Chapter Twelve

“Why are you smiling?” Caswyn asked Brannie while they were packing up their horses.

“No reason,” she replied, dropping her head down. She needed to get hold of herself.

“Don’t lie to me. What are you plotting?”

Now Brannie looked at the big dragon in human form. “What?”

“You heard me.” His eyes narrowed. “What are you planning?”

Whispering, she replied, “Just your death.”

Now Caswyn’s eyes grew wide in panic but there was Aidan, pulling his friend away and back toward his own horse.

“We’re losing daylight,” Aidan announced. “Let’s move.”

He briefly stopped on the other side of Brannie’s horse to glare at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Stop it.”

“I didn’t do anything. He’s being paranoid.”

“Is he?” Aidan asked, sounding wonderfully judgmental.

Good-byes were said to her kin, the triplets hugging Brannie hard before mounting their horses and heading off. Rhona stopped long enough to give her one of her speeches about duty and honor, but when she realized that Brannie had stopped listening halfway through, she went back to her old tactics of hitting her once in the back of the head and ordering, “Don’t be stupid!” Then she, the other dragons, and all those wonderful weapons and armor were gone.

They turned the opposite way and began their journey toward the Port Cities. It had been ages since Brannie had been to the port towns, where a growing number of lands and people brought their wares to sell and trade. It was completely logical that Ren would head there to go home.

Which was why Brannie was still hoping that Ren was alive and well. Maybe even heading this way with his mother’s army at his side.

For once, Brannie did feel bad for Keita. She’d forgotten how close Keita and Ren had always been. Not as lovers. She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think they’d ever been lovers. But as best friends? Maybe even siblings? That they were. That they would always be.

And losing someone you considered a brother or sister had to be hard. Thinking of Izzy being cut down in battle made Brannie sick and they’d been like sisters since they’d met all those years ago.

Even now Brannie missed Izzy. After her morning with Aidan, the first thing Brannie would have done would be to tell Izzy. In detail. And not having her here hurt. Their kinship went beyond the blood and tough times they’d shared during battle. They considered themselves sisters on another level. Their species differences—dragon versus human—meant nothing when it came down to it. Because they understood each other as no one else had ever understood them.

Brannie’s brother Celyn didn’t even understand her the way Izzy did. And this trip would be ten thousand times more tolerable if only her best friend were here.

“Such sighs,” Aidan remarked from beside her, pulling her away from her thoughts. “What makes Branwen the Awful so miserable?”

She gave a little smile. “I’m not miserable. Just missing—”

“The great Izzy?”

Brannie nodded. “This is the kind of mission she loved when there was no war to pull us away. For some, a proper holiday is in the Desolate Caverns. For me and Iz, it was finding shit to get into. A little protection work. A little killing when necessary.” She sighed again. “I miss our holidays.”

“Wasn’t it one of your holidays with Izzy where Éibhear nearly lost a foot?”

Eyes rolling, “Gods, is he still going on about that? We wouldn’t have let him be sacrificed. I don’t know why he goes on so about it.”

“Because he almost lost a foot.”

“All these years and he’s still a big baby.”

Keita suddenly pulled back on the reins of her horse and looked around.

Brannie stopped behind her cousin and sighed once more. “You’re lost, aren’t you?”

“I am not lost. I’m just . . .”

“Lost.”

“Orienting myself!”

“This road does lead us to the Port Cities,” Aidan pointed out.

“But remember what the priest said. He didn’t lose Ren in Port Cities, so I’m just—”

“Lost.”

Keita glared at Brannie. “We are not lost, peasant!” She suddenly pointed. “There. We should head that way.”

Eyes narrowing, Brannie grabbed Aidan’s arm before he could ride off with his Mì-runach brethren who would automatically follow.

“Why?” Brannie asked Keita.

“Why what?”

“Why would Ren turn off that way?”

“Why are you asking me that?”

“Because I’m almost positive you’re guessing. And we don’t have time for your guesses. So why don’t we just go to the Port Cities, then backtrack ten leagues northeast? See what we find?”

“I’d rather follow in Ren’s claw-steps, thank you very much.”

“That’s fine, but you don’t know where that is.”

“We are five dragons,” Keita needlessly reminded her. “I think we can handle a little off-road searching.” She pointed at a large dent in a nearby tree. “And the mark on that tree. That’s from Ren. A message to me.”

“You’re sure?”

“Are you calling me a liar?”

“Every day, but in this instance, I just want you to be sure. It’s not like we have a lot of time here, Keita.”

“I am well aware of our time limits. So”—she threw out her arm in a big, sweeping gesture—“can we please go, cousin?”

Brannie glanced at Aidan, but all he did was give a small shrug, which meant he was leaving this decision completely up to her. And since she was the ranking officer, that was probably for the best.

Taking the lead, Brannie steered her horse into the trees and hoped they weren’t making a mistake they’d regret later.

* * *

It took Aidan some time to realize that Keita wasn’t merely wandering aimlessly. She was actually following the tracks of her friend. More than once, she’d dismount from her horse and study the ground, or nearby trees.

Shocked, Brannie kept looking at him, as if she expected him to tell her, “Don’t worry. You’re dreaming. Your flighty cousin isn’t a well-trained spy and tracker.”

But she was. And she was damn good.

After three hours of moving through the forest, Keita paused near a small town called Aberthol.

Aidan had passed by this town often when he was on the move with his Mì-runach brethren. But he’d never had the time or need to stop in for the night. It was so far from main roads, Aidan doubted many made Aberthol one of their stops.

So to find evidence that the Zealots had made the town one of their sanctuaries wasn’t exactly shocking.

But he’d admit that the sight of the massive fort not even a mile from the town . . . that was a bit of a shock.

And the rows and rows of humans who had been “purified,” staked out in meticulous lines? That, too, took them all by surprise.

Keita’s horse reared back after sniffing the first victim. The decomposing body on its knees, body staked to the ground by a wood spike through its diaphragm and out its spine and directly into the dirt. Its head tipped all the way back, hardened silver covering the sockets where the eyes used to be before they’d been burned out. The mouths frozen open in panic and horror.

That was the Zealots’ “purification” process when their victims refused to give up their gods and their beliefs. They poured molten silver into their victims’ eyes and allowed them to slowly die under the two suns. It might take hours . . . sometimes days.

Keita expertly got her horse to back up until she was safely hidden in the trees beside the rest of their small party. With a nod, she turned her horse and rode farther away from the fort.

When she finally stopped, the rest of the group surrounded her and Keita’s gaze landed on her cousin.

“On Annwyl’s land?” Brannie bit out between clenched teeth, her anger great.

“You need to calm down.”