smart.”
A wheedling tone entered his voice; she recognized a mild compulsion spell and threw a ward around herself.
“You will not force me,” she ground out, “to do anything.”
Bran closed from behind her. “I’m done with my part of Dewi’s assignment.” He jerked his chin back toward the dragons where the adults had hunkered in the thick grass to play with Dewi’s brood.
Aislinn glanced at the riot of scale colors and heard the adults crooning to the younglings in the dragons’ tongue. A place deep inside her cracked open. If she hadn’t been so insufferably stubborn, she wouldn’t have lost Fionn’s child. Her empty womb mocked her. Maybe being alone was her destiny—until she was killed battling the dark.
“I’ve been listening with half an ear,” Bran went on. “Gwydion is correct. Ye must wait until we are all reassembled. ’Tis possible Nidhogg or Dewi will know far more about the Harpies than we do. Nidhogg in particular, since he is truly ancient.”
“Dewi doesn’t know anything,” Aislinn muttered. “I already asked.”
“Ye willna like to hear this,” Gwydion’s voice was soothing and she recognized more magic, “but if Aello wants Fionn for herself, he’ll be safe enough.”
Aislinn doubled up a fist, but Gwydion caught her arm before she could swing at him.
“I told you, ye wouldna like it, but it means Fionn’s life isna in any immediate danger.”
“Fucking great,” she spat. “You won’t let me leave, and now you just told me that conniving bitch has her sights set on Fionn.”
“Ye knew that afore he said aught,” Bran pointed out. “The Harpy told you.” He shrugged pragmatically. “Not only are they not particularly intelligent, they never were good with subterfuge.”
Rune bolted upright, displacing the raven who cawed her displeasure and flew to a nearby window ledge. “Lemurians,” the wolf snarled, and hackles rose along his spine.
Aislinn sent magic thrumming outward and felt like the worst kind of fool. While she’d been arguing like a thwarted ten-year-old, a Lemurian horde had gathered outside Fionn’s gates. “Can they fight?” She pointed at the dragons.
“I surely hope so,” Bran said.
“What are their names if I need their attention?”
“The black one is Royce and the copper one is Kra,” Bran said. “They’re males. Their mates are Vaughna, who’s green, and Berra, who’s red.”
Kra trumpeted, and Berra herded the young dragons through a side door into the manor house. Once they disappeared, she spun, clearly intent on taking up a post to defend the entrance.
Rune growled and skinned back his lips, showing his fangs. The muscles in his haunches bunched, but Aislinn knelt next to him. “Not yet,” she said. “We need a coordinated approach.” Broadcasting her mind voice, she called Corin, Daniel, Eve, and Timothy. “Organize your people. Come to the front of the manor house. We’re under attack!”
“Exactly what I was trying to get across about Fionn,” Gwydion muttered. “A coordinated approach where we doona fragment our efforts.”
“I don’t need a sermon.” Aislinn speared him with her unwavering gaze. “You’re the damned warrior magician. Come on. Craft a battle plan. Now. They’re almost upon us.”
Humans poured out of the house and from the manor’s many outbuildings. Grim-faced and determined, they formed groups according to their gifts. Cronin, Daniel, Eve, and Timothy marched to Aislinn.
“I sense Old Ones,” Timothy snarled. At Aislinn’s nod, he made a sour face. “Bastards.”
“Tell us where we can do the most good,” Eve said. Tabitha flanked her, lips etched into a growl. Magic bubbled around the humans, creating interlocking wards.
“At least there’re no dark gods.” Bran spat into the dirt. “Or they’ve done a stellar job of cloaking their presence.”
“What about Fionn’s wards around the manor?” Aislinn demanded. “Won’t they protect us?”
“If
A wheedling tone entered his voice; she recognized a mild compulsion spell and threw a ward around herself.
“You will not force me,” she ground out, “to do anything.”
Bran closed from behind her. “I’m done with my part of Dewi’s assignment.” He jerked his chin back toward the dragons where the adults had hunkered in the thick grass to play with Dewi’s brood.
Aislinn glanced at the riot of scale colors and heard the adults crooning to the younglings in the dragons’ tongue. A place deep inside her cracked open. If she hadn’t been so insufferably stubborn, she wouldn’t have lost Fionn’s child. Her empty womb mocked her. Maybe being alone was her destiny—until she was killed battling the dark.
“I’ve been listening with half an ear,” Bran went on. “Gwydion is correct. Ye must wait until we are all reassembled. ’Tis possible Nidhogg or Dewi will know far more about the Harpies than we do. Nidhogg in particular, since he is truly ancient.”
“Dewi doesn’t know anything,” Aislinn muttered. “I already asked.”
“Ye willna like to hear this,” Gwydion’s voice was soothing and she recognized more magic, “but if Aello wants Fionn for herself, he’ll be safe enough.”
Aislinn doubled up a fist, but Gwydion caught her arm before she could swing at him.
“I told you, ye wouldna like it, but it means Fionn’s life isna in any immediate danger.”
“Fucking great,” she spat. “You won’t let me leave, and now you just told me that conniving bitch has her sights set on Fionn.”
“Ye knew that afore he said aught,” Bran pointed out. “The Harpy told you.” He shrugged pragmatically. “Not only are they not particularly intelligent, they never were good with subterfuge.”
Rune bolted upright, displacing the raven who cawed her displeasure and flew to a nearby window ledge. “Lemurians,” the wolf snarled, and hackles rose along his spine.
Aislinn sent magic thrumming outward and felt like the worst kind of fool. While she’d been arguing like a thwarted ten-year-old, a Lemurian horde had gathered outside Fionn’s gates. “Can they fight?” She pointed at the dragons.
“I surely hope so,” Bran said.
“What are their names if I need their attention?”
“The black one is Royce and the copper one is Kra,” Bran said. “They’re males. Their mates are Vaughna, who’s green, and Berra, who’s red.”
Kra trumpeted, and Berra herded the young dragons through a side door into the manor house. Once they disappeared, she spun, clearly intent on taking up a post to defend the entrance.
Rune growled and skinned back his lips, showing his fangs. The muscles in his haunches bunched, but Aislinn knelt next to him. “Not yet,” she said. “We need a coordinated approach.” Broadcasting her mind voice, she called Corin, Daniel, Eve, and Timothy. “Organize your people. Come to the front of the manor house. We’re under attack!”
“Exactly what I was trying to get across about Fionn,” Gwydion muttered. “A coordinated approach where we doona fragment our efforts.”
“I don’t need a sermon.” Aislinn speared him with her unwavering gaze. “You’re the damned warrior magician. Come on. Craft a battle plan. Now. They’re almost upon us.”
Humans poured out of the house and from the manor’s many outbuildings. Grim-faced and determined, they formed groups according to their gifts. Cronin, Daniel, Eve, and Timothy marched to Aislinn.
“I sense Old Ones,” Timothy snarled. At Aislinn’s nod, he made a sour face. “Bastards.”
“Tell us where we can do the most good,” Eve said. Tabitha flanked her, lips etched into a growl. Magic bubbled around the humans, creating interlocking wards.
“At least there’re no dark gods.” Bran spat into the dirt. “Or they’ve done a stellar job of cloaking their presence.”
“What about Fionn’s wards around the manor?” Aislinn demanded. “Won’t they protect us?”
“If
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