Brannie went to Caswyn’s side and, with amazing ease, lifted the dragon in human form onto her shoulders. Aidan knew from vast experience that even in his human form, Caswyn was no “easy carry,” but Brannie made it appear effortless.

Maybe for her it was.

Aidan had seen the great General Ghleanna carry two dragons at a time off a battlefield and not even appear winded. Why should it be any different for the daughter of Ghleanna?

As soon as Aidan came to Uther’s side, the dragon began to argue about how he needed no help. Aidan quickly slapped his hand over his friend’s face. Uther’s voice was known to carry when he was drunk or badly wounded.

“Do me a favor, old friend,” Aidan whispered. “Keep your mouth shut.”

Uther began to argue behind Aidan’s hand.

“Unless you want Brannie the Awful to come back here and finish you off herself, you’ll stop talking and do what I say.”

The one eye not swollen shut widened. Getting put down like an old horse held no allure to Uther, so he put his arm around Aidan’s shoulder and together they silently followed the others.

* * *

Morfyd the White pried her niece’s blood-covered hands from her blood-covered face.

“Let me see, Rhian,” she begged.

“It hurts,” Rhian whispered.

“I know, love. I know,” she soothed.

Morfyd pressed her niece’s hands into her lap and gently washed the blood from Rhian’s eyes while all around them was chaos.

Ancient mountains had crumbled this day, the land split apart. All because someone had taught Zealots spells so ancient and powerful, the casters didn’t realize that even if the twins hadn’t destroyed them, the power of those spells would have completely drained them. Leaving nothing but burnt-out husks.

Of course, the twins hadn’t let that happen. Combining Talwyn’s power over nature with Talan’s dominion over death—even if he still had no power over human dead yet—had created a mighty force. The damage done would have been quicker, though, had Rhian been with them. But the spells cast had wounded her, and Morfyd was still trying to find out how much.

While she worked slowly, sensitive to her niece’s fear, anarchy reigned. The panic of horses, the screams of soldiers, the angry growls and snarls of war dogs as they all tried to move to safety.

And the one thing that could get control of them all, that could calm the men, the horses, and the dogs, and unite what was left of the legions . . .

That one thing was gone.

Annwyl. Gone.

And no one had any idea what had happened to her or where she was.

The blood removed, Morfyd was still unclear on how bad the damage to her niece was.

“I need you to open your eyes, Rhian.”

“I’m afraid.”

“I know, love.” So was Morfyd. But she’d never say that to Rhian. Since birth, her precious niece had been more sensitive than anyone else among their kin. Not weak. She would never be weak. No, she was sensitive. She felt more deeply, lived more heartily, loved with her entire being. But she could also break more easily and all that lovely goodness curdle. That was something none of them wanted. Not only because they all loved their sweet, loving Rhian, but because she was the only thing that balanced out the twins and their power. Without her, Morfyd could easily see her niece and nephew heading down a path from which they might never return.