Celyn shook his head. “No.”
“I wasn’t asking.”
“I’m not taking Elina back to Annwyl until I’ve had time to—”
“No,” Elina cut in. “I must go and face Queen Annwyl. Let her know how I failed her and Queen Rhiannon.” She glanced at her sister. “She may take my head. I heard she likes to take heads.”
“Does she hack at the neck or—?” Kachka began.
“No, no. She is quite quick. One swipe of her blade and it is over.”
“Well . . . as long as it is quick. Your failure was not so great that you should suffer.”
“You are so good to me, sister.”
Celyn slammed his hands against the table and stood, knocking his chair over. “What bizarre conversation are you two having?”
“I thought we were speaking in your language . . . were we not?”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t understand how you two can sit here and discuss this so casually?”
“I failed. What else is there to say? Now, let us go to face the justifiable wrath of Annwyl the Bloody.” Elina slipped off the table, but her legs nearly gave out, so her sister had to stop her from crumpling to the floor. “I am fine,” she lied. “I am fine.”
“You never could handle your drink, sister.”
“I kept up with you.”
“It is not what you do while drinking. It is what you do after.”
“Get your things and meet me outside the cave entrance,” Brigida ordered.
“You’re coming with us?” Celyn asked the old She-dragon, the idea of the journey growing more and more horrible.
“I long to see my kin again, Celyn the . . . Celyn the . . . what name have you earned, boy?”
“Celyn the Charming.”
The old She-dragon cackled. “Really?”
“I’m growing to loathe you. And I don’t usually say that to anyone.”
“And it’s just beginning,” Brigida promised. “Now outside. And you lot,” she said, pointing at the others with her stick. “You’ve got work to do.”
“What work?” Celyn demanded.
“Don’t like dragons who ask me too many questions,” Brigida announced, walking away.
When Celyn felt Brigida was far enough away, he caught Rhianwen around the waist and moved her off to a corner.
“What’s going on between you lot and Brigida?”
“Nothing you have to worry about it.”
“And yet I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. We’re fine.”
“It’s not really you and the twins I’m worried about. It’s more the world.”
Rhianwen stepped back from him, and Celyn immediately regretted hurting her feelings. He really shouldn’t have sensitive conversations with relatives when he was still a little drunk.
“I . . . we . . . have no intention of destroying the world. No matter what our enemies say.”
“But, Rhianwen—”
She held up her hand, turned her face away, her back ramrod straight. “No, no. I think there’s nothing else to be said. You’ve made your feelings about us quite clear.”
“Tell me, cousin,” Celyn asked, his head pounding too hard to even think of playing this game, “did you get that little performance from Keita or your mother?”
“Neither,” she quipped back, lifting her skirt to flounce off. “Uncle Gwenvael.”
Celyn stepped aside to let her get by, then tossed after her, “That’s nothing to be proud of, you know.”
With her travel pack, bow and quiver on her back, Elina followed Celyn to where he’d left the horses. As soon as she entered the chamber, the Steppes horse trotted over to greet her.
“You have made a bond, sister,” Kachka said from behind her, smiling.
“We have been through much, he and I.”
Saddling up their mounts, the trio took the long walk to the entrance.
Once outside, Elina took in a deep breath. She was already beginning to feel much better.
Brigida waited for them in her human form, a fur cape covering her from head to feet.
“Do we ride or fly?” Celyn asked her. “And I’m really hoping you say fly, because galloping will not be my friend right now.”
“Like your mother, your vision is small.”
“What does that mean?”
“I am too old and too impatient to take bloody days to travel to Garbhán Isle.”
“Which means . . . what? Exactly.”
Staring at Celyn, Brigida raised the hand holding her walking stick. The clouds overhead darkened, lightning suddenly danced across the mountains, and a mighty wind seemed to rise from the ground up.
Kachka gasped as the air in front of them darkened and began to swirl.
With her free hand, Brigida motioned to the swirling air before them. “Go,” she said calmly.
Kachka shrugged and said, “All right.” Leading her horse, she walked until she disappeared.
Elina started to follow, but Celyn held his arm out, blocking her way.
“We’re not getting in that,” he yelped, his normally low voice hitting an abrupt high.
“Always a mummy’s boy, you are,” Brigida mocked.
“I am—ahhhhhhhhhh!” Celyn screamed as Brigida grabbed the scruff of his chain-mail shirt with her free hand and tossed him into the void after Kachka.
“I wasn’t asking.”
“I’m not taking Elina back to Annwyl until I’ve had time to—”
“No,” Elina cut in. “I must go and face Queen Annwyl. Let her know how I failed her and Queen Rhiannon.” She glanced at her sister. “She may take my head. I heard she likes to take heads.”
“Does she hack at the neck or—?” Kachka began.
“No, no. She is quite quick. One swipe of her blade and it is over.”
“Well . . . as long as it is quick. Your failure was not so great that you should suffer.”
“You are so good to me, sister.”
Celyn slammed his hands against the table and stood, knocking his chair over. “What bizarre conversation are you two having?”
“I thought we were speaking in your language . . . were we not?”
“That’s not what I mean. I don’t understand how you two can sit here and discuss this so casually?”
“I failed. What else is there to say? Now, let us go to face the justifiable wrath of Annwyl the Bloody.” Elina slipped off the table, but her legs nearly gave out, so her sister had to stop her from crumpling to the floor. “I am fine,” she lied. “I am fine.”
“You never could handle your drink, sister.”
“I kept up with you.”
“It is not what you do while drinking. It is what you do after.”
“Get your things and meet me outside the cave entrance,” Brigida ordered.
“You’re coming with us?” Celyn asked the old She-dragon, the idea of the journey growing more and more horrible.
“I long to see my kin again, Celyn the . . . Celyn the . . . what name have you earned, boy?”
“Celyn the Charming.”
The old She-dragon cackled. “Really?”
“I’m growing to loathe you. And I don’t usually say that to anyone.”
“And it’s just beginning,” Brigida promised. “Now outside. And you lot,” she said, pointing at the others with her stick. “You’ve got work to do.”
“What work?” Celyn demanded.
“Don’t like dragons who ask me too many questions,” Brigida announced, walking away.
When Celyn felt Brigida was far enough away, he caught Rhianwen around the waist and moved her off to a corner.
“What’s going on between you lot and Brigida?”
“Nothing you have to worry about it.”
“And yet I’m worried.”
“Don’t be. We’re fine.”
“It’s not really you and the twins I’m worried about. It’s more the world.”
Rhianwen stepped back from him, and Celyn immediately regretted hurting her feelings. He really shouldn’t have sensitive conversations with relatives when he was still a little drunk.
“I . . . we . . . have no intention of destroying the world. No matter what our enemies say.”
“But, Rhianwen—”
She held up her hand, turned her face away, her back ramrod straight. “No, no. I think there’s nothing else to be said. You’ve made your feelings about us quite clear.”
“Tell me, cousin,” Celyn asked, his head pounding too hard to even think of playing this game, “did you get that little performance from Keita or your mother?”
“Neither,” she quipped back, lifting her skirt to flounce off. “Uncle Gwenvael.”
Celyn stepped aside to let her get by, then tossed after her, “That’s nothing to be proud of, you know.”
With her travel pack, bow and quiver on her back, Elina followed Celyn to where he’d left the horses. As soon as she entered the chamber, the Steppes horse trotted over to greet her.
“You have made a bond, sister,” Kachka said from behind her, smiling.
“We have been through much, he and I.”
Saddling up their mounts, the trio took the long walk to the entrance.
Once outside, Elina took in a deep breath. She was already beginning to feel much better.
Brigida waited for them in her human form, a fur cape covering her from head to feet.
“Do we ride or fly?” Celyn asked her. “And I’m really hoping you say fly, because galloping will not be my friend right now.”
“Like your mother, your vision is small.”
“What does that mean?”
“I am too old and too impatient to take bloody days to travel to Garbhán Isle.”
“Which means . . . what? Exactly.”
Staring at Celyn, Brigida raised the hand holding her walking stick. The clouds overhead darkened, lightning suddenly danced across the mountains, and a mighty wind seemed to rise from the ground up.
Kachka gasped as the air in front of them darkened and began to swirl.
With her free hand, Brigida motioned to the swirling air before them. “Go,” she said calmly.
Kachka shrugged and said, “All right.” Leading her horse, she walked until she disappeared.
Elina started to follow, but Celyn held his arm out, blocking her way.
“We’re not getting in that,” he yelped, his normally low voice hitting an abrupt high.
“Always a mummy’s boy, you are,” Brigida mocked.
“I am—ahhhhhhhhhh!” Celyn screamed as Brigida grabbed the scruff of his chain-mail shirt with her free hand and tossed him into the void after Kachka.
