The Abominations.

Although Gaius didn’t really think of them like that. They were just the offspring of dragons and humans, which didn’t automatically make them evil.

“The Chramnesind cult has sent these slaughter groups to temples and monasteries all across my lands,” Annwyl said. “And they’ve been going in and”—she sighed, deeply—“purifying the worshippers and destroying the temples.”

“But you don’t think that’s simply in the name of their god.”

“No. Everyone else does, but I can’t help but think they’re after something. Now they’ve taken you . . . thinking you had something.” She leaned forward a bit, stared into his eyes. “Whatever they’re trying to find, Gaius, we need to find the bloody thing first.”

And he knew, in his bones, that she was absolutely right.

With his arm slung around his daughter’s shoulders, Fearghus the Destroyer walked into the Great Hall of the place he lived in with his mate. It wasn’t his home. That was his cave in Dark Plains. There, he could be his true self. A happy, relaxed black dragon with a mate and daughter he adored and a male offspring he greatly tolerated.

But when he was here, when he was in Garbhán Isle, he was Prince Fearghus, First Born Son of the Dragonwitch Queen Rhiannon and Direct Heir to her throne.

A position he could honestly not care less about. Annwyl was the true leader. She loved her people. Risked everything for their care, for their protection. And because of her loyalty to her people—and his undying love of her willingness to cut off the head of anyone who threatened those she protected—Fearghus put up with living among so many bloody people . . . and kin. Gods . . . so damn many of his kin.

It was a never-ending nightmare. They never seemed to leave. And even if they did . . . more came to replace them. The Cadwaladrs, his father’s side of the family . . . an endless supply of annoying dragon kin to pluck his last black dragon nerve.

“Father!” his male heir greeted him, arms thrown wide. Instinctually, Fearghus reared back.

“No hugs?” his son asked, appearing as annoying as Fearghus’s brother Gwenvael, who watched from the stairs, one of his six daughters planted on his shoulders, her small hands resting on her father’s head, the pair smiling together as they viewed the family reunion before them.

“Why do you torture me so?” Fearghus asked. “I let you live. Wasn’t that enough?”

“Fine. No hug. How about a kiss?”

When Fearghus sighed, his daughter stepped in.

“Leave off.”

“Is it wrong for a son to want some affection from his own father?”

“You don’t want affection. You probably made some bet with that one.” She pointed at Gwenvael, who gasped in horror, pressing his hand against his chest.

“But, niece! How can you say such a thing to a beloved uncle? Do you not adore me?”

Talwyn let out a sigh, glanced off, and muttered, “I am so afraid I’m truly about to hurt your feelings, Uncle Gwenvael.”

Aye. This was his girl! Fearghus couldn’t be prouder.

“Be nice to Uncle Gwenvael,” the boy chastised. “He’s the only male of the family who didn’t assume I was replaced at birth with someone else’s more annoying offspring.”

“I’m still not sure,” Talwyn snarled, and her brother’s eyes narrowed.

Fearghus took a step back once they had each other in a headlock and quickly moved over to his niece Rhi. She stood by her father, Briec, tall and regal and astoundingly beautiful.

Fearghus hugged her. “Welcome home, little one,” he said, kissing the top of her head.

Her arms were tight around him, her hugs always as strong as her nature was soft. His sweet niece didn’t like fights. Didn’t like anger. She wanted everyone to love everyone else.

Unfortunately, she had been born into the wrong family for that sort of life outlook.

“I’m so glad to be back, Uncle Fearghus. But I don’t know how long we can stay.”

“Why are you here now? I thought you were trapped with that old bit—”

“Uncle Fearghus,” she cut in, one silver eyebrow raised. “She’s not that bad.”

“Oh, sweet child . . .” He hugged her again. Because only his sweet niece could see the best in the evilest of She-dragons, Brigida the Foul. That took some deep understanding, which the rest of them were incapable of.

“By the by, brother,” Gwenvael suddenly stated as he swung his giggling daughter off his shoulders and tossed her casually in the air. “The good King Gaius is here as well. Came with the Riders.”

Fearghus stated the obvious. “I don’t care.”

The days of war with the Irons was over, so what did he care if that one-eyed prick came to—

“He’s with Annwyl. In the war room. Alone.”

Again, Fearghus shrugged. So the prick lost his head to Annwyl’s blade. He wouldn’t be the first nor the—

“She remembered his name.”

Fearghus blinked, surprised by that. “What?”

His brother shrugged, trying to appear innocent. “She remembered his name. And . . . what did you say, little one?” he asked his daughter. But she’d disappeared. While the twins continued to fight, the rest of them glanced around, trying to find the child.

Then, smoke swirled around Gwenvael and his daughter was back on his shoulders.

He squinted up at her. “I thought I told you only to do that when we’re alone.”

“Sorry, Daddy. I forgot.”

Fearghus glanced at Briec. The brothers had noticed the growing powers of Gwenvael’s Five, and they didn’t know what to say about it. It wasn’t like either of them could judge. Not after Fearghus’s twins had shown a willingness to kill from a few days after their birth and Briec’s sweet Rhi had been able to throw grown adults out of a room with a mere wave of her hand.

But what was missing from Gwenvael’s Five was something that had meant so much to Fearghus when his twins were growing up. The balance that Rhi provided them. The three together were powerful, but their energies combined kept them from being something he would eventually have to destroy.

The Five . . . they didn’t balance each other out. Instead, they seemed to work as one, and that created a power that concerned both Fearghus and Briec. Two dragons who rarely agreed on much of anything.

“Auntie Annwyl took the Rebel King gently by the hand and led him down the hall to her private chambers . . . while knowing his name,” Gwenvael’s daughter said.

Talwyn abruptly pulled away from her brother and glared down at Gwenvael as Rhi “tsk-tsk’d.”

“I don’t know why you’re looking at me like that. Her mother taught her to be so observant.”

“But Auntie Dagmar uses her knowledge for the right reasons,” Talwyn argued. “Not just to fuck with family members.”

“Oooooh,” the little girl chastised. “I’m telling Mummy you said a bad word.”

Talwyn took a step forward, tossing her hair off her face with a rough shake of her head.

“Do you know who I am?” Talwyn asked the child.

“Yes,” the little girl replied. “You’re the one my sister Arlais is going to kill one day so she can take your throne.”