It seemed the old hag was not nearly as weak as she liked to pretend.

“You, too, horse.”

At first, Elina thought Brigida was talking to her, but then she realized that she was talking to Celyn’s travel-cow, which was quietly trying to back away.

Disgusted, Elina grabbed the travel-cow’s reins and headed toward the void. The Steppes horse followed without hesitation . . . because that’s how it should be.

She stopped right in front of the void, took a big breath, and gripped the travel-cow’s reins. Hoping for the best, she stepped in—and then screamed her damn head off.

Chapter Thirty-One

Dagmar rushed into what had unofficially become her study. Bram would be bringing her son back this afternoon, but he’d also have Gaius Domitus. And even though the Rebel King was relatively easygoing, she wanted to be prepared. Next to the Northlanders, Gaius was their most important ally.

But Gaius Domitus really wasn’t the problem. It was his sister, Agrippina. She, not surprisingly after what she’d been through, trusted no one. And she especially didn’t trust Annwyl. Again, not surprising, considering every time she saw the Southlander queen, Annwyl was acting . . . odd.

Dagmar found the scroll that Bram had sent her. She lifted her spectacles so they rested against her forehead and quickly scanned the material. Once she’d digested it all, she tossed the scroll back onto her desk and turned toward the door.

She stopped, let out a sigh.

“I thought I told you lot not to play in here.”

Dagmar returned her spectacles to her nose and faced the back of her study. Two of her youngest daughters peeked over the chairs she had there, but the other three . . . they just sort of appeared. As if they’d been part of the bookcase that covered the entire back wall.

The first time that had happened, Dagmar had screamed as if she’d uncovered a dead body. But by now, she was used to the . . . uniqueness of her youngest daughters. It was similar to a gift their father had. He was a chameleon, a dragon able to blend into any area he was in so that it would seem he’d disappeared.

“Mum,” Seva, the eldest of The Five, asked, “will we have to leave, too? Like Var?”

“Var hasn’t left. He’s just visiting your uncle Bram for the night.”

“Do you want us to leave?”

Shocked, Dagmar stared at her daughter for a long moment. “Of course not. Why would you even ask that?”

“Arlais says—”

“First off,” Dagmar immediately cut in, “you know better than to listen to Arlais about anything. She lives to torment all of you.”

“But we scare you, don’t we?”

Dagmar let out a sigh, and walked to the back of the room. She leaned down, placing her hands on her knees so that she could look all her daughters in the eyes.

“You do not scare me. None of you scare me. I am scared for you. Times are changing and . . . well, people always fear that which they do not understand. At one time, you never would have existed as you are. The daughters of a dragon and a human. But here you are. Beautiful and healthy—”

“And different,” Seva finished for her.

“And different. And many do not like different.”

“Do you want us to change?”

“Not on your lives,” she said adamantly. “Do you know why?” The five girls shook their golden heads, eyes just like their father’s staring back at Dagmar, waiting for what she was going to say next. “Because I never changed. I refused to. It wasn’t easy. Some among my family were quite mean about it. But I never changed, and do you know what happened? I met your father and Auntie Annwyl and Auntie Morfyd and all your uncles . . . and everything was wonderful. So how can I ask you to change when I never did?”

“We don’t want to go anywhere,” Seva told her, as always speaking for all five of them. “We like it here.”

“You’re not going anywhere. I won’t allow it. But, more importantly,” Dagmar added, “your father will never allow it. As far as that dragon is concerned, the suns rise and set on his girls. So you don’t need to hide in my study, worried that we’ll be sending you away.”

“That’s not why we come in here. We come to your study because if you don’t notice us, we get to hear all sorts of interesting stuff between you and the generals.”

Dagmar stood and pointed at the door.

As her daughters marched by, Dagmar noted, “You five are unbelievably sneaky.”

“We are, but Daddy says we get that from you.”

Dagmar followed her daughters into the hallway, turned, and locked her study door, but when she looked back, her daughters had already disappeared.

All right. Maybe her five youngest daughters made her a little nervous, but that was natural, wasn’t it?

As Dagmar headed down the hall, she saw Annwyl walking toward her, going out for her daily training, no doubt. Although she didn’t usually come this way.

“Where are you off to?” Dagmar asked.

“To check on the tower before I head to the training field.”

“Huh.” Dagmar caught the queen’s arm and stopped her. “Mind explaining to me what that is you’re building out there?”

Annwyl shrugged, her face frowning in confusion. “It’s a tower.”

“Yes, but—”

A loud crash from outside cut off Dagmar’s next words, and Annwyl stormed off down the hall while yelling at the stonemason who might or might not be able to hear her from this far inside the castle walls.