“That’s how you ended up in the Mì-runach?”

“The queen thought I’d be better suited in small groups of dragons who enjoyed sneaking up on others and smashing their heads into walls.” He held up the sheathed weapon. “Eventually I moved from smashing heads to a quick flick against the throat. A little messier but faster. Unlike you, I don’t need to revel in the destruction of others.”

“I don’t revel,” she lied, walking away in hopes of getting food from the cold, dead hands of Uther and Caswyn. “I just like to make sure they’re really dead. Nothing worse than when they pop up behind you. Still breathing.”

* * *

They ate their meal on large stumps, no one saying much.

When a large burp filled the silence, they all jumped a bit and everyone looked over at little Breena.

Picking venison out of her teeth with the tip of her finger, she stopped when she realized she was being stared at. “Wha’?”

“A little class, sister,” Nesta chastised.

Breena leaned in close, her nose against her sister’s cheek, and unleashed a burp that went on for a good two minutes.

Brannie saw Uther’s and Caswyn’s mouths drop, stunned as they gawked at the triplets. It wasn’t merely that Breena was still midway in her burp display or that Nesta, her jaw tight, was sitting there, silently raging. But that Edana had continued to shovel food into her mouth as if it was her last meal, completely ignoring or oblivious to her sisters’ antics.

As Brannie glanced over at Aidan, their gazes caught, held, and both ended up turning away, their stifled laughter shaking their bodies and causing tears.

When Breena finally finished, she kissed her sister on her cheek and went back to putting food in her mouth. Nesta’s brutal glare should have engulfed her sister in flames but, sadly, life didn’t work that way and she, too, eventually went back to eating her meal.

Once everyone had finished eating, it was Edana who pulled out a flask of Cadwaladr ale. She had the stopper pulled and the flask to her lips when Rhona snatched it from her hands and tossed the entire thing into the fire.

“You mad cow!” Nesta and Breena screeched in unison, the pair united in their need for ale. Edana just kept looking at her empty hand as if she expected the flask to reappear.

“We were drinking that,” Nesta barked at a steely-eyed Rhona.

“No. You weren’t.” Rhona looked over all of them. A sergeant in Her Majesty’s Army. But a general in the Cadwaladr Clan. “We are not on holiday. We have duties. Important duties that need to be accomplished quickly and efficiently. Can’t do that if you lot are drunk off your asses, now can we, Branwen the Awful?”

Blinking, Brannie looked up at her cousin. “What the battle-fuck did I do?”

“How many times have you gotten drunk one night, only to wake up the next day someplace else, with no idea how you got there?”