“I think we may have to stop calling them that. It seems to bother them.”

“Which part?”

Elina thought a moment before replying, “Dogs. I think the dogs part bothers them more than anything else. Even they admit they are decadent, lazy, and imperialist.”

“Fair enough. Anyway,” Kachka went on, “we are now on this journey together. To see what the horse gods have in store for us. I do not regret that. Having you by my side. When Glebovicha sent you off that last time, Elina, when I thought you would never return—I felt . . . lonely. But now we can see this through as a team.”

“It will be strange. Staying in these lands for good.”

“True, but—”

Talaith stormed from the back door leading into the hall, her dragon husband hot on her heels.

“Piss off, Briec!”

“What else haven’t you told me, insolent female? What other lies are you keeping from me about my perfect, perfect daughters?”

Talaith stopped and spun around to face Briec, her finger ramming into his large chest. “You do understand, lizard, that I’m the one who bore these perfect daughters of yours? That without me your perfect, perfect daughters would not even exist.”

“One was lucky enough to sidestep the inherent drawbacks of being terminally human and the other is here because I was kind enough to bless your low-born womb with my royal seed, which means you should be grateful to me.”

“Grate . . . grateful?”

“Is the screeching truly necessary?”

Spinning on her heel, Talaith finished storming out of the hall.

“I should have killed you when I had the chance!” she yelled back at him.

“I thought that’s what you were trying to do!” the dragon yelled in return. “By talking me to death!”

Briec, realizing he wasn’t alone, glanced over at Elina and Kachka. A wide grin split his face and he winked at them before going after his wife while yelling, “Don’t you dare walk away from me, little witch! We are not—don’t you dare throw dog shit at me, you crazed, heartless female!”

“But,” Kachka continued, “I’m sure we will find much to entertain us.”

She stepped away from the table, pulling Elina with her. “Come.”

“Where?”

“We need to find potatoes and a blacksmith.”

“Why?”

“If we’re going to stay in this decadent crazy place, we will need drink. We will need much drink.”

Elina nodded her head. “As always, sister, you are right . . . but what is the blacksmith for?”

Her sister smiled. “You’ll see.”

Chapter Forty

Celyn walked into his room and found Elina and Kachka sitting on the bed, several open and finished bottles of his uncle Bercelak’s ale surrounding them.

“Good gods, you two didn’t drink all that, did you?”

“It was a little weak—” Elina began.

“We use this shit to clean our armor.” He snatched the half-empty bottle from Kachka’s grasp. “We have a few cousins near the ports who sell it as a barnacle cleaner to the pirates.”

“I thought it was smooth,” Kachka said.

“I leave you alone for a few hours . . .”

“Speaking of Bercelak”—no, they weren’t—“your uncle came by looking for you earlier today.”

“What did he want?”

“Do not know. He said he would return tomorrow.”

“Just great.” That would not be an enjoyable conversation. No matter the outcome of today’s events, Celyn had not only disobeyed his uncle’s command, but his first priority hadn’t been the queen. And he knew he’d have to hear about that from Bercelak. Hear about it but good.

Celyn placed the bottle on a small table. He heard one of the Riders get up from the bed and cross the room, but he didn’t turn to look. He was too busy worrying about what his uncle wanted.

He felt a tug on his chain-mail shirt and turned to face Elina.

“Give me hand,” she ordered.

Celyn did. And she turned it over so that the back of his hand lay in her palm. After pulling the sleeve of his chain-mail shirt up a bit, she gripped his wrist tight, then suddenly pressed a hot iron against his human flesh, searing it.

Celyn let out a surprised roar, almost unleashing a flame that would turn the room and every human in it to ash. But he managed to keep it in. Somehow.

“What the battle-fuck was that?” he bellowed.

“Now,” Elina said calmly, “you belong to me. Not me to you. You to me. Understand?”

Celyn’s rage slipped away with the sigh he released. “All right, what did my uncle say to you?”

“He said I was your woman. I am no man’s woman. Remember that, Dolt.”

Celyn rolled his eyes. “Kachka, can you leave us alone?”

Kachka walked over to him and held out her hand. “Give me bottle.”

“Kachka, I don’t think that’s such a good i—”

“Bottle!”

He returned Bercelak’s ale to her.

“Thank you.” She walked to the door, but stopped, faced them. “Congratulations on your nuptials. You two make a beautiful, if unnatural, couple.”

She walked out and Elina made her shaky, drunken way across the room, dropping onto the bed. She stretched out, fully dressed, and spread her legs. “Come. Service me like whore you are.”