The dragon turned, body curling, tail whipping. And its rider sliced his sword.

The winged body dropped like a stone. The head hit the dirt road with a muffled thump, then rolled into the high grass.

“Oh God, oh my God.”

“There, it’s all right now. You’re safe. Bruised, but nothing’s broken. Just sit, catch your breath. It’s all over and done.”

The dragon glided down, keen claws scoring the dirt road. It studied Breen out of eyes shades deeper than the gold scales as it lowered to its belly.

The man swung a leg over its wide back, then jumped down as easily as another might have jumped into a cool river on a hot day. He sheathed his bloody sword as he strode toward Marg.

He didn’t look particularly pleased, but neither would she, Breen thought, if she’d just beheaded someone.

His hair flowed back, night dark, well over the collar of the leather duster that billowed out as he walked. His eyes, a dark, intense green, spared a glance at the severed head.

She knew that face, hard and handsome, from dreams.

“Odran didn’t send his best.” Then he shifted his gaze to Breen with the same look of mild disdain. “Her?”

“I’m grateful to you, Keegan, so don’t be a git and spoil it. My girl’s had a shock and a spill, and I’m keen aware it would’ve been worse if you hadn’t come when you did. Breen, this is Keegan O’Broin.”

“You have a dragon.”

“We have each other. Can you stand?”

She wasn’t altogether sure, but when he held out a hand, she decided she’d feel less idiotic on her feet than sitting on the ground with the dog making worried whines and licking her face.

He hauled her up, then gave Bollocks a kinder look than he’d given her.

“And who’s this then? One of Clancy’s litter?”

“He is, and Breen’s now.”

“You failed at guarding.” But he gave Bollocks a quick, careless rub. “You’ll have to do better next time.” He looked back at Marg. “So will she.”

“The girl’s had no time,” Marg began.

“I’m standing right here, but I can walk over that way if you’d both like to talk behind my back awhile.”

“Well, some spine anyway, so we’ll see.” Dismissing Breen again, he looked up. “Mahon shouldn’t be far behind me, and he’ll see you safely home. This one was likely an opportunist, as Odran wouldn’t send such a poor swordsman. I’ll take care of what’s left of him.”

“You’ve been gone more than a fortnight. Will you be staying for a time?”

“As long as I can. I’ve missed the homeplace. And here’s Mahon now.”

“Ah, Aisling and the children will be happy to have him home.”

With wings the color of aged mahogany and hair of the same hue in dozens of braids, the faerie glided through the sky.

“Will you need help getting this one back in the cart?” Keegan asked Marg.

“Oh, for—” Insult completely overrode lingering fear and continuing wonder. “Bollocks!” Breen snapped, and started for the cart. Her ankle twinged, but she refused to limp.

“Bollocks?” Keegan repeated with a hint of humor.

“That would be the dog’s name, and leave off poking at the girl, Keegan. What happened here is my fault. It’s mine.”

She walked after Breen before Mahon dropped lightly to his feet.

“You flew off like a gale and nearly sent me into a spin,” Mahon complained. “And more, it looks as if I’ve missed the fun. A dark faerie, was he?”

“One of Odran’s, as he had Marg’s granddaughter a foot or two off the ground when I got to them. And her, kicking and screaming like a tot having a tantrum.”

“The message Aisling sent said she’d come through.”

“And nearly had herself taken off again. See them home safe, will you, Mahon, before you take yourself home.”

“I will, of course.”

Keegan stepped over, picked up the head by the hair, tossed it beside the body. “Cróga! Lasair,” he said to the dragon.

With a rumbling roar, Cróga spewed fire. And the power of it turned the remains to blackened ash. At the sound, Breen looked back, and he realized by the way the color drained from her cheeks, he should have waited until they were out of sight.

Well, no help for it now.

“You might’ve been more delicate,” Mahon commented, then strolled over to the cart. “My lady.” Despite the formal term, he leaned in to kiss Marg’s cheek. “I’m sorry you had trouble, and here, at a holy place. And I didn’t know you had a sister.”

“You’re a one, Mahon. Breen’s my granddaughter, as you well know. And, Breen, here’s Mahon Hannigan.”

“I’ve met your family.” Because she could smell the smoke, Breen spoke carefully so her voice didn’t shake. “Your children are adorable.”

“And a handful with it. Are you well enough to travel, my lady?”

“I’m fine, thank you. I’m fine.”

“I’ll be seeing you safely home again, so not to worry.”

His wings spread, and up he went. Breen forgot to be astonished.

After Marg clicked to the horse, after they’d gone beyond the stench of burning and smoke, Breen turned to her. “I need answers.”

“You do, aye, you do. This, what happened, it’s my fault.”

“Before we get to that, I want to get this out so I can stop thinking about it. That man was riding a dragon.”

“Such creatures are lore and legend in your world, but a part of this one. I asked none come near for a while, as I thought you . . . You had so much coming at you, and I thought . . . I was wrong. I’ve been wrong, and you might have paid dearly for it.”

“He’s Aisling and Harken’s brother? The dragon rider.”

“He is. And the taoiseach of Talamh.”

“Him? Well, why the hell not? Now, why would some dark faerie try to drag me off against my will, and who the hell is Odran?”

“I believed you were still hidden from Odran, that there was time still to prepare you, to explain, and to teach. I can’t say whether the one Keegan killed was sent, or if he was a scout or spy who got lucky, you could say, before he got unlucky.”

“That doesn’t answer either question.”

“He would have wanted to take you. There would surely be a grand reward for it. He would have been one of Odran’s. Your grandfather.”

“My—Why would my grandfather, one you failed to mention, want me scared witless and hauled off by . . . He’s the one who took me when I was a child.”

Her face tight, Marg urged the horse to quicken her gait. “The fault’s mine there as well. We’re a peaceful world. You have to work to have peace, and there are times you have to fight for it. There are those who live for, who thrive on destroying, on taking, on the ruling of others against their will. Odran is such a one.”

Any world, Breen thought, magicks or not, was the same.

“Why does he want me?”

“You’re his blood as you are mine. And you’re so much more than you know, mo stór.”

Before she could speak again, Breen saw the dragon glide overhead before it, and its rider, veered off toward the west.

“Where’s he going?”

“He would take the ash of the dark to the Bitter Caves, bury them deep, and salt the ground.” Marg drove the cart a moment in silence. “We’ll soon be home. Can you wait for the rest?”

She wanted to protest, but noted Marg looked as pale as she felt. “I’ve waited this long.”

She looked up, watching Mahon soar. “If Keegan is taoiseach, who is Mahon?”

“His oldest friend, and a brother to him even before he and Aisling took vows. A good man, is Mahon, and one you can trust, who stands as Keegan’s right hand.”

“He’s . . . of the Sidhe, and Aisling—you said—was of the Wise. So the different . . . tribes, I guess it would be, can intermarry.”

“Of course. A heart loves who it loves. Harken pines for Morena, and always has. But he’s a bit slow on such matters, and she’s more than a bit stubborn, so they circle each other yet.”

Marg turned onto the path toward the cottage. “When I have Igraine settled, I want to look you over again, or I could call on Aisling, as healing is her greatest strength.”

“I’m not hurt. Probably some bruises, and my left ankle’s sore, that’s all.”

“We’ll have a look, and we’ll have some wine, and I’ll tell you what you need to know.”

“All of it,” Breen insisted. “Not what you think I need to know.”

“All of it.”

When she pulled up, Mahon dropped down to help Marg out of the cart. “I’ll see to the horse and cart.”

“Ah, Mahon, I know you’re wanting home.”

“And I’ll have it soon enough.” He gave her another kiss, gave the dog a rub. “You’re very welcome in Talamh, my lady Breen.”

“Thank you.”

Because her ankle had stiffened up on the drive in, she had to fight not to hobble to the door.

“Sit there, by the fire.” Marg flicked her fingers to have it going from dying embers to low flame. “Let’s put that foot up now, and get the boot off.”

“I just twisted it when I fell. My ass actually took the brunt of it.”

Marg frowned over it. “A bit bruised, a bit swollen. Healing’s not my greatest strength, but I can tend to this.”

Sitting on the low table, Marg propped Breen’s foot in her lap. “

It just needs ice and elevation.”

Marg said, “Hmmm,” and gently ran her fingers over the ankle, slow circles, the lightest touch. “When you learned to walk, you only wanted to run. Bruises and scrapes, scrapes and bruises. You’d just pop back up again and go.”