

It was a sound question Rhi’s cousin asked. They’d known for years now that Salebiri’s wife Ageltrude was actually Vateria, last of the House of Atia Flominia and hated cousin of the Rebel King. Gaius had discovered her involvement with the Zealots and warned Rhiannon and Annwyl, because there was no way that Vateria was a true believer. She only loved herself.

Not only had she convinced her husband she was human and a loyal follower of Chramnesind, but they’d had children together. Offspring like Rhi and Talan and Talwyn, Abominations.

Brigida stepped into Talwyn, her face close. “What if I am up to something?” she asked, her voice low. “What will you do about it?”

Rhi and Talan were about to spring to Talwyn’s side, but just as they were both going to move, Brigida’s damaged eye, all milky white and painful looking, suddenly swiveled over in its eye socket and locked on the pair.

“That thing has a life of its own!” Talwyn had screamed more than once at them. And Rhi feared her cousin might be right.

“You three got much work to do,” Brigida said, now moving around Talwyn to go her own way. “Better get to it. There won’t be much time left once your grandfather gets here.”

They silently watched her walk away until Talwyn asked Brigida, “Where’s my mother?”

“How should I know?” was the reply they got back.

“Is she dead?”

“Maybe,” Brigida said with a shrug. “Then again . . . maybe not. Who knows with that woman?”

* * *

The three cousins returned to the tent and Fearghus felt his heart drop when they told him what had been said. Sadly, though, he wasn’t surprised. He knew that Brigida would never tell any of them what she might or might not know about Annwyl’s disappearance, but they’d all needed to try.

He refused to believe his mate was dead. That somehow, Zealots had gotten hold of her. He refused to believe it because if he did, he’d never get through this. And he knew Annwyl would want him to lead this fight in her absence because she’d told him that more than once.

So he put his heartache away and focused on the more important matters at hand.

“We need to be ready before your grandfather gets here. There’s always a chance Salebiri could be planning something. Has already moved on it.”

“We have legions heading to his castle to surround it,” Izzy told them, sitting on the big table with all the maps. Éibhear sat on the ground, his head resting against the side of her leg. He hadn’t been himself since word came down that Branwen and his three Mì-runach brothers were missing, last seen heading to one of the mountains to take on a small group of Zealots. Most believed them already dead but bodies had yet to be found.

Then again, the debris from the fallen mountains went on for miles. They might never know what had happened to their kin and friends when everything was said and done. But Fearghus was sure that if Branwen could, she’d return to her soldiers.

Talwyn sat down on the armrest of Fearghus’s chair and rested her head against the top of his. She didn’t say anything, but she knew how he felt. Father and daughter had always understood each other.

Fearghus worried about the boy, though. He was as close to his mother as Talwyn was close to Fearghus. If something happened to her at the hands of the Zealots . . .

No. Best not to think of that, either. Not now. Not when they had plans to make, Zealots to kill. The idea of his only son becoming an evil necromancer kept him up some nights, but he hadn’t worried too much because Annwyl’s love had always kept their son from falling too far. But without her during his formative years . . .

They sat with their own thoughts for a long while until Rhi abruptly asked the room, “Anyone else worried about what Grandda is going to do once he gets here?”

“Gods, yes.”

“Blood will soak the lands for centuries.”