And then there was that female. He knew that female from reputation alone. The dreaded Branwen the Awful, a captain in the Dragon Queen’s Army. It was said her cackle had rung out as Didacus’s cousins were put to the spear, the sword, or the cross.

It was that heartless female chasing him up the hill right now, while the Mì-runach took down the soldiers who had once been loyal not only to Didacus but to the mighty Overlord Thracius, rightful ruler of the Empire and Didacus’s beloved uncle.

He’d sworn on his uncle’s bones that he would destroy his treacherous twin cousins himself, but even he had to admit he’d underestimated not only the Rebel King but that sister of his. His cousin Vateria should have killed the little bitch when she had the chance, but they hadn’t foreseen what a force the pair of them together would be.

Didacus reached the top of the hill, ready to shift to his natural form so that he could fly to safety, but just as he made it over, something slammed into him, tackling him to the ground.

Big hands pinned his shoulders down and Didacus looked up into the only eye Thracius had left the Rebel King.

“Hello, cousin,” Gaius said to him, grinning.

“Bastard!”

“Now, now. Tone.”

Panting, Branwen the Awful reached the top of the hill, her blood-covered blade out and ready.

“Want me to take his head?” she asked like she was asking if the king wanted tea.

“No,” Gaius said . . . much to Didacus’s horror. “I have a few questions for my cousin.” Gaius leaned in, leering. “Let’s get reacquainted, dear Didacus. We have so much to catch up on, don’t we?”

Then, the big bastard reared his head back while lifting Didacus up and—

After head butting his cousin until he passed out, Gaius released Didacus’s leather jerkin and let him drop to the ground.

“What do you think this one will tell us that the others didn’t?”

Gaius stood, rubbed his nose. “Didacus was a favorite of Thracius. Loyal to him unto death. If anyone knows where to find Vateria . . . he will.”

“You really hate her.”

“Can you blame me?”

Brannie shook her head. “Not really. I just want to make sure you’re not becoming what me mum calls ‘obsessive.’ She says obsession is the one thing that will weaken any warrior.”

“She’s right. But I promised my sister. I owe her Vateria’s head on a platter.”

Gaius kicked his cousin, watching him roll down the hill toward the Mì-runach, who were busy finishing off the few soldiers who’d been traveling with him.

It had been a good decision he and his sister had made. Sending Gaius out with the Mì-runach and Branwen the Awful. Brutal warriors, all, there was never a fight they backed away from. Nor did they question where they were going or why. The most Gaius got was Brannie asking him his logic behind certain tactical choices, but she was always up for the ride. He really liked that about her.

Before they’d left the Provinces, Gaius had had the royal blacksmiths fit them all with special armor. It vaguely resembled that worn by his centurions but not enough to make them stand out. They looked like soldiers for hire who made decent coin from their exploits. And, more important, their armor, like their weapons, grew with them. If they shifted to human, their armor shifted with them. And when they shifted back to dragon, it went with them also. That way, they never had to worry about losing their armor if they suddenly had to go from human to dragon.

“We’re hungry,” Caswyn complained once Gaius and Brannie were in earshot. Of course, they were always hungry.

Rolling her eyes, the temper-growing-shorter-by-the-day captain snarled, “Then get something to eat.”

“Don’t have to snap,” the Mì-runach snarled back.

She nearly had her sword out when Aidan stepped between the pair. “There’s some sheep over that hill. Over there. Go get some, brother.”

Growling—or perhaps that was their collective stomachs—Caswyn and Uther wandered off.

“And bring us something back.” Aidan smiled down at Brannie. “I’m sure you’re hungry, too.”

“Shut up.” She reached down and grabbed Didacus by his jerkin, dragging him off toward the horses.

Aidan smirked at the king. “She adores me, you know.”

“So that’s how the Southlanders get by.” Aidan frowned at that, so Gaius added, “Delusion.”

Aidan laughed. “Well, it works for our queens. . . .” He motioned to Didacus and Brannie. “Are we going to question this one?”

“Yes.”

“We’ll have to wait until Caswyn gets back from eating. He’s the one who’s been trained in the art of torture.”

“My Uncle Thracius had whole detachments trained in torture. I never saw it as an art form, though.”

“It is. If you want to keep them alive long enough to get the information.” He motioned to Brannie and Didacus. “I’d best go with her. If he wakes up and gets a bit mouthy . . .”

Gaius chuckled and nodded.

Feeling a little worn down these days, Gaius made his way over to a large tree stump. He sat down and stopped to dig his hands into his hair, resting his elbows on his knees.

He honestly didn’t know how much more of this he could do. He missed his home. He missed his sister. He even missed Aunt Lætitia. And while Brannie and Aidan were tolerable enough, the other two Mì-runach put Gaius’s fangs on edge. The constant bickering. The less-than-intelligent discussions.

As a son of the Sovereign Empire, Gaius had no tolerance for stupid dragons. And by gods, those two Mì-runach were just plain stupid.

Plus, he was growing frustrated. Despite hunting down so many of his kin and those loyal to them, Gaius was still no closer to finding Vateria. It was as if she’d vanished. He wanted to believe her dead, but no. If she was dead, Gaius was sure that Aggie would sense it through the lines of magick. They had an unholy connection now. One forged in blood and hatred and the need for vengence.

With the tips of his fingers Gaius briefly scratched his scalp in frustration before dropping his hands. He gazed at the ground, already feeling defeated when he hadn’t even asked Didacus a question yet.

Knowing he couldn’t face his cousin like this, Gaius did the one thing that had helped him get through these months away from home. He thought about Kachka. Just remembering her face always made him feel better. Gods, what he wouldn’t give to have had her riding by his side during all this.

“Do not be so weak, lizard. You will be fine.”

Shocked to hear her voice, Gaius immediately sat up . . . but . . . it wasn’t Kachka. It was some other woman. A woman he’d never seen before.

“Pardon?” he asked, trying to slow down his heart.

“I said, mind if I sit?” She gestured to the stump he was on. He quickly realized this woman did not have the accent of someone from the Outerplains. She also didn’t look like anyone from the Outerplains. She was tall, true. And beautiful. But brown skinned like those of the Desert Lands. Dressed for battle and travel, she smiled down at Gaius.

“Of course.”

He moved over a bit, blew out a breath. He should not have been that excited just to hear Kachka Shestakova’s voice—which he guessed had just been his imagination. What the hell was wrong with him?