Shocked, eibhear watched her as she fled back inside the house.

"Izzy!" He got up to go after her, but Zarah stopped him, her hand resting against his forearm.

"Give her a minute. I know this can't be easy for her."

The woman had absolutely no idea.

Izzy ran through the house, but it was large and long and before she knew it, she had no idea how to get out again. Desperate, she realized that at the very least, she wanted a quiet space to get control of herself.

She went down a hallway but saw two of the soldiers who'd escorted her and eibhear here.

Unwilling to let any soldiers see her like this, Izzy went through the first door she found and quickly closed it, both hands pressing into the wood, her body leaning forward. And that's when the tears came. She tried to stop them, but she simply couldn't. Even worse, she chanted what she'd chanted the first time she was caught in a burning building during a battle and couldn't find her way out, "Mum . . . gods, Mum . . ."

"Don't let her do that to you."

Startled, Izzy spun around, her back against the door. "Sorry, I . . ."

"My daughter is only tough on the ones she thinks have some promise."

Izzy shook her head. "No, I-"

"It's all right. I won't tell her I saw a thing. Take a moment, catch your breath."

The man appeared to be in his sixtieth winter or so, his grey hair cut very short, his arms bulging with muscles. He had a sword in his hand and she realized he was a blacksmith and this was his workshop. She'd managed to step outside again, the house going from out to in and back again like a lovely maze.

Izzy wiped her face with her palms and stepped farther inside. The weapons were beautiful things. Lots of curved swords and gold and steel daggers, many adorned with jewels. Unlike the weapons that were popular in Dark Plains, these appeared ornamental, but Izzy knew weapons and these were as deadly as they were beautiful. They reminded Izzy of the weapons Annwyl wore during family parties and important events, given to her by Fearghus.

"Your work is beautiful," Izzy said.

"Thank you."

She pointed at one of the swords. "May I?"

"If you'd like."

She picked up one of the bigger swords and marveled at the lightness of it. Throwing herself into the safety of what she knew-battle and war and weapons-Izzy walked over to a clear area and lifted the sword. She gave a few practice swings, not sure if she'd like to work with these curved swords. But it was always nice to test out other weapons, to see what different armies used.

When Izzy lowered the sword, the man watched her intently. His pleasant expression replaced by a deep frown.

"I'm sorry." Izzy quickly replaced the weapon, thinking she must have crossed some kind of cultural divide she hadn't been aware of.

"You're not a trainee, are you?" he asked.

"No, sir. Not anymore."

"You have true skill. And strength." His eyes narrowed a bit. "Where are you from?"

Izzy sighed. "That's a bit complicated."

He put the weapon he'd been sharpening on the floor and stepped away from the table. "Do I know you?" he asked.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"Then why do I feel like I do?"

"I have to go."

"Please don't."

Izzy moved toward the door. "I do. Someone is waiting for me. He'll be worried." She got to the door, but a large hand pressed against it. She could remove that hand, but she wasn't sure she could fight anyone at the moment.

"Look at me. Please."

Izzy slowly turned to face the man. She realized she was crying again when tears fell on her chest.

He lifted her chin and looked into her face.

"By the holy suns," he whispered, both hands now framing her face. "How did I not see it as soon as you walked in? How did I not know?"

"I have to go," Izzy begged, the sobs making it hard to get the words out. "I have to."

Big arms went around her, pulled her in close. "But you've come home, my beautiful child. Where are you planning to go when you've come home?"

Chapter 34.

eibhear sat in a chair, all the humans staring at him. He hadn't felt this uncomfortable since he'd been captured by an Ice Land troop and strapped over a pointy stake. His M-runach brethren had saved him that day, but he wouldn't be saved today. Unfortunately.

Finally, one of the inquisitive children said, "Why are you so pale? Are you dying?"

"No."

An older child then asked, "Did you know your hair was blue?"

"I am aware."

"Why is your hair blue?"

"Well . . . uh . . ." Gods, where had Izzy gone? How could she just desert him like this? He understood she was overwhelmed, but . . . but he needed her!

One of the women dressed in armor leaned in close. So close he thought she might kiss him. At least she was pretty. "Are you a dragon?"

eibhear had to work hard not to jump at her question, but he was more than a little surprised.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because we get some here. They pretend to be human." She leaned in even closer. "Their hair's different from yours. Colored real bright. But they're pale like you."

"Must be the scales."

"Is Iseabail safe around you?" Zarah asked, one of her grandsons helping her into a chair across from eibhear.

"Safer than even she realizes."

That answer seemed to satisfy everyone because they moved back a little, giving him a bit of space, so that he could finally breathe.

"So, dragon," one of the males asked, "who are your people then? Or do you have people? Do you have lizards?"

"I am not a lizard. Nor can I communicate with them. But I do have people."

"How can you have people when you're not human?"

"Having one's own people is not limited to humans. It's a common term used not only by dragons but by centaurs and Minotaurs and those jackal-headed men that you Desert Landers have running around. So yes, I'm a dragon and I have people."

"Then who are they exactly?"

"I'm eibhear the Contemptible. Youngest born son in the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, fifth in line to the throne of the White Dragon Queen, Scourge of the Northland territories, Most Reviled Enemy Dragon of the Ice Lands, Honored Member of the M-runach, and bare-fisted champion of the M-runach Yearly Pit Fights three winters in a row."

The entire clan was silent, all of them staring at him until Zarah finally asked, "You're a prince?"

"Aye. Izzy's a princess, too."

"How is she a princess?"

"Talaith is with my brother, Briec the Mighty."

Everyone started talking at once and eibhear couldn't really understand anyone. But then Zarah snapped, "Quiet!" And they all were.

She leaned forward and asked, "Talaith is with a dragon?"

"Aye."

"How did this happen? Was she handed over in sacrifice?"

"No one really does that anymore in Dark Plains. And no one's forced Talaith to be with Briec. She's with him because she loves him. She wouldn't be with him otherwise. My brother's too irritating for anyone who doesn't love him."

"Talaith loves a dragon?"

"We're very loveable. Most of us."

"And how does your dragon brother feel about Iseabail?"

"He adores her. Briec calls her his perfect, perfect daughter."

Another of Zarah's grandson's folded his arms across his chest and asked, "And are you her perfect, perfect uncle?"

"Not by blood."

"Did your brother adopt her?"

"Yes."

"Then you're her uncle."

"Yes, but not by blood."

"And that point matters?"

"Trust me," eibhear insisted. "It matters."

"I should have realized you were my grandchild immediately," Zachariah said as he poured Iseabail a cup of coffee. "You look so much like my boy." And your mother.

He placed the cup in front of Iseabail and sat down across from her at his work table.

"I'm sorry I got so upset," she said, her eyes downcast. "I just didn't-"

"You were overwhelmed. It's understandable."

"I should get back to eibhear."

"No. You should stay here. Drink your coffee. He'll be fine. The family will take care of him."

She picked up the cup and held it in her hands. Zachariah studied her while she studied the cup. Mighty suns, his boy would be proud of her. She was strong, healthy, and beautiful. But there were questions Zachariah had. Ones he simply couldn't wait to ask, even though he knew he should.

"Iseabail-"

"Izzy. You can call me Izzy."

"Izzy, why . . ." He cleared his throat, tried again. "You may not know the answer to this, but why did your mother not come to us? When your grandmother threw her out? We would have taken her in. I thought she understood that."

"It's very complicated, I'm afraid," Izzy sighed out.

"Complicated?"

"Well, anytime you deal with gods, it gets complicated."

"Gods? Oh, of course, your mother is a Nolwenn."

"I think being a Nolwenn had little to do with it. She just wanted to make sure she had someone strong enough and smart enough to do the task and that turned out to be Talaith."

"Wait. Who is 'she' then?"

"Arzhela."