Brannie didn’t know them but that was a good thing. Annwyl talked often of those she hated and the names became memorable.

The name here was Breeton-Holmes and the family had a small castle well inside the Southland-Outerplains border. They weren’t a powerful family, but they were well situated, and had access to a lot of gossip, making them important to not only Keita but Dagmar Reinholdt, the Northland woman who ran Queen Annwyl’s lands in her absence and had bravely taken on Gwenvael the Handsome as her mate.

As soon as they were in range of the Breeton-Holmeses’ castle, Keita went into full royal mode, her back straightening, her expression unbelievably haughty.

It made Brannie want to hit her, but she wouldn’t.

Unless, of course, she had to.

The gates were immediately opened for them and the few guards that were around didn’t even question them. Aidan had just helped Keita to dismount when Lord Breeton-Holmes appeared.

That’s when the real performance began.

As soon as she saw her fellow royal, Keita burst into hysterical tears, throwing herself into the man’s arms as his wife and adult children instantly surrounded her.

Brannie didn’t even realize she’d started to roll her eyes until Aidan bumped into her, pushing her forward. That’s when she remembered that a good royal guard doesn’t roll his eyes at the idiot royals he was sworn to protect.

Everyone saw Brannie move forward, and the new royals were watching her closely, so she patted Keita’s shoulder and mumbled, “Now, now, my lady, we’re safe now.”

She heard Aidan snort behind her—which he quickly turned into a cough—and even she had to admit, she sounded less than concerned over the royal in her care.

It didn’t matter, though. Keita had an audience, and Brannie and her cohorts were soon forgotten.

Sobbing hysterically, Keita was helped toward the castle doors. Brannie followed but Keita abruptly stopped—walking and crying—and looked at her cousin over her shoulder.

“You’ll stay in the stables. A healer will be sent for your men.”

“The stables?” Brannie demanded.

Aidan’s hand landed on her shoulder. “Of course, my lady. Please let us know if you need anything else.”

“But—”

“Come on, Sarge. The lads need us.”

Sarge? Had he called her “sarge”?

Turning to remind Aidan of her hard-earned rank, she saw his eyes widen in warning.

With human royal guards, no rank higher than a sergeant would lead a royal protection detail. A captain would never leave the castle unless it was the captain to a queen.

Realizing Caswyn and Uther needed her more than Keita ever would, she grabbed the reins of two horses—one carrying Caswyn—and made her way to the stables. Aidan right behind her with Uther and his horse.

As they walked, Brannie quickly understood that these royals weren’t like the very wealthy ones that used to come see Annwyl. Of course, most of those royals never got past Dagmar Reinholdt. She spoke for the queen as her battle mage and vassal. Many thought Annwyl was harder to talk to, but they were wrong. Dagmar was tougher than many dragons Branwen knew. She was plotting and devious and dangerous despite her lack of battle skill and magicks.