He slowly faced Caswyn and glared up at the dragon while the idiot continued to chew on that damn horse’s hooves. It seemed to take forever, with the tip of Brannie’s intimidating weapon pressed against Caswyn’s throat.

Although, honestly, the tension of the moment had little to do with the weapon and more to do with the She-dragon wielding it. Branwen the Awful had been trained to use every weapon that Aidan knew about. And she not only used them, she mastered them. Swords, axes, war hammers, spears, pikes, bows . . . the list went on.

Her skills had even managed to impress her unimpressible mother, the great dragon army general, Ghleanna the Decimator.

And now, Branwen the Awful coldly stared up at Caswyn while he continued to chew.

Black smoke curled from Brannie’s human nostrils and Aidan feared he’d have to sacrifice himself to save his friends. Not that he wanted to, but it might be his only choice....

Aidan finally looked away from the imminent death before him and down at the ground. Then he lifted his head and looked out over the battlefield below.

Annwyl the Bloody and Iseabail the Dangerous had combined the legions under their direct command to take on Duke Salebiri’s Zealot army in the territories between the Quintilian Provinces and Annaig Valley. And, not surprisingly considering their number, their side was winning. Moving forward steadily. Easily gaining ground.

But from this vantage point, halfway up the mountainside, Aidan could tell that something was terribly wrong. He could hear it.

“Brannie.”

“Forget it. They’re both dead. It’s the least my horse deserves.”

“No, Brannie. Listen. Do you hear it?”

She did, her head tilting slightly. Their eyes met and Brannie immediately began to lower her weapons.

Realizing they didn’t have much time, Aidan began, “We better—”

The ground jerked hard, all of them stumbling back, almost falling.

That’s when the sound became clear. Coming out over the morning air. A song. A prayer.

No. Aidan quickly understood he was wrong. Not a prayer. A powerful spell.

The ground shook again, but this time the quake was so strong that none of them kept their footing as the very mountain they stood upon broke apart.

“Shift!” Brannie ordered seconds before she disappeared beneath the earth. The rest of them followed her into the blackness.

* * *

Devastated. Panicked. The twins ran into the main camp looking for help from those who could give it.

The queen was gone and, unless they got assistance from those with powerful magicks like their own, she would be gone forever.

Like him, Talan knew his sister was not considering the option that their mother could already be dead. She’d been dead once and they’d gotten her back. So a simple trap could never kill her.

That’s what they believed. That’s what they had to believe.

And, for once, it wasn’t just their selfish royal needs that made their mother indispensable. The Southland people needed her. The troops needed her. Legions of soldiers who counted on the Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle to lead them into battle. If she was willing to risk all for her people and her land, then so were they. But without Annwyl?