“Blow,” she ordered.

After a few hiccups, the girl did as she was told.

“Now what happened?” Izzy asked her.

“They just wouldn’t stop bickering. Either they’re bickering out loud or in my head, but it’s constant. And Daddy just told me I could go shopping with Albrecht and—”

“Who’s Albrecht?”

“Lord Pombray’s son. He gave me flowers the other day and Daddy nearly burned his hand off.”

Izzy’s laugh was out before she could stop it and violet eyes flashed in anger.

“It’s not funny, Iseabail! He was terrified!”

“I’m sure he was,” she said around the laughter, unable to stop.

Rhi stood and began to pace. “You’re as bad as Daddy! The two of you!”

“You know how Daddy is.”

“He won’t let any man near me if they’re not family.”

“Man? Human, dragon, god, or centaur, if it’s male and not blood, Daddy will burn the poor bloke to the ground.”

“I’ll be a virgin forever,” Rhi sobbed.

“Good.”

The sobbing abruptly stopped and her sister stared at her. “What do you mean ‘good’?”

“I mean good. I mean f**king complicates everything.”

Rhi’s lips twitched, a smile fighting its way forth while her cheeks and forehead turned bright red. “Iseabail.”

“And good f**king can ruin your life. So stay a virgin forever. You’ll be much happier that way. Besides, do you really want to be the one to cause all those deaths?”

Rhi’s smile faded. “What do you mean?”

“When Daddy gets his claws on whatever poor male sets his sights on you . . . there will be death. Death after death after death. All at the talons of one wonderful but terribly arrogant silver dragon who adores both his perfect, perfect daughters.”

Her sister’s smile returned, but Izzy couldn’t help but think there was also some relief there. As if she’d thought Izzy had meant something else.

“Gods, I wish he would stop saying that. It sounds awful.”

“I like that he thinks of me as perfect. Despite my hysterical mother’s questionable bloodline.”

Rhi sighed, shook her head. “I truly don’t know how she hasn’t killed him yet.” She blinked, her hand covering her mouth. “I can’t believe I said that. That was a horrible thing to say about Mum and Dad!”

Izzy gazed at her sister. “Whose family do you think you belong to?”

Éibhear tracked Fearghus and Briec down in the war room. Using Gwenvael’s head, he pushed the door open and walked in, tossing Gwenvael next to the big wood table they sat at.

Fearghus and Briec glanced down at a groaning Gwenvael, then immediately went back to their conversation as if they were still alone.

“We have to figure out a course of action,” Briec said. “It can’t go on like this. I feel things building.”

“Mum suggested—”

“No.” Briec looked pointedly at Fearghus. “Absolutely not. Rhi adores Mum and I won’t have her turned into a tiny Rhiannon.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have named her after her.”

Briec snarled. “I did not name my daughter after Mum!”

Éibhear stepped close to the table. “Oy!”

The two males stopped snapping at each other and slowly looked over at Éibhear.

“Is there something you want?” Briec asked.

“Do you have bones in your hair?” Fearghus asked.

Ignoring Fearghus’s question, Éibhear asked, “Don’t you have something to say to me?”

Briec thought a moment then answered, “No.”

“Why are you here?” Fearghus asked.

“My commander thought it was time I came home to visit my loving kin.”

Fearghus frowned. “Which is who exactly?”

Briec laughed and Fearghus shook his head. “No. I mean, who’s your commander?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because I want to know if I can trust his decision to send you back here.”

“His decision to . . . what?” Éibhear took a moment before asking, “You lot had me sent away?”

“It was in your best interest.”

“But mostly our best interest,” Briec clarified. “You were becoming a right prat.”

“And Mum would have been mad if we’d beaten you to death.”

“So you lot had me sent to the Mì-runach?”

“That was Dad’s idea.”

“We suggested the salt mines,” Briec explained. “But Dad was afraid the rest of the troops would turn on you because of your incessant whining and inability to follow orders.”

“Sending you to the Mì-runach was,” Fearghus reiterated, “in your best interest.”

Éibhear pulled off his fur cape and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

“Gods,” Briec gasped. “The bastard’s gotten bigger.”

“I stopped growing five years ago.”

“Not soon enough.”

“Let me ask you,” Éibhear went on, determined to understand all this. “Sending me away . . . that didn’t have anything to do with Izzy, did it?”

Gwenvael looked up from where he still lay on the floor. “It took you ten bloody years to figure that out?”