Annwyl motioned to the open Great Hall doors, through which Éibhear and Morfyd were walking.

Talaith tapped her fingers against the table. “I shouldn’t get involved.”

“No. You shouldn’t.”

“It’s none of my business.”

“No. It’s not.”

After three seconds, Talaith slammed her hands against the table. “I can’t let it go!”

Annwyl rubbed her nose to keep from laughing, watching as Talaith rounded the table, heading for a wide-eyed and completely panicking Éibhear, while Morfyd stepped in front of her brother, ready to defend him.

“I’m so mad at you right now, I don’t have words.”

“Celyn is taking advantage of her,” he argued.

“That’s none of your business, Éibhear.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended you, Talaith—”

“Me? You need to say that to Izzy.”

“—but she was lying to everyone!”

“Again that’s none of your business.”

Annwyl saw Izzy charge down the hallway and take the stairs, probably having heard Éibhear’s voice. She’d just hit the last step when Annwyl met her and caught hold of her arm. “Why don’t we go for a walk?” Annwyl offered/ordered.

“You!” Izzy screamed over her shoulder while Annwyl led her out the back way. “Are a self-righteous prat!”

“I was thinking of you, you dozy sow!”

“Sow? ”

Annwyl yanked her niece out the door and kept going, confident that if she stopped even for a moment, Izzy would run right back inside and rip every blue hair from Éibhear’s giant head.

Ragnar watched Keita closely. “You’ve dreamed about them too?”

“Once…maybe twice.” She scratched her throat. “I didn’t think much of it because I’m not much for having prophetic dreams.” She stepped closer. “How bad is this?”

“The Kyvich?” He gave a little laugh, but they both winced at the sound of it. “I’ve never seen them in battle, but I’ve heard that a warlord or monarch losing a war can change his fate should the Kyvich take up his cause. Half a Kyvich legion—and their legions have far less than a normal army’s legion—can lay a city to waste. They walk the path of the warrior and the witch perfectly. They kill without thought or remorse, and have been known to break the souls of men who annoy them, until they turn them into their own personal battle dogs, I guess you’d call them. Unleashing the poor sods during battle to wear the enemy down a bit, feeling nothing when the men are killed.”

“And what else?” She tightened the arms she had folded over her chest. “There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

“There are few Kyvich born into their ranks. They…”

“Say it.”

“They take girls from their mothers. Usually before they’re old enough to walk. Often their mothers hand them over rather than risk the rest of their children or their entire village. Not that I blame the mothers for their reluctance. The training of the Kyvich is brutal and…ruthless. And starts by the time the girls are five or six winters.”

“And Talwyn would be perfect for them, wouldn’t she?”

“From what you told me. Also, right now, Talwyn has no loyalty to any god because of her age and her parents. But if she becomes a Kyvich, the war gods, at the very least, would ensure she’d be working for them through her allegiance to the Kyvich.” He took a breath. “Keita, if I’d known you’d dreamed about them as well—”

“We can’t worry now about what we should have done, Ragnar.” And all that royal training came to the fore, Keita showing no panic or fear. She simply said, “We have to warn Annwyl and Fearghus.”

“I agree.” Ragnar headed across the field back toward the castle. “I think this is what Annwyl has been training for without even realizing it.”

“Any idea when they’ll get here?”

They entered the forest that surrounded the fortress walls. “Not sure.

I’ve heard their skills and gifts are immense. That they can move quickly and go for thousands of leagues undetected. Truthfully, for all we know—they could fly.”

“Well, at least most of the family is here to protect—” Ragnar stopped and looked over his shoulder. “Keita?” He walked back to where he’d last heard her voice. “Keita?”

“Lord Ragnar?” a voice asked.

He turned and looked at Éibhear, who came stalking into the woods.

“Have you seen my sister? Keita?”

“Didn’t you see her?”

Éibhear gazed at him. “Sorry?”

“Didn’t you see Keita? She was right here.”

Éibhear shook his head. “No, sir.”

Ragnar didn’t understand. “But she was just here.” Ragnar heard her voice in his head. It was faint, but it was definitely Keita’s.

Up.

He looked up and then pushed Éibhear back toward the castle. “Go.

Get your brothers, your sister.” He pointed at the royal standing there looking confused. “Go! Now! Tell them to follow my scent!” Then Ragnar shifted and took to the air.

“I say we should have let Éibhear kill the bastard.” Talaith rubbed her eyes with the tips of her fingers. She adored her mate, truly she did. But there simply was no grey area for him. There was only black, white, and annoying.