“Cousin!” Gwenvael falsely cheered. “How wonderful to see you! It’s been . . . days. At least.”
Celyn pushed against his cousin’s chest, but tried his best to hide his desperation from his queen and uncle.
“Come!” Gwenvael continued. “Join us!”
“Let me go, you bastard!” Celyn snarled softly at his older cousin.
“No, no! You’re family! You must join us!” Gwenvael’s voice lowered to a mean whisper. “I insist.”
It had been years—bloody years!—since Gwenvael had warned a very young Celyn not to go near his adopted niece, Iseabail the Dangerous. A warning Celyn had promptly ignored. And a few years later, when it had come out that Celyn and Izzy had become lovers, Gwenvael had made it his business to torment his cousin. Celyn didn’t know why. Chasing after unrelated, beautiful females was something Gwenvael had always done himself before he’d mated with Dagmar. And, according to Annwyl, Gwenvael had definitely at least tried with her before Fearghus had properly Claimed Annwyl as his.
Surprisingly, though, Gwenvael was shockingly sly about his small bouts of revenge. Never making a big deal of it, or involving his brothers. It was as if he wanted to hide the fact that something so minor bothered him so much. He was considered the jovial one of the royal siblings, after all.
But none of that changed the fact that the golden-haired bastard was currently making Celyn’s throbbing head that much worse.
Gwenvael reached out and grabbed Celyn’s shoulder, spun him around, and shoved him forward.
“Mum!” the bastard cheered. “Look who’s here to escort you home once you’re ready to go? Our wonderful cousin Celyn!”
With her arm tight around Brannie’s shoulders, her grin appearing as plotting and unholy as her son’s, the queen said, “Wonderful! And dear, sweet Brannie can stay, too! I simply adore family time!”
Gwenvael’s arm looped around Celyn’s neck and his chin rested on Celyn’s shoulder. “So do I, Mummy. So do I!”
Chapter Five
Éibhear the Contemptible shifted to human and quickly pulled on leggings. He had to drag on his boots while following an angry, stalking Izzy. The only thing keeping her from completely outpacing him was that she wasn’t running and he had longer legs.
“Izzy, wait!” he yelled after her, even though he knew she wouldn’t listen. Not when she was this pissed off. “Iseabail!”
But it was no use.
Éibhear got the last boot on and ran after his mate. He’d just cleared the last step when he saw Izzy, in front of everyone, walk boldly up to Rhiannon, point an accusing finger, and say, “What have you done—?”
“My lovely granddaughter!” Rhiannon exclaimed, cutting off the rest of Izzy’s words. Then she grabbed Izzy about the neck and yanked her into her body, hugging her tight. So tight, Éibhear was sure Izzy couldn’t breathe; her arms desperately flew out from her body, trying to push Rhiannon away.
“Oh, my dearest girl. How I’ve missed you! It’s been what?” Rhiannon asked. “Days? Weeks? Since I’ve seen you last?”
Éibhear ran over to extricate his mate from his mother, but then, suddenly, his idiot cousin Celyn was between him and his goal.
“Move,” Éibhear snapped at him.
Celyn the Charming—yeah, right, bloody “charming” all right—gave a bit of a smile before turning to Éibhear’s brothers and asking, “Aren’t you all glad to see your little brother returned to the safety of your collective bosom?”
“Not really.”
“I hadn’t thought about it.”
“Who?”
Éibhear was about to move Celyn himself since the black dragon couldn’t seem to get out of his way with any speed, when Éibhear stopped, and faced his brothers. “Wait . . . what? You don’t care I’m home?” he asked his brothers. “To the big, fat, disgusting warmth of your collective bosoms?”
“Yes, because we definitely want the Mì-runach in our home,” Briec said on a bored sigh.
Éibhear’s lip curled a bit. He was aware of how his brothers felt about the Mì-runach. They were considered vile, vicious bastards who took orders from no one but their queen and killed only those no one else would go near. They had also been the only group of Dragonwarriors willing to take Éibhear on as one of their own. His time with them had made him a better dragon and definitely a more worthy soldier. But the reputation of the Mì-runach seemed to mean more to his brothers than what they’d done for the youngest of their siblings.
Typical!
“Now, now, you lot,” Gwenvael unhelpfully cut in. “Let’s not blame the boy for being worthless and irritating. Let’s blame our father. It’s his fault poor little Éibhear is like this. Sad. Pathetic. With bones tied in his strangely colored hair as if he were still on the cold, barbarian mountains of the Northlands.”
“Strangely colored hair? Our grandfather was a Blue,” Éibhear reminded them.
“His was more of a hearty navy blue that sparkled in the moonlight. Yours is a flat, boring blue. Kind of like yourself.”
Suddenly Fearghus focused on them all as if he’d never seen them before and snapped, “Who are we talking about?”
That was when Éibhear threw the first punch. . . .
“In here,” Annwyl said as she led Rhiannon, Dagmar, and Talaith, into the library, the sounds of the brothers’ fighting fading as she closed the door behind them. “They never come in here.”
“Nicely handled, dear Celyn,” Rhiannon told her nephew who, along with his younger sister, had followed them here. Celyn had always been one of her best guards, knowing exactly what she needed without Rhiannon ever having to say a word.
“You’re welcome. But I think you should let Izzy go now. She might be passing out.”
“Hmmm?” Rhiannon glanced down at her adopted granddaughter and saw that the warrior had slumped in her arms. “Oh, dear!”
She dropped the girl and Izzy fell into her mother’s arms.
“I wish you wouldn’t do that,” Talaith chastised while she and Morfyd worked to awaken the girl.
“She was about to open that large mouth she inherited from you and I was trying to stop her.” Rhiannon pointed at her nephew. “Celyn, be a dear and you and Brannie there block the door.”
“Really?” he asked with an annoyed sound in his voice. “You want me watching the door. Like one of Dagmar’s dogs?” He pointed at the large beast that always shadowed the Northlander. Her name was Adda and she was the size of a miniature horse. “Look. She’s already standing there. Can’t she do it?”
“For the love of . . . you two just guard the bloody door!”
By the time the siblings locked the door and stood in front of it, Izzy was awake and slowly getting to her feet.
Rhiannon started to order Ghleanna’s offspring to the other side of the door to keep out her sons, but she realized she didn’t have much time. At some point, her sons would realize that the rest of them had snuck away. So she had to make this quick.
Izzy, again, pointed a damning finger. “Gran, you tried to kill me!”
“Now, dear,” Rhiannon said with a smile, “we both know that if I’d actually tried to kill you, you’d be nothing but ash and a lovely memory by now.”
Like one of the lesser Queen’s Guard, Celyn and