LITMIR.BIZ

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“My Lord?”

      “My notes from the last Elder meeting? I can’t find them any—”

      Charles pulled the scrolls out from the pile on the desk and held them out to Bram.

      Bram took the scrolls and shoved them into his travel bag. “Thank you.”

      “Of course, my Lord . . . Lord Bram . . . uh . . .”

      “I shouldn’t be gone too long on this trip,” he went on. “But if I am, don’t worry. My sister will be checking in quite often.”

      “Very good sir.”

      Pulling the strap of his bag across his shoulder, Bram walked out of his study and headed for the front door.

      “Don’t forget,” he informed Charles, “to pull together the research on the pirate attacks at the ports going up the coast. I’m supposed to meet with Duke Picton regarding that soon.”

      “I’ve already started, my Lord.”

      “Good. I’ll need to deal with that when I get back.” He stopped at the doorway leading to his small and very unkempt courtyard. He’d really have to get someone to clean it. He couldn’t ask Charles to do it himself. Bram needed him on more important matters at the moment—and didn’t he have a much bigger staff who handled these sorts of things? Maybe not . . .

      Bram glanced around, then demanded, “Blast! Where is that female?”

      “Right in front of you.”

      Bram nearly jumped out of his frail human skin when he realized that Ghleanna had gotten around him somehow.

      “Don’t do that.”

      “Don’t do what?”

      “Sneak around.”

      “Do you mean walk around? Because that’s what I actually did. I usually crouch more when I sneak—and then I kill someone.”

      Deciding not to argue with her, Bram bid Charles farewell and left the castle.

      “I guess we still have to pick up your brothers.”

      “We do.”

      “Where are they?”

      “The Battle of Fychan.”

      “And how far away is that?” he asked Ghleanna. “Is it a long flight? Will we make it there tonight?”

      They now stood outside his castle walls and Ghleanna gazed at him.

      “What?” he asked, beginning to run out of patience.

      Staring at him strangely, she said, “They’re at the Bolver Fields. You know . . . the Battle of Fychan.”

      “Right. Right. You already said that. And I asked how far off is that?”

      Her gaze narrowed a bit. “Really?”

      “Really what?”

      She took hold of his arm and headed west.

      “Where are we going?” he asked. “We’re not going to fly? Won’t walking to a battlefield be a bit dangerous?” At least for him.

      He asked questions but Ghleanna didn’t answer. But when they were about a half-mile from his castle, she led him up a ridge that overlooked the valley beneath.

      A valley filled with the dead and dying of what appeared to be a long-running battle.

      “Right outside your door,” she told him, staring at him with what could be either awe, pity, or disgust. “The Battle of Fychan has been outside your door for at least eight months. Everyone else in the nearby town as well as your servants, have abandoned the area except for you and poor Charles, who didn’t want to leave your precious books and papers unattended. I do hope you pay that lad well.”

      “You know . . .” Bram gazed out over the battlefield. “Thought I heard some screams . . . a few times. But I’ve been so busy.”

      She released his arm and, while shaking her head, walked off down the hill and to the field below.

      “Come on, peacemaker. Let’s get my brothers. We can debate when we need to start later.”

      Morbidly embarrassed but not willing to admit it, Bram followed Ghleanna onto the battlefield.

      Chapter 3

      “Good gods, you look like cold shit.”

      Ghleanna gazed at her brother and again wondered why she hadn’t smashed his bloody egg when she had the chance. Her mother would have eventually forgiven her.

      “Thank you, brother. And you look fat and happy. Having an easy time of it here, are you?”

      “Fat? Fat?” He speared the moaning human at his feet. “How dare you! My human form is in fighting trim, you callous cow.”

      “If you say so.”

      Addolgar glanced at the royal standing behind her. “Something’s attached itself to you, sister.” He shook the human remains off the spear he held. “Should I kill it for you?”

      Ghleanna reached back and caught Bram’s hand before he could walk off. She sensed him leaving and didn’t really blame him, but still . . . he had to learn to toughen up. Then again, Addolgar did have a reputation among the royals as an intolerant bastard who’d kill without a second’s thought or remorse. A reputation that, in some situations, was quite accurate.

      “He’s under my protection, Addolgar. So back off.”

      “He is?” He speared another human trying to crawl away. “Why?”

      “I’ve been charged with getting him to the Desert Lands and back. Alive,” she added so her brother was clear on this. “And a few of you lot are coming with me.”

      Addolgar glanced around the battlefield. The conflict seemed to have wound down and he appeared quite bored with it all. Her brother had done his damage and now there was nothing left to kill. Usually he’d return to his mate—unless she’d found her own battle to enjoy. It still amazed Ghleanna that instead of her brother finding a more sweet-natured female to complement his blackhearted and murderous nature, he’d taken to a dragoness with a worse reputation than his own. A dragoness even Ghleanna didn’t challenge unless she had no choice.

      “Might as well go with you. Nothing left to do here.”

      “Bored, are you?”

      “Killed everything to be killed. There’s nothing left but women and children—and they’re no fun to kill. Even when they scream and beg for mercy.”

      Bram yanked his arm away from her so he could walk off, but she caught the strap of his travel bag and held it. Knowing how precious the thing was to him, she knew he wouldn’t risk breaking it.

      “Who is here with you?”

      “A few of the younger ones. Cai, Hew, and Adain.”

      “What? None of my sisters are here?” She was unable to hide her disappointment.

      “They headed into the west for some new battle. But I think we weak male Cadwaladrs can handle protecting one royal, sister.”

      “I guess you’ll do.”

      “Gee. Thanks.”

      “Well, don’t just stand there, you big ox. Go get them so we can be off.”

      “All right.” He shoved the spear into her hands. “Kill the rest of this lot, would you? I’ll be right back.”

      Once Addolgar walked away, the royal asked, “You really do hate me, don’t you?”

      “Don’t be foolish. Of course, I don’t.” She began to work her way through the still-breathing humans at her feet, slamming

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