“You give up too easy, boy.”
“I know. I saw the axe and I panicked. But let’s try again.”
Bercelak nodded. “Aye. We’ll try again.”
Picking his sword back up, Frederik readjusted his shield and his stance. He nodded at Bercelak.
But before the dragon could make his first swing, Addolgar dropped from the skies into the training ring with them, several Cadwaladr right behind him.
“Brother,” Addolgar greeted happily. “And small Northland human.”
“What have you got there?” Bercelak asked about the squirming bundle Addolgar held.
“This is the Baron Roscommon.”
Bercelak sneered in disgust. “The one who killed old Costentyn?”
“That’s the one. Celyn told me to take him to Annwyl since he’s one of her subjects.”
“Annwyl’s in her library. Take him to her.”
“I’d suggest,” Frederik cut in, “that we not do that.”
The brothers looked at each other and back at Frederik.
“Really?” Bercelak asked. “You suggest we not do that? Then what do you suggest that we do?”
“Aunt Dagmar has worked hard to . . . tamp down a few of Queen Annwyl’s more endearing . . . qualities.”
Addolgar chuckled at that, but his brother just snorted and said, “Get to your point, boy.”
“I’m concerned that once she knows what happened with Roscommon and his people, she will react harshly.”
“The boy’s got a point, brother. Celyn figures the people of that city have already suffered enough with most of the able-bodied men dead. But Annwyl may feel different.”
“All right, fine. We’ll leave Annwyl out of it.”
Frederik smiled. “Thank you, Bercelak.”
After grunting at him—something Frederik was sadly used to from his own kin—Bercelak again motioned to the sack that held Roscommon. “Take him to Rhiannon. She hasn’t had a snack that begs in years.”
“Will do.”
Addolgar and those who’d flown with him took to the air again. After watching him leave, Bercelak turned around.
With a shrug, he asked Frederik, “What? What are you looking at me like that for?”
Bram was busy scanning some information he’d received from Keita’s spy network. It was fascinating and disturbing reading.
So fascinating, he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until he sat back in his chair to stretch his tired shoulders.
“Ahhh!”
Addolgar raised dark silver eyebrows. “You always were jumpy.”
“Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I didn’t. I’ve been sitting here, eating and drinking, for the last thirty minutes.”
“Oh.”
He jerked his thumb behind him. “You left those front gates open again. Didn’t Ghleanna tell you not to leave those gates open?”
“She has. Just anyone can walk in.”
“Exactly,” Addolgar replied . . . oblivious.
“So . . . why are you here?”
“Celyn wanted me to give this to you. It’s Costentyn’s journals.”
Bram took the two large leather-bound tomes from Addolgar. “Thank you for bringing them to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Bram flipped one of the books open, and as he scanned the information, he asked Addolgar, “How is Celyn?”
“Good. He handled this well.”
Bram smiled, feeling immense pride.
“I heard you have visitors,” Addolgar said.
“I do. The Rebel King and his sister are here.”
“Why? Why aren’t they at Devenallt Mountain . . . or Garbhán Isle?”
Bram glanced up from Costentyn’s journal.
Addolgar cleared his throat. “All right. Good point.”
Bram went back to scanning the material. “The King has meetings in the Southlands, but he didn’t want to leave his sister behind in the Provinces. There have been threats against her life.”
“Not surprising.”
“He wants her to stay under Annwyl’s protection until he’s done and they can return to the Provinces together.”
“Annwyl? Why not Rhiannon?”
Bram sighed, glanced up at Addolgar. “Do I really have to keep looking up at you?”
Addolgar shrugged. “Sorry.”
Returning to the journal, “I’ll escort them over to Garbhán Isle soon.”
Addolgar chuckled. “Bet you never thought you’d be the one escorting anyone anywhere, huh?”
“Not really.” Bram abruptly sat up. “Speaking of death threats . . .”
“What is it?” his brother-by-mating asked.
“Costentyn was worried that plans are being put into place to assassinate someone of great power. Probably one or both of the queens.”
“Why did he think that? I mean, other than the obvious?”
“Rumors he was hearing in town. Recent rumors.”
Bram sat back in his seat, one hand stroking his chin.
“What do you think we should do?” Addolgar asked.
“Let everyone know, of course. But other than that all we can do is wait.”
“Yeah . . . except Bercelak’s not good with that. The waiting.”
Bram sighed. “Yes. This we all know a little too well.”
It took them two days to reach the territory of the Steppes Tribes and then another whole day to reach the Black Bear Riders, Elina’s tribe.
“I know. I saw the axe and I panicked. But let’s try again.”
Bercelak nodded. “Aye. We’ll try again.”
Picking his sword back up, Frederik readjusted his shield and his stance. He nodded at Bercelak.
But before the dragon could make his first swing, Addolgar dropped from the skies into the training ring with them, several Cadwaladr right behind him.
“Brother,” Addolgar greeted happily. “And small Northland human.”
“What have you got there?” Bercelak asked about the squirming bundle Addolgar held.
“This is the Baron Roscommon.”
Bercelak sneered in disgust. “The one who killed old Costentyn?”
“That’s the one. Celyn told me to take him to Annwyl since he’s one of her subjects.”
“Annwyl’s in her library. Take him to her.”
“I’d suggest,” Frederik cut in, “that we not do that.”
The brothers looked at each other and back at Frederik.
“Really?” Bercelak asked. “You suggest we not do that? Then what do you suggest that we do?”
“Aunt Dagmar has worked hard to . . . tamp down a few of Queen Annwyl’s more endearing . . . qualities.”
Addolgar chuckled at that, but his brother just snorted and said, “Get to your point, boy.”
“I’m concerned that once she knows what happened with Roscommon and his people, she will react harshly.”
“The boy’s got a point, brother. Celyn figures the people of that city have already suffered enough with most of the able-bodied men dead. But Annwyl may feel different.”
“All right, fine. We’ll leave Annwyl out of it.”
Frederik smiled. “Thank you, Bercelak.”
After grunting at him—something Frederik was sadly used to from his own kin—Bercelak again motioned to the sack that held Roscommon. “Take him to Rhiannon. She hasn’t had a snack that begs in years.”
“Will do.”
Addolgar and those who’d flown with him took to the air again. After watching him leave, Bercelak turned around.
With a shrug, he asked Frederik, “What? What are you looking at me like that for?”
Bram was busy scanning some information he’d received from Keita’s spy network. It was fascinating and disturbing reading.
So fascinating, he didn’t realize he wasn’t alone until he sat back in his chair to stretch his tired shoulders.
“Ahhh!”
Addolgar raised dark silver eyebrows. “You always were jumpy.”
“Don’t sneak up on me.”
“I didn’t. I’ve been sitting here, eating and drinking, for the last thirty minutes.”
“Oh.”
He jerked his thumb behind him. “You left those front gates open again. Didn’t Ghleanna tell you not to leave those gates open?”
“She has. Just anyone can walk in.”
“Exactly,” Addolgar replied . . . oblivious.
“So . . . why are you here?”
“Celyn wanted me to give this to you. It’s Costentyn’s journals.”
Bram took the two large leather-bound tomes from Addolgar. “Thank you for bringing them to me.”
“You’re welcome.”
Bram flipped one of the books open, and as he scanned the information, he asked Addolgar, “How is Celyn?”
“Good. He handled this well.”
Bram smiled, feeling immense pride.
“I heard you have visitors,” Addolgar said.
“I do. The Rebel King and his sister are here.”
“Why? Why aren’t they at Devenallt Mountain . . . or Garbhán Isle?”
Bram glanced up from Costentyn’s journal.
Addolgar cleared his throat. “All right. Good point.”
Bram went back to scanning the material. “The King has meetings in the Southlands, but he didn’t want to leave his sister behind in the Provinces. There have been threats against her life.”
“Not surprising.”
“He wants her to stay under Annwyl’s protection until he’s done and they can return to the Provinces together.”
“Annwyl? Why not Rhiannon?”
Bram sighed, glanced up at Addolgar. “Do I really have to keep looking up at you?”
Addolgar shrugged. “Sorry.”
Returning to the journal, “I’ll escort them over to Garbhán Isle soon.”
Addolgar chuckled. “Bet you never thought you’d be the one escorting anyone anywhere, huh?”
“Not really.” Bram abruptly sat up. “Speaking of death threats . . .”
“What is it?” his brother-by-mating asked.
“Costentyn was worried that plans are being put into place to assassinate someone of great power. Probably one or both of the queens.”
“Why did he think that? I mean, other than the obvious?”
“Rumors he was hearing in town. Recent rumors.”
Bram sat back in his seat, one hand stroking his chin.
“What do you think we should do?” Addolgar asked.
“Let everyone know, of course. But other than that all we can do is wait.”
“Yeah . . . except Bercelak’s not good with that. The waiting.”
Bram sighed. “Yes. This we all know a little too well.”
It took them two days to reach the territory of the Steppes Tribes and then another whole day to reach the Black Bear Riders, Elina’s tribe.
