Celyn stopped. “I’m banging my head into this tree.”

Gods, did Fearghus and Briec really think Celyn was smarter than the rest of his brothers and sisters? Really?

“I can see that. Why?”

Celyn rested his back against the tree and stared off. He asked, “Do you ever think about sharing Izzy?”

Éibhear took in a deep breath. Let it out. Announced, “I can have you skinned, dismembered, and spread from here to the Western Mountains before suns-up and I promise that no one but my dear aunt Ghleanna would ever miss you.”

Celyn rolled his eyes. “I’m not talking about with me, you idiot.”

“You’re ramming your human head into a tree, but I’m the idiot?”

“I just mean, if there was ever a beautiful female and she and Izzy were all, ‘Come here, big boy,’ would you—”

“Stop.” Éibhear could see where this was going. Deciding to put the past he had with Celyn aside, he answered from the heart. “I could never and would never share Izzy with anyone. I would never bring anyone else, beautiful or otherwise, into our bed. She’s my mate. She’ll always be my mate. It’s that simple.”

Celyn groaned and buried his head in his hands. And that’s when Éibhear realized this had nothing to do with Iseabail and their past together.

“Is this about the Rider woman?”

His groan turning into a bearlike growl, Celyn suddenly grabbed Éibhear’s chain-mail shirt and yanked him close. “You could finally get your revenge, cousin, and kill me now.”

“I could . . . but I can assure you, cousin, this is much more fun.”

“You’re an evil bastard,” Celyn hissed.

“I know!”

Elina finished pulling on her boot and looked over at her sister. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

“I did. It’s some kind of . . . tapping.”

The sisters went to the far wall and pressed their ears against it.

“Perhaps,” Kachka whispered, “someone is in the queen’s dungeon and is trying to send us message.”

“Perhaps there is reason Queen Annwyl put them in dungeon.”

Kachka glanced back at her. “What is happening to you?”

Together they moved along the wall, their ears still pressed to it, until they reached the door.

The knock came again, this time much louder, and they both jumped back.

Kachka pulled the dagger she had tucked into her boot and pushed Elina back. After a few seconds, the door opened slightly, and Queen Annwyl peered around the corner. She seemed surprised to see them.

“You are here.” She stepped inside. “Why didn’t you answer the door?”

“Answer the door?” Kachka repeated.

“When I knocked.”

“Is that what you were doing?”

Elina moved around her sister, reaching back to slap her hand, which still held the dagger defensively. “You will have to forgive us, Queen Annwyl. We do not have doors on Steppes.”

“Oh. I see.”

“And the red-haired She-dragon did not knock. She simply walked in.”

“Yeah.” Annwyl closed the door behind her. “Royal dragons aren’t good with the knocking.”

“Is something wrong, Queen Annwyl?” Elina asked when the royal simply stood there, saying nothing else.

“First off, don’t call me Queen Annwyl. My name is Annwyl. Just call me Annwyl.”

“Good,” Kachka said. “I do not like titles.”

“Neither do I. They make me uncomfortable.”

“What is wrong?” Elina asked her. “You look upset.”

“I haven’t had time to apologize to you for what happened. With”—the queen cleared her throat and cracked her neck—“your mother.”

Elina glanced at her sister, but Kachka just shrugged.

“We do not understand. What are you apologizing for?”

“For sending you back there.”

“I lived there. They were my tribe, my people. What happened between me and my mother had nothing to do with you.”

“By asking you to talk to the Anne Atli—”

“My mother has hated me since . . . since when, Kachka?”

“Since you stopped growing.”

The queen blinked. “You’re nearly as tall as me.”

“She’d think you were small, too. But your skills in battle would eventually charm her. That’s what worked for Kachka.”

“Although she just tolerated me. Like dog that keeps showing up every night for food and shelter.”

“What we are saying, Annwyl, is that this was coming for long time.”

“She doesn’t deserve daughters like you.”

“It does not matter. She has twenty-three other children to replace us with.”

Eyes wide in horror, the queen took a step back, her hand immediately resting on her stomach. “Twenty-three?”

“Some have more,” Elina said with a shrug. “Some have less. Kachka and I are youngest and I am biggest disappointment. But you and your request had nothing to do with that.”

“Well—” Annwyl scratched her head, and she seemed more . . . out of sorts than when Elina had first met her. Especially when the simple scratch with one finger turned into both hands digging into her hair and scratching like she was digging for gems. When she stopped, her hair covered her eyes and most of her face, but she didn’t bother to move it out of her way. She simply gazed at them through it.