Brannie gawked at him a long while, her head cocked to one side, before she asked, “Who is a Protector of the Throne?”

“Keita.”

“Keita who?”

“Keita the Viper. Your cousin.”

Again, Brannie gawked at him before asking, “Why are you lying to me?”

“I’m not. Your cousin is a Protector of the Throne. Has been for”—he shrugged—“at least a century.”

“Keita?” she asked again. “My Keita?”

“Yes.” He sat up. “How could you not know? Everyone in your family has known since that cousin of yours—the green one—tried to have her killed for betraying her mother. Didn’t any of them tell you?”

“They did, but . . . I thought they were joking!”

* * *

Brannie couldn’t believe this.

Keita, a Protector of the Throne? Keita?

The same vapid female who’d once asked Brannie, “Are there any spells that would stop you from growing? What dragon is going to want a female the same size as him?”

That Keita was a Protector of the Throne?

“How is this possible?” she finally asked Aidan. “I’m shocked.”

“I can tell. Éibhear never told you? Briec? Gwenvael? Who can’t keep his mouth shut about anything?”

“No, no. I . . . think they did. But . . . again . . . I thought they were joking!”

She threw up her hands. “Even Izzy thought they were joking.”

Aidan laughed.

“What’s so funny?”

“You and Izzy. The pair of you. On a battlefield, no one wants to face you. But off the battlefield, you two are like little girls. Gossiping. Getting in trouble. And, like true Cadwaladrs, drinking too much.”

“That’s always my cousins’ fault.”

“You’re actually blaming your cousins?”

“Of course.”

Brannie stretched out beside Aidan. “I still can’t believe it. Keita? A Protector of the Throne.”

“You underestimated her all these years. Now, don’t you feel bad?”

“No.”

Rolling onto his stomach again, Aidan covered his face with another, smaller blanket.

“Are you actually about to go to sleep?” she asked, flabbergasted.

He lifted the blanket a bit so she could hear him clearly. “I am not about to sit up all night listening to you analyze the truth about your cousin simply because Izzy isn’t here to do it with you.”

“But so much happened today. The battle. The mountain. Uncle Bercelak being released like a horrifying bird of prey. And, to top it off, Keita’s a Protector of the Throne. How do you just go to sleep after all that?”

“By closing my eyes. Try it.”

“I’ll be up all night.”

“Please don’t be. I know you, Branwen. If you’re up all night, you’ll keep me up all night.”

“I will?”

“We both know you won’t shut up.”

She shrugged, nodded her head. “True. If Izzy were here, I’d just talk to her. But she’s not.”

“I’m not nearly as chatty as the Great Iseabail the Dangerous.”

“No. You’re what we call a listener, which is of no use to me at the moment.”

“Perhaps a servant can get you some warm wine. That helps some to sleep.”