Talaith stuck the pin into key points on Hamish’s face.

Surprised, he only stared at her. Then he dropped, the sound of his armor crashing to the carriage floor harsh even as the sounds of battle and cries of dying men filled her ears.

She slipped the pin back into her dagger and her dagger back into its sheath. “Tell me where the key is and I’ll kill you quick. Play with me and I’ll let you suffer like this until the poison kills you. And I assure you that will be hours from now. Choose.”

He didn’t answer as his body instinctively fought the effects of the poison. But she knew it would only be a matter of time. Hamish lasted until he’d become completely paralyzed, blood streamed from his eyes, and green fluid poured from the side of his mouth.

“Tell me,” she ordered.

“Me,” he puffed out between gasps of excruciating pain.

“What about you?”

“Me,” he said again.

Guessing at what he meant, Talaith went to him and proceeded to remove his armor, cutting the leather strips that held the pieces in place. She reached his chainmail shirt and pushed it up under his chin. Arzhela’s talisman hung from a gold chain, both of which she’d seared into Hamish’s flesh.

Taking her dagger, Talaith touched the blade tip to the chain. No, she’d have to dig it out. So she did. Burying the blade right under his skin and ignoring Hamish’s gurgling screams, she worked the chain and talisman from their resting place. Once she had enough to get a good grip on, she grabbed hold and ripped up. Flesh split apart and blood flew as she tore it from his frame.

Once she had it, she stood.

“Wait,” he demanded when she started to walk away. “Kill me,” he begged. “Promised.”

“Did I? I must have been lying. Enjoy your death, Lord Hamish. May it be long and oh so very painful.”

Now that she had what she wanted, Talaith wasted no more time. She went over the side of the carriage, expertly working her way down until her feet hit land. Most of the soldiers who’d come to help Hamish were dead, Annwyl standing in the middle of bodies and their corresponding pieces.

“I need Morfyd.”

Annwyl leaned her head back and let out a blood-curdling war cry that had the dragon turning in mid-flight and returning to them.

She landed beside Annwyl. “You bellowed?”

“Arzhela’s taken Izzy,” Talaith barked as she strode toward the white dragon. “I need your help.”

“Come.” Morfyd lowered herself so that Talaith could grab her mane and haul herself up.

“And Hamish?” Annwyl asked, although it no longer sounded like she cared.

“He’s still up there. In about two hours, his body will begin to decay…four hours after that he should die. It’s up to you if you want to end his suffering sooner.”

Annwyl raised an eyebrow. “He can stay up there and suffer. Maybe I’ll sell tickets.” She reached up and patted Talaith’s foot. “Good luck, sister.”

Talaith nodded, holding onto Morfyd’s mane as they took to the skies.

* * *

Briec caught the spear in his hands seconds before it would have slammed into his shoulder. He glared down upon the soldiers who fired it at him. They used a similar device Annwyl used to throw boulders at castles. He saw the men stare up at him and, with a snarl, he headed toward them. The spear still tight in his grasp. As he got close, he threw it, impaling the closest one to the device, then he sprayed row after row of the enemy soldiers with white flame.

When an entire battalion was no more than ashes, he landed on solid ground and Fearghus landed next to him. His older brother surveyed the damage he wrought and turned to him.

“Subtle.”

“They almost wounded me,” he growled.

“Don’t be weak, Briec. I’m sure if you’d been hurt Talaith would have kissed it and made it better.”

Gwenvael landed in front of them. He spat out a pair of soldier’s boots—actually several pairs—and burped.

“I love a good meal.”

Fearghus rolled his eyes. “You’ll be hacking all that up later tonight.”

“No, I won’t. Because I cooked them. I only get ill when Morfyd cooks. Speaking of which…” Gwenvael’s gaze traveled up and he frowned. “If I didn’t know better I’d swear that was Talaith riding on our sister’s back.”

Briec’s head snapped up. Gwenvael saw true. Talaith, who’d rather eat nails than ride a dragon anywhere, clung to his sister’s back as they headed off away from battle.

More of Hamish’s troops took that moment to attack, but Fearghus motioned him away. “Go. Find out what’s wrong. We’ll take care of them.” He sneered at the soldiers before letting loose a stream of flame. Briec wasted no more time. He took to the skies and followed his sister to one of the many lakes that dotted the lands of Dark Plains.

He landed as Talaith slipped from Morfyd’s back.

“What is it? What’s wrong?”

Talaith glanced at Morfyd. “Get started,” she ordered. Then she walked over to Briec. “I have to go,” she said to him, so calmly it made his blood run cold.

Behind them, Morfyd began chanting, calling on the most powerful of Magicks. He didn’t want to know why. He wanted to grab Talaith and take her home. Back to his den where he could keep her safe.

“Go? Go where?”

“She’s taken Izzy, Briec.”