She unwrapped the big stack and grinned. “Thank you so much, Addolgar the Cheerful.” She pulled out one of the arrows, examining it closely. As she did, she went on. “Although you do not seem so cheerful. Is that his fault?” she asked with a jerk of her head in Celyn’s direction.

Addolgar’s nephew threw his claws up. “Now you’re just attacking me.”

“You make it easy!” she snapped back, her focus still on the arrows.

There were many arrows in the stack Addolgar had given her, but they weren’t all the same because he’d taken most from the bodies of his fallen enemies. He even had orc arrows in there somewhere.

He watched her test one. Her form was perfect, and she took down a squirrel that he could barely see several hundred yards away.

Addolgar grinned. He liked this woman. He wasn’t so sure, though, whether his nephew did.

“Are you done showing off?” Celyn sniffed.

“Are you done being pain in ass?”

“As a matter of fact . . . I’m not!”

“Celyn,” Addolgar cut in again, “perhaps we should talk about what we plan to do.”

“Of course, Uncle.”

“Oh, look,” the woman taunted. “You can follow orders.”

“You don’t give me orders, insolent female.”

“Do not point talons at me, Dolt!”

“I’ll point my talons anywhere I want to. Because I don’t take orders from you.”

Addolgar glanced back at his daughter and crossed his eyes. And, as it did with her mother, that made her laugh.

Celyn didn’t know why Elina was being so mean to him. Before Addolgar had arrived, they’d been getting along. Now, she was sniping at him like some fishmonger’s wife.

And he was sniping back; he simply didn’t know why. Over the years he’d found not reacting to those yelling at him was infinitely more effective than yelling back. The calmer he remained, the angrier they became, until they snapped. Gods knew, he used to do it with his cousins all the time.

Yet now, this one tiny, pale, ready-for-death female was making him angrier than he’d ever been before. Over nothing. That was the worst part. Angry over the murder of Costentyn? Completely justifiable. Angry over this woman’s general rudeness . . . ? A bit absurd.

Addolgar’s claw landed on the back of Celyn’s neck and he cringed, waiting for Addolgar to slam his head into the nearest tree. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time his uncle had done this to him . . . or to his brothers. His sisters, including mouthy Brannie, had all managed to avoid the Addolgar Head Tree Slam—as the brothers called it when they woke up a few days later.

Thankfully, though, Addolgar just steered Celyn off, away from the insolent female.

“Everything all right here, lad?” Addolgar asked.

“Aye. Why?”

Addolgar huffed a bit. “Celyn?” he pushed.

“She’s just being sensitive. You put a girl in jail and forget about her for a few months, and they all take it so bloody personally.”

“You forgot about her?”

“She’s lucky I did. She’d been sent to kill Rhiannon.”

“Then why isn’t she dead?”

Celyn sighed. “It was a sad, weak attempt, really. She clearly didn’t want to do it. Auntie Rhiannon just felt bad for her.”

“Guess you didn’t tell me brother about any of this.”

“Rhiannon told me not to.”

“Don’t lie to me, my lad. You wouldn’t have told him anyway.”

“He tends to overreact. Like a dog that attacks at every new sound.” Celyn glanced back toward where he’d left Elina. “She climbed all the way up Devenallt Mountain by herself but didn’t even bring her bow. But with her bow, she could have easily put arrows through the closest guards and had an arrow through Rhiannon’s eye before the rest of us could have reached either of them . . . yet she didn’t.”

“What are you doing with her now?”

“Taking her back to the Outerplains. She’s going to meet with the tribes’ leader to see if we can arrange a meeting between her and Annwyl.”

“Good luck with that. That tribes leader ain’t a friendly girl.” Addolgar shrugged his massive shoulders. “But I don’t care much about this political stuff. I leave that to Dagmar and your father.” Addolgar suddenly looked around. “If you’re taking her back to her people, though, you’re taking the long way, ain’t ya?”

“We thought getting a little more information about what’s been happening around the Southlands and, possibly, the Outerplains, would help our cause once Elina reached her tribe leader.”

Addolgar shook his head. “You and your bloody excuses to ask questions.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you ask too many questions.” Addolgar made a tsk-tsk sound. “Personally, I blame your father. It’s his blood that made you like this.”

“Made me like what?”

“Always thinking. Don’t you ever stop thinking?”

Celyn could only give one answer to that. “No.”

“See what I mean? Just like your father.”

Celyn moved away from his uncle. “Look, I’ll admit, I may ask more questions than most Cadwaladrs, but I don’t think there’s anything wrong with that. What would you prefer, Uncle . . . that I was more like one of your sons?”