He brought her even closer until his breath hit her in the face—an unpleasant experience to be sure. His eyes examined her closely before he roared, “Where’s me son?”

Chapter 33

Gwenvael took Dagmar’s hand. He’d hoped to take his time walking back to Garbhán Isle. He had much to discuss with her and didn’t want his family’s dramas to distract either one of them from the fact that they were in love … At least they’d better be, because he bloody well loved her.

Unfortunately their talk about the future would have to wait until he had Dagmar safely inside Garbhán Isle and the rest of his family dealing with any of the holes in their defenses.

“We need to talk to Ragnar,” she said breathlessly as he dragged her through the trees to a clearing. “Find out how he got here and then—”

“I know. I know. It’ll be—”

That tail blindsided him, Dagmar’s screamed warning giving him only enough time to release her hand before he was sent flying into the forest. He shifted in mid-flight and when his body hit a tree, he plowed right through it and many others. He slid to a stop on his back and looked up into the old face of Olgeir the Wastrel.

“You.”

Gwenvael grinned, slowly getting to his feet. “Hello, Olgeir. How are those granddaughters of yours doing? Such sweet, affectionate, saucy little slags.”

“Where’s me son, Ruiner?”

“Planning to become warlord. I hear he’s quite pretty. My mother will enjoy helping him.”

“I’m sure she will. And tell me, Fire Breather”—he brought his tail around—“is this one of your pets?”

The old bastard had little Izzy dangling from his tail.

“Ahhh. I see she is. Then maybe she’ll be my pet now.”

“You can’t be that big a—” The blast of lightning to his right side sent Gwenvael slamming through more trees.

At the sight of his niece, he’d completely forgotten to notice that Olgeir wasn’t alone.

Dagmar stood up, quickly removing her spectacles so she could wipe dirt from them. She did a poor job of it, but it still took off enough soil to allow her to see the hole Gwenvael’s body made through the forest.

“She’s not from here.”

Dagmar looked behind her. Two Lightnings eyed her closely. They were big and purple and definitely true Northlanders.

“You become the pet of one of them?” There were times in her life when she could talk herself out of almost anything. And there were times when she should run.

She ran.

Talaith stood by one of the many lakes of Dark Plains. She stood and she stared out over the calm water.

“Now you know the truth. Don’t you feel better for it?”

Her entire body taut with rage, Talaith glared up at the god who stood beside her. “How do I make you go away?”

Rhydderch Hael laughed. “You don’t. The doorway is open now. I can come and go from this plane of existence or any other as I please.”

“Lovely.”

“Don’t you prefer knowing the truth?”

“I’d prefer that you f**k off.”

She felt his hand on her shoulder. “Talaith, I only told you the truth because I felt you should know exactly how much your only daughter loves you. How much she was willing to sacrifice for—”

The back of Talaith’s fist met his throat, crushing part of it with the force of her move.

The god bent over, coughing and laughing. She could hear the bones and cartilage that she’d crushed immediately repairing themselves. As she stormed away, he was once again able to speak.

“Don’t go away angry, Talaith,” he said, still laughing at her. “I was only trying to help.”

Talaith walked quickly back into Garbhán Isle, pushing past soldiers and servants. She needed to find Izzy. She needed to apologize, to beg her to forgive her foolish mother for letting another god manipulate her.

The crowd moving entirely too slowly for her at the moment, Talaith cut behind the stables and around toward the front gates where she knew Izzy had run. She’ll head to Dark Glen. She’ll head to Annwyl. And Annwyl would hold her there until Talaith found them. Feeling more and more desperate about her daughter, Talaith began to run. She’d nearly cleared the last stable when something barreled into her. Talaith’s feet went out from under her and her body pitched forward, but strong hands grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back.

“Sorry about that,” a woman said kindly. Talaith saw worn boots covered in mud and an even more worn brown cape scraping the ground. The hood of the cape covered the woman’s face, but Talaith barely spared one of Annwyl’s warriors another glance.

“You all right?” the woman asked. If Talaith had a moment, she would have heard the concern in that voice, but her daughter was all that mattered.

“I’m fine.” She removed the hands still on her waist and took off running, a sudden, horrible fear for her daughter nearly choking her.

Gwenvael had no weapons, no armor, and no spiked tail—and if he survived, he’d make sure to yell at his brothers about it, too—but the Lightning trying to kill him had all those things.

He sent out a call to Addolgar, knowing he was closest to Fearghus’s den, but he still had Izzy to worry about. He didn’t have the time to wait for the others to get to them, so he’d simply have to risk his pretty face.

The sword flashed and Gwenvael jumped back, gripping the tree next to him. As the blade missed him by inches, he lifted the tree and tore it from the ground. He swung it and it slammed into the blade as it was making a return trip. The sword cut through the trunk with ease, and Gwenvael knew his head would be next. So he threw the remains of the tree into the face of the Lightning. It shoved the big bastard back, and Gwenvael rammed into him, dropping both of them to the ground.