“Take their souls.”

And Kachka said it so matter-of-factly that Brannie didn’t really think about it until Aidan asked, “Pardon?”

“That is what Nina Chechneva does. She takes the souls of men and uses them to increase her power. We let her as long as she does not betray us. If she betrays us, then we let Zoya Kolesova tear her arms off.”

Aidan nodded at that. “So you have all formed a nice . . . bond, I see.”

“No. We loathe her and she loathes us, but we work well together to defeat the Zealots.”

“Okay, then,” Brannie said with a smile, refusing to ask any more. Because she honestly didn’t want to know.

* * *

By the time they made it outside, Nina Chechneva was nearly done devouring the last soul.

Her slim body was covered in dark light and she seemed to be in the throes of passion, her head thrown back, gasps rising from her throat, her body undulating.

It was disturbing to watch; Aidan couldn’t imagine how horrible it was to go through it. To be the one whose soul she was taking.

And what happened to those souls? Were they trapped inside her? Did they merely disappear, never moving on to the next level? Never seeing their ancestors on the other side?

Again, Aidan didn’t know and he didn’t think he wanted to. Strange things could sometimes give him nightmares and he’d rather sleep well.

Keita walked past the bodies, studying each one carefully before facing Brannie.

“I don’t know them.”

“But they’re here for you. For us.”

She put her hands on her hips and again looked at those sent to kill them all. “We need a new boat. Another way to get to the Eastlands.”

Aidan understood. Everything they’d already planned was suspect now. Someone wanted to stop Keita from making this trip.

“You need boat,” Zoya said. “We get boat.” She patted Keita’s head. “Do not worry, tiny weak female. The Daughters of the Steppes will protect you.”

The Riders began hauling the bodies to an alley so they wouldn’t be found for a while, and Brannie immediately moved to her cousin’s side.

“Keita—”

Keita raised her hand. “No, no. I have seen the benefit of having the Riders around. And I have no intention of killing any of them . . . until we’re done. If we survive, then I’ll kill them all.”

“Not Kachka,” Brannie reminded her, giving her cousin a short hug. “I’ll never hear the end of it from Celyn.”

“Fair enough.”

Chapter Nineteen

To protect Keita, only the Riders went to the Port City docks to find a boat that could take them to the Eastlands. The rest of them stayed well inside the city in a back alley, all of them surrounding Keita’s tiny human form.

She was very tense the entire time, pacing and constantly scratching the back of her neck. The She-dragon wanted to know who was trying to stop her trip if it wasn’t the Zealots. Who was willing to kill the entire party just to stop her?

Since Aidan didn’t know who was on Keita’s vast list of connections, he couldn’t help. All he could do was stand guard with Brannie and his Mì-runach brethren until Kachka returned to them.

“Zoya found boat,” she told them, motioning the group out of the alley.

They moved quickly, aware the two suns were beginning to dawn in the sky.

Reaching the dock, they hastened past the fishermen heading to their own boats and the merchants and fishmongers who were already setting up their stalls for the day.

“There,” Kachka said, pointing at a Northland-type ship docked in the harbor. It was bigger than Aidan expected, round shields lining the outside of the boat for, Aidan guessed, easy access during a fight.

They stopped by a load of crates that would be placed on another boat heading out. Zoya stood on the dock between the boat and the crates. She studied the area closely before she motioned for them all to come forward.

Walking quickly but not running, they headed toward the boat. But as Aidan was about to pass a still-watchful Zoya, she caught hold of his arm to halt him.

“What?” he asked.

She motioned behind him, her confused gaze focused in the same direction.

Aidan looked over his shoulder, expecting to see more of the robed assassins coming for Keita but . . . no. That was not what had Zoya’s attention.

It was Branwen. She still stood by the crates.

Surprised, Aidan rushed back to her side. “Come on,” he urged. “We have to move.”

“You know, I was thinking . . .”

She was thinking? Now? When they were trying to avoid those trying to kill them?

“Why don’t I stay here? Take care of those pesky assassins?”

Pesky?

“That way we can be sure that you guys . . . you know . . . get away. Safely and all.”

“What are you talking about?”

Keita appeared at his side, Kachka behind her.

“What’s going on?” Keita asked.

“I was thinking I should stay here,” Brannie said, her gaze seemingly locked on the ground.

“Take care of those pesky assassins,” Aidan added, frowning at Keita.

“If we get on the boat and get out of here,” Keita reasoned, “we won’t have to worry about anyone. So let’s go.”

Brannie lifted her head, looked at all of them, then said, “I’m . . . I’m not leaving my troops. I’m going back to the front.”

Keita threw up her hands. “Are we actually here again?”

“We’re here again,” Brannie insisted. “I’m not leaving my . . . my men . . . for anyone. Including you, cousin. So there!”

Keita let out a disgusted sound from the back of her throat. “I don’t have time for this centaur shit. Kachka, grab her and let’s go.”

Without question, Kachka reached out and grabbed Brannie’s arm . . . and that’s when everything went particularly strange.

“No, no, no, no, nooooo!” Brannie abruptly screeched, yanking her arm away from a stunned Kachka. “None of you are getting me on that fucking death trap!”

“Branwen!” Keita barked.

“I’ll die here, thank you! Here on land! You can go out there”—she waved her hands wildly in front of her—“and die on the open seas! I’m staying right here! Right here until the end of time!”

Mouths open, Aidan and Keita looked at each other, the princess’s eyes as wide as his own, he was sure.

Kachka leaned forward and told them calmly, “Could be wrong, dragons, but I think mighty warrior . . . terrified of ocean.”

* * *

Branwen couldn’t think straight. She just knew—knew!—she wasn’t getting on that death trap and allowing it to drag her out into the middle of an angry ocean where they might or might not get to the other side.

No. No! Never!

His hands raised, Aidan tried that soft voice thing he did when he was trying to calm something out of control. Like a horse. Or a stampeding elk. Or Annwyl.

But Brannie knew. She was not crazed! She knew exactly what was going on and she wasn’t about to let anyone convince her otherwise! Even Aidan!

“Bran—”

“Nooooo!” she screamed in his face. “I’m not listening! I’m never listening! I will not allow any of you to drag me to my death!”

Aidan backed up. “All right,” he said to Keita. “I’m out.”

“Typical male,” Keita complained with a sigh. “Completely useless!”

Then Brannie’s tiny cousin swung her fist and . . . that was the last thing Brannie remembered.

* * *

Aidan watched the back of Branwen’s head collide with the wood crate before her body slipped to the ground.

And all that from one punch.

From Keita.

Now he and Kachka Shestakova gawked at the dragoness as she brushed one hand against another.

“Do you mean that?” Keita asked when she realized they were staring, her punching hand gesturing to a still knocked-out Branwen. “The first thing my father ever taught me was how to handle a male who didn’t understand the word no. And in the end, the difference between a persistent male and a crazed Branwen is negligible.” She smiled and motioned to the ship. “Now . . . shall we?”