Mad, Bad & Dangerous

And now Olaf and Durgan were dead, and countless villagers too-thank the gods it was only a tiny hamlet-and Angie, bruised and battered, was the healthiest of the remaining survivors. The others had been burnt, cut, stabbed and slashed, and Nuala had been white-faced as she’d dealt with them.

Jarven was badly hurt. And Bael…

He’d been breathing softly and evenly when she’d left him that morning. Having spent the night alternately cursing and praying, she’d woken to spend about ten minutes just staring at him. He was beautiful in sleep, his hair dark against his white skin, a livid bruise across his cheek the only color in his face.

He’s hurt because of me.

But then I’m hurt because of him.

She wiped her hands across her face. “Right. And then what happened?”

“How did you escape?” Tane asked.

Angie took in a deep breath and let it out. “We didn’t, sir,” she said. “We were rescued. I was dozing, and I heard this absolutely maddened roar, like a dragon, and I thought, oh hell, it’s one of the ones from the ranch.”

“Just a sec,” Kett interrupted. “The only dragons we have loose are the ones we trust not to go loopy. What happened?”

“I don’t know. Maybe all the fighting unsettled them,” Angie said. “Or maybe the others were let loose by the men who attacked us.”

“What sort of numpty lets an untrained dragon loose?” Kett scowled.

“A desperate one,” Tyrnan said. “What happened after that, Angie?”

“Well, sir, then the wagon was suddenly lifted up into the air and we all went tumbling over, and I’m afraid I passed out again,” Angie said, looking embarrassed. “And the next thing I knew, this man was standing there, looking like he’d just come straight from hell, telling me it would all be all right and that he’d come to help us. And I thought he looked like your young man,” she turned to Kett, who grimaced while all the others grinned, “but he was so covered with soot and ash and it was dark, and I wasn’t quite sure. And, well, by then my pa had woken up and he, er, didn’t realize we were being rescued, so he, well…gave him a piece of his mind.”

Kett winced.

“That would explain Bael’s bruises,” Nuala murmured.

“Yes, your highness. And he looked like he’d been fighting previously, too, he had a sword and he was bleeding. Anyway, I eventually recognized him, so he untied me and I saw-well, what was left of the men who’d attacked us.”

“What was left?” Tyrnan asked.

“He’d brought a dragon with him, sir,” Angie said, evidently unaware of Var’s shape-changing abilities. “And it, er,” she glanced at Nuala and the girls, apparently trying to protect their delicate sensibilities. Kett snorted. Half an hour in a room with Tyrnan of Emreland and most ladies quickly adjusted such sensibilities.

“I’m guessing he didn’t sit them down and explain to them the errors of their ways,” Nuala said.

“I’m guessing he turned them into barbecue,” Tyrnan said.

“You guess correctly, sir.” Angie swallowed. “He untied everyone else then and got his dragon to pick up the wagon and…well. Then he brought us here. Is he all right?”

“Five by five,” Kett said distantly. Bael had rescued them all? Deliberately? Well, maybe he’d just happened upon them, but she didn’t suppose it was very likely.

Why? If it had been his men who’d attacked the village, why had he rescued them?

Still completely disgusted with herself for spending half the night crying over a man who was possibly-well, probably-involved with the Federacion, she reached for more coffee and wondered whether Nuala would allow her to raid the sideboard for something to add to it.

She looked up and caught her father’s expression. “No,” he said.

“What?”

“No brandy, no rum, no gin or whatever you want to put in it.”

Kett scowled.

“Kett, you’re still very fragile,” Nuala scolded.

“I’ve never been fucking fragile in my life,” Kett said, shoving back her chair and getting to her feet, suddenly monstrously irritated. “I’m going to go check on Jarven.”

“I looked in on him five minutes ago,” Angie said, ducking her gaze shyly. “He’s fast asleep.”

“Well then, I’m going to go check on the others.”

“They’re being taken care of,” Nuala assured her.

“Well-I’m just going to go and-be somewhere else,” Kett snapped, stalking off as fast as her bad leg and her woozy head would let her.

Her father caught up to her outside the breakfast room door. “Kett, she’s only looking out for your best interests.”

“I know.”

“Don’t be rude to her.”

“Oh fuck off. If I ever stopped being rude I’d probably be dead.”

“If you don’t get some rest you may well be,” Tyrnan shot back.

“Fuck off.”

“Now there’s my little girl.”

She glared at him. “I was never your little girl.”

Tyrnan raised his eyebrows. “Sure you were, I just didn’t know about you.”

“Great father you were.” She started toward the stairs, her leg aching abominably. The tiny sensible part of Kett, buried deep inside, told her she should probably borrow a cane to lean on. The rest of her said she’d have to lose a leg to be so desperate.

Tyrnan followed at the same slow pace. “Come on, Kett, what’s brought this on?”

“Nothing. I’m just…look, I’m sorry, but I’ve been having a pretty shitty few days, in case you hadn’t noticed, and…oh hell, say sorry to Nuala for me, will you?” she added guiltily.

“She won’t mind. You wanna talk about it?”

Kett shot him an incredulous look. Her father looked horribly embarrassed, but at least he was trying.

“No,” she said, and he visibly relaxed. “But you know what I do want to talk about? How Bels and Eithne have swords and crossbows and stuff, and know how to use them.”

He shrugged. “It’s a tough old world. They should be able to defend themselves.”

“Against what? They never leave the house without bodyguards.”

Tyrnan drummed his fingers on the stair rail as Kett started her slow ascent. “Look, if you really want to know, they asked to learn. They said they wanted to be like you.”

Kett stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. “Don’t say shit like that when I’m halfway up a flight of stairs,” she grumbled.

“Sorry. It’s true though.”

She stared blindly at the neat edge of the carpet covering the marble steps. Beyla and Eithne wanted to be like her? “But-why?”

“Well,” Tyrnan took her arm and started helping her up the stairs, “I don’t recall exactly, but it was sometime after you beat up your husband. Apparently they found that impressive.”

“He deserved it,” Kett said vaguely.

“Yeah. That’s what they found impressive.” He sighed. “Look, Kett…I know I treat them differently than how I treated you, but…well, finding out he has a teenage daughter can bloody terrify a man. I didn’t do things very right with you, did I? I wanted to do better with them. Wanted to stop them making mistakes like-uh-”

“Like I did?” Kett supplied dryly.

“Well, yeah. I mean, I’m proud of you and all, but I really wish you’d stop nearly getting yourself killed. And while I think you dealt with the cheating husband admirably, I’d kind have liked it better if you hadn’t married the bastard in the first place. You deserved better.”

“Thanks for telling me so at the time,” Kett said, still mulling over the “proud” bit with some astonishment.