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panicked scream, and held him up in front of his cousin’s face.
    She snorted. “If Izzy wants to see you—”
    Éibhear tightened his grip and the soldier began kicking and trying to pry Éibhear’s fingers off his throat.
    Disgusted, Brannie snarled, “You have become such a mean bastard.”
    “Izzy. Now. Take me to her.”
    “Put him down first.”
    Éibhear flung the soldier away and gestured for his cousin to move. She did, but not before tossing over her shoulder, “You’ve become just like your father!”
    He stared after Brannie. “Well, that was just mean. ”
     
     
    “And then,” Izzy went on while pacing in front of the god, “you not only impregnated Annwyl against her will, but you also deserted her when she needed you most!”
    By now Rhydderch Hael had rolled to his back, his gaze up at the big sky, annoyed sighs echoing throughout the world he’d dragged her to.
    “I mean, who does that ?” she demanded. “And then you planned to take Annwyl’s twins away from her rather than bringing Annwyl back from the dead, which we both know you could have done, but when my dear sweet Aunt Dagmar pissed you off, you tossed her and the children into a pit with Minotaurs!”
    “You know, Izzy, my memory’s excellent. I remember all—”
    She pointed a finger at him. “You wanted me to talk . . . so I’m talking!” She began to pace again and continued, “And then . . .”

    Éibhear followed Brannie into a tent, but he took one look around and raised his arms. “Where the hells is she?”
    “I don’t know.”
    He tilted his head and she held up her hands. “I’ll find her. I’ll find her.” She pushed past him. “Mean,” she snapped before she walked out.
    Letting out an annoyed sigh, Éibhear walked around the tent. It seemed Izzy was still a messy female. She had weapons everywhere . And every kind. She didn’t just have one battle axe, but battle axes from all the different armies she’d faced off against. Plus an array of long swords, short swords, curved swords, serrated swords . . . the woman liked swords. Blood-and-gore-covered clothes littered the floor and lots of missives from her queen and other generals in Annwyl’s army were scattered about. Yet there was only one book, on the floor, right by the head of the bed. It was a history on the first war against the Iron dragons in the west led by Éibhear’s royal grandfather.
    Crouching down, Éibhear flipped the cover open and read the inscription.

    For Izzy. Thought you’d like to read how it all began. Thank you for everything. You’ll always have my loyalty and I’ll always have the memory of you challenging a head-licking wolf. ~Gaius

    Gaius? Gaius the Rebel King from the west? Éibhear briefly remembered being introduced to the Rebel King a few hours after he’d killed the Rebel King’s bastard uncle, Overlord Thracius. But at the time, Éibhear had been so filled with rage and pain about the loss of his friend, Austell the Red, he wasn’t sure he’d know the dragon if he tripped over him in the market.
    But, more importantly, why was the Rebel King sending books to Izzy? Especially when Izzy rarely bothered to read? And not only books but books with rather affectionate and strangely bizarre inscriptions.
    Head-licking wolf?
    Éibhear heard approaching footsteps but knew from the sound that it wasn’t Izzy or his cousin. The tent flap was pulled back and a human male walked in.
    “Izzy, we need to talk about . . .” His words faded off when Éibhear slowly got to his feet and stood to his full human height.
    “Oh,” the man said, staring up at Éibhear. “I was, uh, looking for the general.”
    “Not here.”
    “Do you know when she’ll be back?”
    Éibhear shrugged.
    “Oh.”
    “I can give her a message.” Especially since he was curious who this man was.
    “No. I’ll just wait.”
    “Okay. We’ll just wait.” Éibhear crossed his arms over his chest and stared down at the human male . . . and