How to Drive a Dragon Crazy
Page 20

Something strong and powerful grabbed Éibhear by the hair and yanked him around.
“What the bloody hells are you up to?”
Éibhear gazed at the female cousin yelling at him. “Did you just do that?” he asked, fascinated.
“Who else?”
“Gods, you’re strong. Ever think of joining the Mì-runach?”
“Unlike you lot, I actually obey orders from all my commanding officers, not just my queen. So I don’t think I’ll fit in too well.”
“We follow orders from our commanding officers,” Aidan argued while squeezing the head of an ogre until it popped like a grape. “Or at least from Angor. We simply do it in our own time and in our own”—he shook his claw to get rid of the ogre blood and flesh—“way.”
“Fascinating,” Brannie sneered before turning away from Aidan. “I asked you a question, cousin. Now answer it.”
Huh. His cousin had grown pushy over the years. He might find that annoying at some point.
“I have a duty to get her home,” he said.
“By getting in her way?”
“She’s being difficult. If she’d just do what I told her to . . .”
Branwen held up her hand. “Just so you know,” she said, “you sound exactly like your father.”
Hurt, Éibhear asked, “Why are you being so mean?”
“Because that’s exactly how you’re acting. You’re following right behind him. Just like your brothers did. You going to demand a blood debt now, too, just like Briec did with Izzy’s mum?”
Éibhear thought a moment and asked, “If I do what do I get out of it?”
She reached for his hair again, but Éibhear stumbled back, warding her off with his claws. “All right. All right, I was just kidding.”
“What do you really want, Éibhear?”
“Just to take her home. That’s what I committed to.”
“And?”
He shrugged. “And a chance to say I’m sorry.”
“This Celyn shit? Again?”
“I promise, I’m not here for that. I swear,” he insisted when her eyes narrowed. “I just want to say I’m sorry and be done with it.”
“That’s all?”
“That’s all. Talk to her for me?” He lowered his head a bit, fluttered his eyes. “Please?”
“Och. That was just appalling, Éibhear. Although you’re obviously not following in Gwenvael’s footsteps because he could have pulled that off!”
Brannie stomped back to Izzy’s side, her tail impaling fleeing ogres as she passed. She’d shifted when she’d gone to find Éibhear. Not for safety from the ogres but because she wanted to look him in the eyes when she spoke to him.
Once near Izzy, Brannie shifted to human and grabbed the clothes she’d left at her cousin’s feet, quickly pulling them on.
“Well?” Izzy demanded before Brannie even got her leggings on.
Brannie glanced up, her lips slowly curling into a smile.
“What?”
Grabbing her chain-mail shirt, Brannie stood tall, slipping her arms inside the protective garment. “His orders are to get you home. And, as Mì-runach, he’s committed to that. There’ll be no deterring him.”
“Why are you smiling?”
She pulled the shirt over her head and down her torso. “He also would like to take this opportunity to apologize.”
Confused, Izzy asked, “Apologize? For what?” When Brannie’s smile only grew . . . “Good gods! That was ages ago. Ages!”
Brannie, now dressed, retrieved her weapons. Laughing, she said, “I know. But for some reason he feels the need to say it.”
“After all this time?”
“No matter his royal lineage, cousin, Éibhear the Contemptible is still a Cadwaladr male in his heart . . . his soul.”
“Which means what?” Izzy turned and used her long sword to impale an ogre that had been coming up behind her.
“It means that he won’t be satisfied until he gets what he wants.”
Wiping dark green blood from her face, she again faced her cousin. “To apologize? Can’t he just do that and go? I assure you I can make it to Garbhán Isle without his or his friends’ help.”
“Come, Izzy. You know better. You’ve lived among my brethren.” Brannie grabbed the blade from Izzy’s grasp and swiped it through the air. Izzy ducked, the blade missing her head by inches, but the ogre who’d been running up to them from the left was cut nearly in half from left hip to right shoulder. “You know the way of things, my cousin. An apology is only part of it. He seems to believe he wants forgiveness. That’s what I saw in his eyes.”
“And?”
She handed the blade back to Izzy. “And I say you give it to him.”
“And he’ll leave me be?”
“Oh, no.” Brannie giggled, sounding like a small child rather than the feared warrior dragon she’d grown into. “Ease is not something a Cadwaladr male understands or knows how to deal with . . . which is why you should give him as much ease and forgiveness as you can stomach.”
Izzy shook her head, her own smile blossoming. “You are a callous cow, Branwen the Awful. A cruel, callous cow . . . and I adore you like the suns.”
Branwen shrugged, black eyes twinkling, “And I you, cousin, for together we are a true blood-filled nightmare—which I find nothing but entertaining!”