Eir grinned at her and Dagmar counted at least twelve scars on that face, one of them a huge gash that ran from her hairline to under her chin. “Thanks. I owe you one. For the socks,” she added and laughed.

“You’re very welcome.” Dagmar rubbed the wolf’s head and back as he got to his feet. “Take good care of this one. He has a wonderful temperament.”

“Only when he’s in the mood.” She pulled her heavy pack on and headed off. “Good night to you, Dagmar.”

“And to you, Eir.” She smiled at the wolf. “Good-bye, new friend.” The wolf nuzzled her nose and padded off after its handler.

She watched them disappear into the woods until the door of Esyld’s house opened. The dragoness walked out, using a wet cloth to wipe blood from her hands. “It’s done.”

Chapter 16

Izzy stared at her mother. The early morning light poured through the bedroom window she stood in front of, making her look even more beautiful than Izzy already thought she was. All that curly, long black hair and that soft, womanly body. Not at all like Izzy with her giant feet, too-long arms, and absolutely no curves to speak of. There wasn’t much about herself that she’d consider womanly … or soft.

She was just plain old Izzy whose life was completely unraveling at the moment.

“What do you mean I can’t go?”

“Was I unclear in my wording? I’m not sending you off to war. You’re barely seventeen winters.”

“My eighteenth is a few months off.”

“Then it won’t be a painfully long wait.”

How could her mother be so flippant about this? Everything Izzy had been training for, everything she wanted to do was moments from her grasp. They wanted her to go with one of the legions to fight a baron lord near the Southland coasts. He’d created his own army and was said to be preparing to march on Dark Plains. Annwyl, as always, wanted to attack first.

Izzy’s entire training unit would be going, and it could be the perfect opportunity for Izzy to prove her worth to Annwyl. How could her mother just take that from her?

“This isn’t fair.” She hated that she sounded like a whining child, but it wasn’t fair!

Talaith sighed and faced the window, looking out over the courtyard. “The world is not fair, Izzy. But you’ll go nowhere until I give my leave. And don’t bother trying to get your father to change my mind. We went round and round about it for the last two days, and my mind is made up.”

Izzy knew if her father couldn’t convince her mum, no one could.

Tears filling her eyes, Izzy stormed out of her mother’s room and down the castle stairs. Her comrades, a few of her fellow trainees heading off to the coast in the next day or so, called to her as she quickly walked through the courtyard, but she ignored them, wanting to be away. She even heard her father call out to her, but she ignored him as well as she ran out the castle gates and toward the river. Once she reached it, she stopped at a random tree and punched it. Bark flew everywhere and the five-hundred-year-old tree jerked a bit. Then Izzy burst into tears.

None of this was fair. She was a good soldier. Very good. And she had every intention of being the best warrior. She wanted to be the Queen’s Champion. Hell, she wanted to be the Queen’s General one day. But all that took work and time. Every moment delayed seemed to take her dream farther and farther from her until it was nothing but the pipe dream of a silly girl.

“Why are you crying?”

Izzy turned toward the voice, her gaze rudely examining the girl standing in front of her. She had straight black hair that reached her shoulders and black eyes. She sported a large wound on one side of her face that appeared nearly healed up and she wore a chain-mail shirt and leggings but no surcoat. Izzy would guess they were about the same age, but Izzy damn well knew better.

“You’re a dragon.”

“I am. I’m Branwen the Black.”

And based on that wound on her face and the other bruises and scratches, Branwen the Black had been in battle.

Izzy hated her.

“I’m Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith.” The most difficult, uncaring, unfeeling mother in the world!

The girl stepped closer, not realizing how jealous Izzy was of her at this very moment. If Izzy had a temper like Annwyl’s she would have hit her by now. Oh, if only she had a temper like Annwyl’s!

“So why do you cry?” she asked.

Izzy swallowed back her tears and anger. “My mum.” She swallowed again, almost losing that battle to her tears. “She won’t let me go off to combat with the rest of my comrades.”

“How old are you?”

Izzy glared. “How old are you?” she shot back.

“Eighty-three.”

“Oh.” Damn.

Then Branwen grinned. “But for dragons that makes me about your age, I reckon. And me mum gives me such a hard time. She acts like I’m still a hatchling. She won’t let me go into any battles by myself. I always have to be by her side. My brother’s not yet a hundred and he gets to go into battle by himself. It’s not fair.”

“It’s not! But they never see that, do they?”

“No, they don’t. Becomes a real pain in the arse, doesn’t it?”

Izzy finally smiled. “It does.”

Branwen looked Izzy up and down.

“So you done crying now, Iseabail, Daughter of Talaith? Because I must tell you that from experience, tears never work with the mothers. Only the fathers. So why bother?”