He lowered her carefully—again, as if she were fragile glass. She smoothed the skirt she insisted on wearing over leather leggings and nodded at Talwyn’s father. “Uncle Fearghus.”
He put his arm around his niece’s shoulders and hugged her close. “My little Rhi. I’m sorry you were hurt.”
“I’m fine, Uncle. And thank you for caring,” she added, her eyes widening at Talwyn.
“What did you want me to do while you were bleeding from the eyes? Lick it off?”
“Och! You’re disgusting.”
“And you’re a spoiled brat!”
“I’m spoiled?”
“Daddy!” Talan called out, barreling through the tent flap, arms spread wide, his trajectory straight for their father.
But her father was fast as well and he held out his arm, palm up, his expression cautionary.
“No,” Fearghus told Talan.
“Just a hug.”
“No.”
“I bet you hugged Talwyn,” Talan accused.
“I love her.”
Talwyn laughed at that as Rhi quickly stepped between father and son. Although she didn’t really have to. Talan enjoyed tormenting their father with forced affection. It made Fearghus the Destroyer incredibly uncomfortable, and anything that made their stoic father uncomfortable entertained her brother endlessly.
“We don’t have time for this,” Rhi announced. “We are in grave trouble here, and we need a plan. Yes?”
Fearghus nodded. “There already is a plan.”
Talan immediately looked at her, but all Talwyn could do was shrug at his unasked question.
“What plan is that?” Talan asked.
“We weren’t given full details. Not yet,” Briec admitted. “But it will involve our father. Bercelak the Great will be joining the battle.”
There was a long moment of silence as the youngest of the family let the information their fathers had imparted to them sink in. Then they each had their own reaction.
Talwyn swung her fist, gritted her teeth, and growled, “Yessssssss!”
Talan cringed like he’d been kicked in the balls.
And Rhi burst into copious tears, wailing, “Father, nooooooo!”
* * *
“They left us here to die,” Uther said again. “Where’s the loyalty?”
“They left the horses. I’m sure they’ll be back.” Caswyn let his friend use his working arm to lift him up enough to get a drink of the stream water he so desperately needed.
He was just about to take a sip when small hands slapped the metal cup from Uther’s hands.
“Oy!” Uther barked, until he saw who stood before them. “Princess Keita?”
“Don’t drink from the stream.” She held out her hand and snapped at Brannie and Aidan, who were walking toward them all—from where? Uther had no idea, but Aidan carried chain mail armor and boots. “Give me one of your canteens, Branwen.”
Handing the canteen to Aidan, Brannie motioned for him to help Uther while she kept walking.
And she continued walking until she reached the princess. That’s when she spun Keita around, slipped her hands under her arms, and lifted the princess off the ground until they were at eye level.
“Don’t think for a moment, cousin, that you are in charge. Because you’re not.”
“I’m a princess! And put me down, you giantess!”
Brannie shook Keita hard, shocking the royal into near-silence.
“Why, you—”
“Listen well, cousin, this little adventure that is pulling me away from my troops, from my friends, and kin, will be run by me. The Mì-runach report to me. You report to me. That is the only way this is happening. If you fight me on this . . . if you get lippy, complain, try to poison us—”
“I just saved them from poisoning!”
“—or get on my nerves in any way—”
“What?” Keita boldly demanded. “What will you do to me? Kill me? Scar me? Do you think there’s really anything that you, peasant, can do to me? A daughter of the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar!”
“I’ll tell your father . . . everything.”
The princess, dangling from her much larger cousin’s hands, snorted a laugh.
“Tell him what? My father has no delusions about me. He already knows everything about—”
“He knows you poisoned him?”
Keita’s eyes widened, her mouth hanging open. “Wha-what?”
“Oh, yes. I know about that. All those days poor Uncle Bercelak was sick . . . after eating one of your victims.”
“That was an accident.”
“And poisoning a horse in the first place? What is wrong with you?”
“I needed a test subject! It never occurred to me Daddy would eat it.”
“You didn’t even tell him why he was sick.” She “tsk’d” her cousin. “How many elders did Uncle Bercelak kill thinking they were the ones who had him poisoned?”
Keita’s eyes narrowed into slits. “I don’t remember.”
Brannie smiled. “I do. So let’s not forget our place, shall we? This is a military operation and royals don’t run those unless they are warriors like your brothers. Or a Battle Witch like your sister. So you, cousin, will do what I tell you to do, when I tell you to do it. Or Uncle Bercelak will find out what a bitch of a daughter he truly has. Understand?”
“Perfectly.”
Brannie pulled her hands back and the princess fell to the ground hard and on her ass.
Glaring up at Brannie, Keita snarled, “Cow!”
“Viper.”
“Brannie,” Aidan said. “We need to get somewhere safe . . . and with untainted water. Caswyn needs a healer, I’m afraid.”
“No, no, my brother,” Caswyn choked out. “My ancestors are waiting for me on the other side. Just let me—”
“Oh, shut up!” Brannie snapped, grabbing some of the chain mail armor and yanking it on. “If you think, for a second, Caswyn the Butcher, that you’ll be getting out of this shitty little assignment except on the end of my spear, you’re gravely mistaken. Die on your own time! Now let’s move out!”
* * *
They took what they needed from the original traveling party, although Brannie was quite disappointed in the weapons. The guards only had swords and eating knives, and the workmanship on all did not meet the Cadwaladr’s very high standard.
“I could probably wipe me ass with these and not even scratch this frail human skin,” she muttered . . . more than once.
But Aidan was just glad they had something to protect themselves with. He hated walking around without weapons. Two of his best mates were weak and vulnerable, and now they had a royal to protect.
Aidan was grateful, though, that it was Branwen the Awful who was traveling with him on this mission. She was, truly, the best warrior he knew, and if anyone could help him get his mates and Keita the Viper out of this alive, it was Branwen.
But she was miserable and he hated that. She was ruthlessly loyal to her troops and he knew that leaving them during what would likely turn into a monumental battle would eat her up inside. There was nothing to do about it, though. The queen had given her orders and it was their duty to obey.
Unfortunately that didn’t mean Brannie wouldn’t complain every step of the way....
“I couldn’t even be stuck with a useful royal.” Brannie fixed the saddle on the carriage horse she’d claimed as her own. “No, no. Gods forbid I’d get a Fearghus or Briec or even a Gwenvael. Instead I get the most useless of the lot. Keita the Do Nothing.”
Keita’s eyes narrowed on Brannie’s vulnerable back and Aidan quickly stepped to the royal’s side, afraid she was moments from shoving some vicious poison down her cousin’s throat.
“Why don’t you ride with me, Princess Keita?” he asked, even while he pushed her toward his horse. “There are only four horses and Branwen will have her hands full managing my two wounded mates.”
“Fine.” Keita lifted her skirts and moved toward the horse.
“So sorry, Aidan,” Brannie scoffed, “that you have to be bothered with such a useless She-dragon.”