Aidan couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “Aye, such evil.”

“Shut up,” the princess growled at him, before returning her focus to her mother. “I’m merely trying to keep Brannie from getting in my way.”

“Then figure out another way,” the queen told Keita. “I will not have my dear Aidan’s heart broken because you can’t find another non-sexual or non-poisonous way to distract your cousin.”

Aidan blinked. “My heart?”

The queen patted his shoulder. “I’m saving you.” She leaned in and whispered, “She’s just like her mother, our Brannie is, and I don’t think you’d enjoy being one of many.”

“Wait . . . what?”

But before the queen could say more, Ghleanna returned with a clearly despondent but resigned Branwen behind her.

“It’s settled,” the general informed the queen.

“Good.” The queen stepped close to her niece. She raised her hand and gently pushed strands of black hair behind Brannie’s ear. “What you’re doing is more important than you realize, Branwen. And greatly appreciated.”

Brannie nodded, her gaze down. “We’ll take care of it”—Brannie lifted her head, dark eyes locking with Rhiannon’s—“my queen.”

Without another word, she walked off. But where she might be going, Aidan didn’t know. The queen still had to release them.

Brannie seemed to realize that after a minute. She stopped, swung her arm wildly at the air, and bellowed, “Would someone mind letting me the battle-fuck out of here?”

The queen leaned over and loudly whispered, “She’s also moody like her mother. . . .”

Chapter Five

“Why isn’t Uncle Gwenvael back yet?” Talwyn asked her father.

“He’ll be along.”

She didn’t trust her father’s glib reply but she was just so glad to see him, she decided not to argue. Instead she hugged him again and desperately attempted to ignore the ridiculous drama going on several feet from her.

“Oh, Daddy!” Rhi cried. “It was horrible! Horrible!”

“My poor, perfect, perfect daughter!” Uncle Briec glared over Rhi’s shoulder at Talwyn. “I thought I told you to protect my perfect offspring, demon child!”

“She’s breathing, isn’t she?” Talwyn told him, one eyebrow purposely raised to antagonize him. Because, honestly, was all this necessary?

Had her cousin been through a lot? Yes. Of course. Talwyn would never deny that. But she was still alive and breathing so all the sobbing and accusations were more than Talwyn would ever be willing to tolerate.

“Of course,” she felt the need to add, “if you want your perfect, perfect daughter not to suffer, I can always put a pillow over her head when she’s asleep. And all her troubles will be gone”—she snapped her fingers—“like that.”

Now she had father and daughter glaring at her.

“Why do you have to be so horrible?” Rhi demanded, her arms still around her father’s big neck, her tiny feet miles from the ground because he was still holding her up like she was a fragile doll.

The kind Talwyn had used for archery practice when she was a five-year-old.

“Because my daddy loves me whether I’m perfect or not,” Talwyn replied. “So, I can be as horrible as I want.”