Aidan sat down on one of the wood beams across from his sister. “Where’s our mother?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her in—”

“Years?”

“Months. I don’t think she’s missed me, though.”

“I hear there’s going to be celebrations tonight in the Main Hall. Are you coming?”

Before Aidan could even finish that question, his sister’s face was curling into an expression of utter disgust at even the suggestion.

“That’s fine,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to come.”

“Good.” She had her legs pulled close. Her arms around her calves, her chin resting on her knees. “I’m glad you’re alive.”

“Me too.”

“Still . . . something’s wrong. What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“I am.”

“Aidan?”

“Hmm?”

“With the war over . . . will we have to go back?”

“You mean to Stone Castle?”

Stone Castle was the home of the House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah, where Aidan’s kin had lived for centuries. The castle itself was built from the mountain face. But then the Zealots had launched an attack and Aidan’s mother, sisters, and one brother had fled to Garbhán Isle. His father, as far as Aidan knew, was still living among the dwarves deep inside the Western Mountains. And his brother Ainmire, who’d joined with the Zealots, even going so far as to remove his eyes . . .

Well, Aidan wasn’t exactly sure, but chances were great he was long dead.

“Don’t worry, little sister,” Aidan promised, “the queen currently owes me a great debt. So even if our mother wants you to go back with her, I’ll make sure you don’t leave Garbhán Isle unless you absolutely want to.”

His sister’s smile was small but brilliant because she used it so rarely.

“Thank you, Aidan.”

Aidan reached out and grabbed his sister’s hand. “Anything for you.”

* * *

Gwenvael walked up the castle stairs with his five youngest offspring hanging from him like monkeys. They’d met him out in the courtyard and he knew that no one had told them he’d arrived. They had simply known.

Laughing, the six of them made their way into the hall but stopped when a loaf of bread flew past Gwenvael’s head. Although, for once, it hadn’t been directed at him.

“Daddy!” Arlais called out when she spotted him. “Thank the gods!” She rushed over to him and said, “Now that you’re back, you can get control of this woman.”

“You mean your mother?”

“It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.”

“I did,” Dagmar said, still sitting at the dining table, working on a stack of papers and attempting to enjoy her breakfast. “And yet I foolishly allowed you to live.”

“Oh!” Arlais snarled. “You are a horrid mother!”