“She’s good,” Éibhear finally admitted, after watching his niece for nearly half an hour.

“She’s been good since birth. But she wants to be the best.”

“And her brother?”

“He just wants to be good. His father seems to think f**king is all he aspires to”—like his Uncle Gwenvael, remained unspoken—“but I don’t think he’s remotely as straightforward as he likes to pretend. Kind of like your sister—”

“Good morn to my beloved family!”

“Keita,” Izzy and Éibhear said together, and then laughed.

Izzy faced Keita.

“Oh, my sweet girl,” Keita said, embracing Izzy. “Don’t you just look beautiful?” She stepped back, gripping Izzy’s hands, and looked her over. “Just, just beautiful.”

Nodding, Izzy asked, “What do you want, Keita?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.” She pulled Izzy close, slinging one arm around her shoulders. “I’m just so glad to see you. It’s been ages!”

“It was ten months ago. You wanted something then, too.”

“Aren’t you going to greet me, sister?” Éibhear asked from behind them.

“I’m still not talking to you.”

“Still? When did you start? The not talking, I mean, because usually I can’t get you to shut up.”

Snarling, Keita pulled her arm from Izzy’s shoulders and spun around, pointing an accusing finger at her brother. “I have nothing to say to you. In fact, I’m sure I’ll have nothing to say to you for the next several centuries!”

“And yet words keep spilling from your lips . . .”

Knowing well how ridiculous and pointless this could get, Izzy moved between the siblings and asked, “Keita, can you tell me who sent for me? Éibhear didn’t seem to know.”

“Well, I didn’t tell Éibhear to do anything. I told him not to come get you. That was for me and Ragnar. So that way we could have spent some time with you, talked, and simply enjoyed—”

“Keita,” Izzy cut in. “Who sent for me?”

“I did, which is why I was planning to come for you.”

Izzy shook her head. “Why would you send for me? What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.” Again Keita put her arm around Izzy’s shoulders, pulling her in close. “I’d just like you to meet someone I think you’ll find really . . . interesting.”

Izzy yanked away from the dragoness. “Are you telling me you summoned me from a gods-damn war so that I could meet some male?”

“Not just any male. A royal human!”

Afraid she’d smack her own beloved aunt in the mouth, Izzy started to walk away, but Keita yanked her back with a surprising amount of strength for a dragoness known for her physical weakness.

“Now, now. I know what you’re thinking.”

“You really don’t. Or you’d get your hands off me.”

“You’re thinking that I’m talking about just some random, useless male that could barely give you an orgasm, much less beautiful jewels.” Izzy tried to walk away once more, but again she was yanked back. “But I’m talking about a male with much more potential than that. And he likes your type.”

Izzy was about to make another attempt at escape, but she stopped and looked at Keita. “My type?”

“Uh-huh. Your type.”

Not sure what she could mean, Izzy tried to guess. “You mean . . . my coloring?” With so few people from the Desert Lands venturing into Dark Plains, Izzy and her mum were often considered “exotic” by some males, based on their skin color alone.

“No. I mean more your . . . build.”

“My build?”

“She probably means those sturdy shoulders,” Éibhear tossed in.

“Why are you speaking when I’m no longer talking to you?” Keita snapped.

“You keep saying that,” he shot back, “but then you keep talking to me.”

“I guess I’m unclear,” Izzy cut in, desperate, “what you want from me.”

“It sounds like she’s trying to whore you out.”

Keita swung on her brother, her small fist hitting him in the chest. And Izzy cringed from the sound of cracking bones and watched Keita grip her hand and stomp her feet. “Damn you, Éibhear!”

“Why are you yelling at me? I’m not the one trying to whore out our niece.”

“I am not trying to whore out anyone! You overbearing bastard!”

“Now you’re calling me names? Where did our love go, Keita?”

“Oh, shut up!”

“I think I’m going to get first meal,” Izzy said.

“You’re not going anywhere, Iseabail. Not until we’re done talking.”

Izzy looked at her aunt. “Trust me, Keita. We’re done.”

Dagmar sat at the table, going over what would be needed for security during the upcoming harvest festival. Bercelak had already promised her several troops’ worth of his Dragonwarriors and all she needed now were the numbers from the human troops. Many more royals would be coming in and she wanted to ensure their protection. It would not do to have any of them assassinated while under the queen’s protection.

“Dagmar.”

“Oh, good. Brastias. Do you have those numbers I asked for?”