“I don’t know.”

He tilted his head and she held up her hands. “I’ll find her. I’ll find her.” She pushed past him. “Mean,” she snapped before she walked out.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, Éibhear walked around the tent. It seemed Izzy was still a messy female. She had weapons everywhere. And every kind. She didn’t just have one battle axe, but battle axes from all the different armies she’d faced off against. Plus an array of long swords, short swords, curved swords, serrated swords . . . the woman liked swords. Blood-and-gore-covered clothes littered the floor and lots of missives from her queen and other generals in Annwyl’s army were scattered about. Yet there was only one book, on the floor, right by the head of the bed. It was a history on the first war against the Iron dragons in the west led by Éibhear’s royal grandfather.

Crouching down, Éibhear flipped the cover open and read the inscription.

For Izzy. Thought you’d like to read how it all began. Thank you for everything. You’ll always have my loyalty and I’ll always have the memory of you challenging a head-licking wolf. ~Gaius

Gaius? Gaius the Rebel King from the west? Éibhear briefly remembered being introduced to the Rebel King a few hours after he’d killed the Rebel King’s bastard uncle, Overlord Thracius. But at the time, Éibhear had been so filled with rage and pain about the loss of his friend, Austell the Red, he wasn’t sure he’d know the dragon if he tripped over him in the market.

But, more importantly, why was the Rebel King sending books to Izzy? Especially when Izzy rarely bothered to read? And not only books but books with rather affectionate and strangely bizarre inscriptions.

Head-licking wolf?

Éibhear heard approaching footsteps but knew from the sound that it wasn’t Izzy or his cousin. The tent flap was pulled back and a human male walked in.

“Izzy, we need to talk about . . .” His words faded off when Éibhear slowly got to his feet and stood to his full human height.

“Oh,” the man said, staring up at Éibhear. “I was, uh, looking for the general.”

“Not here.”

“Do you know when she’ll be back?”

Éibhear shrugged.

“Oh.”

“I can give her a message.” Especially since he was curious who this man was.

“No. I’ll just wait.”

“Okay. We’ll just wait.” Éibhear crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the human male . . . and he kept staring.

“And not only that but then you—”

Before Izzy could go on, Rhydderch Hael rolled to his stomach and bellowed, “By the love of all that is me, shut up!”

Izzy gazed up at the god, working hard not to smile or outright laugh.

Closing his eyes, he took in several deep breaths.

“And yet,” he finally said, much more calmly, “after all this time, you still manage to irritate the living f**k out of me, Iseabail the Dangerous.”

“You asked me if I had anything to—”

“Yes, I know!” Another deep breath, eyes still closed. After some thirty seconds or so, when he was once again calm, he said, “I am well aware what I said to you, Izzy. And I know over the years I’ve disappointed you.”

“Understatement.”

Violet eyes snapped open and locked on her, and Izzy quickly focused on a tree in the distance.

“As I was saying, I know I’ve disappointed you, but you still owe me a blood debt.”

Izzy returned her gaze to the god, surprised. “Blood debt?”

“You made a promise to me.”

“When I was sixteen.”

“Your mother’s life for your commitment to me,” he reminded her.

“You were the one who killed her!” To this day Izzy still sometimes woke up in a cold sweat from the nightmare of seeing her mother sacrifice herself to Rhydderch Hael to save Izzy. A price Talaith had willingly paid—so how could Izzy do any different?

Yet Rhydderch Hael waved all that away with his claw. “Nitpicking. I restored your mother’s life.”

“You haven’t changed at all, have you?”

“Iseabail, I’m a god. I don’t have to change. For anyone. Ever. That’s the wondrous beauty that is being a god.”

“And you can take your wondrous beauty and shove it up your godly as—”

“Iseabail.”

“She’s been gone a long time, eh?”

Éibhear, who hadn’t stopped staring at the man, grunted in reply.

“Maybe she went to track down ogres with the others.”

Another grunt.

“Maybe I should come back later.”

Minor grunt.

The man’s gaze moved around the tent in an attempt not to look at Éibhear. “Soooo . . . you’re a friend of Izzy’s?”

No grunt, instead Éibhear narrowed his eyes and the human male took a step back.

“How could you think I would not one day call in this debt?” Rhydderch Hael asked, appearing truly perplexed. “You still wear my mark on your shoulder.”

She glanced at the dragon brand that he’d burned into the flesh of her upper bicep all those years ago. “I just assumed it was there permanently whether you planned to use me or not. Besides”—she shrugged—“it’s a nice-looking thing if you like dragons. I like dragons. Just don’t like you.”