“Then I feel sorry for you because no one should go through life like that.”

“Right. I should stumble along instead, feeling nothing but pain for everyone. Like a walking open wound. That does sound like fun.”

“With the bad comes the good, Éibhear.”

“You’re amazing,” he said, shaking his head. “After al that you’ve been through, al that you’ve seen and lost. Everything that you’ve kil ed. With what the gods did to your mother and Annwyl—to you. Marking you like chattel,” he said, gesturing to her shoulder, where the mark of the god Rhydderch Hael had been branded into her flesh so many years ago. “After al that, you can stil walk around talking about feelings? About caring for others’ pain?” He laughed and it was like having knives thrown at her. “That’s quite . . . astounding.” And with that, Éibhear the Blue headed off down the hil , away from the castle and his kin. Izzy had the feeling he wouldn’t be back. That he was going to try to catch up with Meinhard so he could start his new life in the Northlands, away from everyone and everything that he’d known.

And she knew she was right when he said, as he disappeared into the darkness, “Good-bye, Izzy. And good luck.” After he was gone, she stood there until Brannie came up behind her and stood next to her.

“You al right?” her cousin asked.

“Wel enough.”

“I wouldn’t let what he said bother you, Iz. He’s just—”

“Is it supposed to be this bad?” Izzy asked about the change every young dragon was supposed to go through as they got older. “Honestly?” Brannie shook her head. “When Fal went through it, I mean we al do, but he mostly just whined about the misery of his soul and read dark poetry.

The pub girls loved it. But he was never this . . .”

“Empty?”

“Wel . . . I was going to say bitter, but you always were more dramatic than me.” Brannie tugged on the dress Keita had chosen for Izzy. It was a very dark blue and it sparkled. “Do you want to go for a walk, Iz? So we can talk?” Izzy briefly closed her eyes, let out a breath. “Brannie, my friend, my cousin, the last thing I want to do is talk. I want ale, and I want to dance, and I want to forget that Éibhear the Miserable ever existed.”

Brannie put her arm around Izzy’s shoulders and steered her back down the hil and toward the castle. “I can help you with those first two, dead easy. But you’re on your own with that last one.”

“Yeah,” Izzy sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

A week after the feast ended, about one hundred leagues from Garbhán Isle, Rhona sat by the lake as human, trying to see over her shoulder at the mark that Vigholf had branded her with, Claiming her.

Unlike her own kind, he’d used lightning to brand her with that mark and she’d never say it out loud, but . . . ow!

“Here,” Vigholf said, crouching behind her and careful y placing ointment on the area. “This should help with the pain.” Gods, he was just so sweet, but not what she was used to. Fire Breather males usual y let the pain linger for a while, so their females knew who they belonged to. At least that was their logic. The females gave it back to them in ful , though, when their turn came.

“That feel better?”

“It does. Thanks.”

They’d split off from Ragnar, Keita, and their troops so they could get some time together alone. Once they made it back to the Northlands, they’d both be busy. The civil war in the Provinces was heating up and Vigholf would be taking his troops in to join Gaius’s while Ragnar and Meinhard’s troops would be dealing with the Ice Land dragons who’d crossed borders during the Horde’s absence. Rhona would be making weapons for the troops in the Northlands and then in the Provinces. The few days they’d have alone now would be it for quite some time. So they planned to enjoy it.

Once he’d taken care of her mark, Vigholf grasped her face between his hands and gazed into her eyes.

“I love you so much, Rhona.”

Rhona went up on her knees and kissed him hard. Her body stil trembling from the way he’d just taken her, she stil knew that she’d more than happily let him take her again. And again.

“I love you,” she said when she pul ed back a bit.

Vigholf petted her cheek, smiled at her, then announced, “I’m starving.”

Rhona crossed her eyes. “Of course you are.”

“Want to hunt something down out here or go into town?”

“I don’t real y . . .” Rhona smiled and stood.

“What? What’s wrong?”

“Look.” With real happiness, Rhona walked over to the white mare standing a few feet away. “Hel o, you,” she said. “I’m so happy to see you again.”

The mare nuzzled her and Rhona stroked her forehead.

“Wait,” Vigholf said from behind her. “If she’s here, where’s that mean bastard of a stal —arrgggh!” Rhona glanced over her shoulder to see that the chestnut stal ion had run over Vigholf, slamming him to the ground. Then he gal oped back and began to pummel the dragon with his hooves.

“Honestly,” Rhona said to the mare. “They’re both so pathetic.” Rhona leaned in and whispered to her equine friend, “But by the gods, I do love him more than I could ever say.” They briefly watched the males. “No matter how astoundingly ridiculous.”