Using his fist, Uther bashed ogres into flat green disks. It was fun and killed some time.

“There has to be an easier way for you to get women,” Aidan told Éibhear. Aidan was stepping on the ogres while Caswyn was swiping at them with his tail. But Éibhear was just standing there . . . waiting.

“What if she still says no?” Uther asked.

“We should just take her,” Caswyn offered.

Aidan stopped crushing ogres to ask, “Take Izzy the Dangerous?”

“We’re four dragons. She’s one human female. How much trouble can she be?”

Aidan smirked at Éibhear. “You’re a much better storyteller than I.”

Éibhear looked at Caswyn. “When Izzy was seventeen, she—with the slight help of her mother—killed Olgeir of the Olgeirsson Horde. When she was nineteen she fought against the Kyvich witches and lived to tell about it. When she was twenty-and-five, she survived in the Sovereign fighting pits and buried a dragon’s axe into the back of Overlord Thracius, one time ruler of the Irons.”

Caswyn blinked. “Oh.”

“And she’s been marked by Rhydderch Hael himself as his champion.”

“All right then.”

“So, just a thought,” Aidan added. “You may not want to piss her off.”

“You mean like Éibhear does?” Uther asked.

Insulted, Éibhear snapped, “I’m trying to be helpful.” And it only pissed him off more when they all laughed at him.

“Oy!” a voice yelled up at them and they all looked at the human female standing beneath them. She stood tall, a blade in each hand, and covered in ogre’s blood. She showed no fear—Dragonfear or otherwise—of standing before four giant dragons who could easily crush her. And, Uther had to admit, he could see what Éibhear found so intriguing about her. Although there was always something about a female with a sword, wasn’t there . . . ?

“We leave in the morning, when the suns rise,” she told them.

“Well—” Éibhear began.

“Shut up.” Izzy pointed one of her swords at him. “I’m not talking to you.”

“Again?”

“You are a true idiot, Éibhear the Blue,” she snarled and walked off.

“You really have a way with the females,” Aidan told Éibhear.

And the blue dragon smiled. “They do like me.”

Chapter 8

As Izzy had ordered, they left the next morning before the suns were even up. But she’d refused to fly when Éibhear refused to carry her horse and her dog. He knew better than to ask the others to carry the two animals. Dragons were not beasts of burden and Izzy, of all humans, knew this.

Brannie, however, managed to find the four Mì-runach horses that were not only strong enough to carry the weight of a dragon male in human form, but also willing to carry a dragon at all.

They traveled for hours until midday, when they stopped in a wooded area for a quick meal. While they pulled out dried meat from their travel packs, Izzy walked off with that monstrosity she had the nerve to call a dog. That thing had run by Izzy’s side all morning and didn’t even appear winded.

And no one thinks that’s strange?

Since they had some time, Éibhear followed Izzy, tracking her down by a freshwater stream. Her dog was busy splashing around, trying to grab the fish, while she crouched beside it taking in palms-full of water.

“Sure he’s not a bear?” Éibhear asked loudly, not wanting to sneak up on her. He was tired of getting things thrown at him. . . . How did Gwenvael put up with that sort of thing constantly?

“He’s a dog,” she replied, shaking off her wet hands. “I promise.”

Éibhear crouched down beside her and she sighed.

“What do you want, Éibhear?”

He let out a breath and plunged forward. “To apologize.”

“For killing the ogre leader? One of my troops? Or for not taking ‘no’ for an answer?”

“Uh . . . I didn’t know I had to apologize for any of that.”

“You didn’t . . .” She shook her head and stood. “Forget it. Just forget it.”

Éibhear caught her hand. “Don’t go.”

“Why should I stay?” She snatched her hand away. “I don’t even know what the mighty hells you’re apologizing for, and to be honest, I’m not sure I’m in the mood to find out.”

Éibhear stood. “I’m sorry, Izzy. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Even that time you yelled at me in front of my mother about that dagger I borrowed from you?”

“Borrowed? You stole that damn . . .” Éibhear stopped. He would not let her goad him into one of these ridiculous arguments they’d been having since they’d met. “Izzy—”

“Or that time you told my father that Gwenvael was taking me flying behind his back.”

“Your mother made it clear she didn’t want you flying.”

“Or that other time you—”

“All right!” Éibhear blew out a breath. “Gods, woman! I’m trying to apologize.”

“Yes. For everything. Perhaps,” she suggested, “if you narrowed the scope of your all-important apology.”

“Fine. I’m sorry about what happened between you, me, and Celyn.”