The relief on his scaled face at seeing her made Elina smile. But that smile quickly turned into a wince when Celyn’s opponent was able to toss Celyn off and get back to his claws. He yanked out his own sword and dove toward Celyn.

But Celyn’s sister was there, grabbing the dragon by his hair and yanking him back. She used the handle of her axe against his throat to hold the dragon tight while Celyn got up and came at him again. He buried his blade into the dragon’s gut, tearing from left to right and back again. The dragon’s insides poured out onto the ground and he reached for them, as if he’d be able to tuck them all in again and be fine.

Brannie released the dragon and stepped back, watching as he used his last few seconds of life to scoop up his guts.

Celyn, however, came to Elina.

“Are you all right?”

“My sister?” she immediately asked.

“With my father and mother. She’s more than safe. Now answer me. Are you all right?”

“I am fine. My mighty horse of the Steppes did a good job. Unlike your useless travel-cow, which would have been crushed by the weight of two rolling dragons.”

“You’re really not letting that travel-cow thing go, are you?”

“He is worthless!”

They both jumped when Brannie suddenly lifted her axe and brought it down hard, taking off the head of Celyn’s opponent.

When she turned to find both of them staring at her, she shrugged. “He wasn’t dying fast enough, and he just kept picking up his guts. . . . It was vile.”

Celyn shook his head before smiling at Elina.

“I am glad you are not dead,” she told him honestly. “Now I must go and see my sister.”

“You’re just going to leave me?”

“Yes.”

“You care more about your sister than me?”

“Yes.”

When Celyn just stared at Elina while his sister rolled on the ground behind him, knocking over trees and gasping between her laughter that, “I love her! I love her so gods-damn much!” Elina turned her horse toward Bram’s castle and urged the animal into a gallop.

Ghleanna pressed her snout against her mate’s and tangled her tail with his. They stood together for several seconds, just comforted by the presence of each other.

“How did you know?” Bram asked.

“Your son guessed. They even tried to kill Bercelak.”

“Bercelak? Are they mad?”

“Not in the slightest. They knew exactly what they were doing. They went after Dagmar, too—but,” she quickly put in when he tensed, “she’s safe. There are others who may not be so lucky. But I’ll worry about all that later.”

“This is going to change things.”

“I know, but we’ll worry about that later, too. Just let me be happy you’re here with me.”

Over the massacre of zealot soldiers by the Cadwaladr Clan, Ghleanna heard the sound of a galloping horse.

Elina Shestakova rode around the battling dragons toward her sister, who sat mounted on her own horse by Bram’s side.

The strange thing was that Ghleanna felt Kachka Shestakova, in her own Rider way, was still standing by Bram to protect him.

This human female was protecting a dragon from other dragons, probably because her sister had asked her to. And that delighted Ghleanna more than she could say.

Elina rode up to Kachka until their horses were right next to each other, the sisters’ knees nearly touching as they sat proud in their saddles.

The pair stared at each other until Elina nodded at her sister. Kachka nodded back. Then Elina led her horse all the way behind Bram until she was positioned at Ghleanna’s side. There she sat, her gaze looking out over the lessening battle as the Cadwaladrs did what they always do so well . . . kill things.

Aye. Ghleanna the Decimator and her mate, with their lethal offspring and kin no more than a hundred feet away, were now being protected by the Shestakova sisters.

Ghleanna leaned in and whispered to Bram, “This is the most adorable thing ever.”

“Stop.”

“Ever.”

Celyn finally dragged his sister up by her wings and placed her on her feet. Anything to stop the bloody laughing.

They headed back to their father’s castle.

“I don’t think she cares about me nearly as much as I care about her,” he complained. And the gods knew, he’d only ever have this conversation with Brannie. “It’s going to be the Izzy situation all over again.”

“Horse shit. You knew what you were getting into with Izzy from the beginning. The only idiot who didn’t know how Izzy felt about Éibhear was bloody Éibhear.”

“Then why—”

Brannie stopped, held up her claws. “Before I’m forced to beat you because you sound like a pathetic child, I’m just going to say, in the short time I’ve known those two women, they are not demonstrative females. You want a lovey-dovey female, then get some vapid royal who only knows how to present herself to the queen. But if you want a female with a strong enough vagina to tell you to your face that she’s more concerned about her sister than you . . . then you get yourself a Rider.”

“You do have a point.”

“Of course I do. Now come on. We’re missing out on the rest of the killing.”

Together, the siblings walked on until Brannie stopped again and gazed off.

“What’s wrong?” Celyn asked.

“I feel like we’ve forgotten something. . . .”