He heard his sister’s snort in his head, could imagine her dramatically rolling her eyes. So?
Exactly. I fear, sister . . . I fear I will never find Vateria. And I’m thinking maybe we should no longer be bothering.
Aggie was silent for a bit before she replied, Before you left, brother, I would have punched you in the throat for even suggesting we let her go. That we not find her.
And I would have let you, he answered.
But I’ve got the Senate on my ass; Aunt Laetitia going on and on about the Gabinius family and how they’re becoming a problem—and they kind of are; the grain imports are low this harvest, which means overpricing from the merchants; and there’s something unclean in the water . . . so I must deal with that.
Gaius grinned. You’re enjoying it all, aren’t you?
I am. To be honest, other than worrying about you looking for Vateria, I haven’t thought about that slit in ages.
Good.
Besides, we might have a bigger worry.
Which is?
Rumor is that Annwyl has successfully pushed the killer Chramnesind cults out of the Southlands territories . . . and right into ours.
Balls.
Exactly. I have several legions out looking for—
No. Call them back.
But—
Trust me. They tried the same thing with Annwyl. Pulling her army apart. Then they’ll strike. So pull our legions back.
All right. But what about the priests and priestesses who reside in our empire? Who expect our protection.
Gaius stood tall, his eyes narrowing. Where did you send the first legion?
To the Priests of the God of Suffering.
He knew the location. Knew of the head priest. All right.
And when will you be home?
Soon.
“Gaius?” Brannie asked. “Everything all right?”
“Everything is fine. Just checking with my sister.”
Gaius faced Brannie and pulled the sword she had hanging from her belt and swung it once, cutting Didacus’s head in half. He handed the blade back to her.
“Let’s go. We head back to Sovereign territories immediately.”
She stared at the gore-covered weapon for several seconds before looking up at Gaius.
“What happened to your own sword?”
“Gave it away. But I need a new gladius. These oversized, cumbersome Southlander swords are ridiculous.”
“What’s wrong with our swords?” Brannie demanded, the pair walking away seconds before Didacus’s body returned to its natural dragon form, destroying many trees in the process.
“They’re useless.”
“Mine seemed to do fine with your cousin’s head!”
Brigida had been napping on a pile of books when she snapped awake. For a few seconds, she was panicked. She felt lost. Incoherent. She hadn’t felt that way in so long, she was almost positive she’d been a young one again. Still hanging on to her mother’s tail.
“If you’d been anyone else,” a voice from a dark corner told her, “you’d have woken up screaming.”
Brigida spun around, her tail sending magick text flying across the room, the tip raised, ready to strike.
After a moment of silence, the darkness cleared and Brigida let out a breath. “It’s just you.”
Princess Rhianwen gazed at Brigida in a way that made her feel—for once—surprisingly uncomfortable. No one made her feel uncomfortable. Brigida made others feel uncomfortable. She enjoyed it, feeding off their fear.
But this mostly human child . . .
“What do you want, girl?” Brigida snapped.
Only two of The Three had come back a few months after spending some time with them royals and the Cadwaladr clan. That hadn’t surprised Brigida, though. Talwyn needed to be near her mother. She needed to learn from her. But the boy and the princess . . . they needed to be here. The boy, he’d taken on the other Abominations. Training them. Organizing them. Just like his father, that one. He didn’t like being in charge, but he accepted it when it was necessary. And the girl . . . to be honest, Brigida hadn’t paid much attention to her since she’d returned. They spent their time reading books. Doing rituals. But never together. They barely spoke. And when the girl was feeling lonely, she went outside and spent time with the other Abominations and the monk and two Kyvich witches that the twins had brought with them so many months back. Her “friends,” she called them.
Witches shouldn’t have friends. Not ones that had real work to do. And them three, Talan, Talwyn, and Rhianwen, all had work to do.
But needing friends. Needing family . . . that just made the girl weak in Brigida’s mind. Weak and useless. Something Brigida had no time for.
“What were you dreaming, Auntie Brigida?”
“Don’t you never mind, girl. Just an old She-dragon dreaming of the—”
“Stop lying to me,” the girl said, for the first time sounding dangerous. “We don’t have time for your lies and we both know it.”