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I fought for air, fought to answer them.Yes, I want to kill him myself.No, I want to forget that time in my life and never speak his name again.
No single answer came, not before a rush of urgent footsteps skidding over stone and the call of voices from the castle.
"Evanthia, ladies, inside!" Conall bellowed.
"Sanctuary! Sanctuary! Hywel, Laz,please!"
Esther and Hazel released my hands, and we spun as a trio. Hazel's hands flung out in the direction of the small, charging figure that raced up the drive toward the entrance of the castle, and Esther bit off a cry of surprise as the intruder was halted with a sudden shout, arms and upper body flailing with their sudden stop.
There was an entrance to the kitchens from this side of the castle, and no doubt that was where Conall expected us to retreat to. Instead, we took off running through the meadow together, charging for the gravel drive where our men were barreling out of the castle in uneven numbers. As we neared, I saw what had put a sudden stop to the small person's running. Thickening roots burst up from the ground and twined eagerly around the mismatched trouser legs, squeezing tightly enough to hold him in place.
The man Hazel had caught was as small as a child but with a twiggy, uneven beard and the small horns of a young fawn.
"I told you to go inside," Conall hissed, catching sight of us and cutting away from the others. I threw myself into his embrace easily, suddenly realizing he was right, that I had darted for the possible danger rather than toward safety.
"Puck," Hywel greeted through gritted teeth. "What do you think you're doing, showing your face here? Did youknowyour little missive about the cauldron wentdirectlyinto—"
"Wasn't me," the puck gasped out, shaking his head. He relaxed in the trap around his legs and leaned forward, planting his hands on thick thighs as his back heaved with gasps of air. "Wasn't me that sent that letter."
"Not this damn treasure hunting nonsense again," Conall snapped, sagging slightly against me, but Hywel raised a hand to hush us.
My dragon seemed to grow as he walked steadily toward the puck fellow, tall and broad and dangerously elegant. "If it was notyou, Robin, why did the author know of my interest in the piece?" Hywel said, teeth biting around the words.
Robin the puck cringed and ducked his head. "Iwaslooking for information for you, I swear it. Only mayhaps I was a…little loose with my tongue?"
"Hywel, do you realize—" Asterion cut in.
Hywel glared back at Asterion, settling into his usual size once more, and sniffed with offense. "That the letter might've been bait for a trap? Of course I do. Serves Rolant right, I suppose. Itdoesnot, however, address your indiscretion."
"Robin,whodid you give the information to?" I asked, sliding from Conall's arms to step forward. Hywel shifted in my direction, guarding me from moving too closely.
The puck lifted his face once more, and the shade of his skin was too pale, green and queasy. His eyes darted around the crowd that had gathered here to judge him, and he did not hide the trembles that quaked his small form.
"I didn'tknow, dragon. I had no notion—"
"Who, Robin?" Hywel bit out.
Robin's beard twitched as he swallowed hard. "It was Birsha who stole my secrets, my lord."
Hywel staggered back a step, and I caught his waist in my hands, less surprised by this revelation than I suspected Hywel was. Behind me, Conall cursed.
"Rolant will save his own skin," Asterion said with a sigh. "Birsha will have a dragon on his side too."
I startled at the declaration and shook my head, trying to control my expression before Asterion saw too much of my reproach.
"You don't know that," I said.
Hywel sighed and shook his head, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and twisting to face me. "I fear he's likely right,blodyn bach. But it won't make a terrible difference. I outmatch Rolant—"
"No!" I cried, stepping out of his reach, planting my hands on my hips and glaring at my mates, who looked troubled butnotfor the right reason, in my opinion. "No! We are not givingRolantup to- to Birsha! He stood by you all against the werewolves and the trolls. He led us to Excalibur!" And when that did not make them look properly moved, a new notion struck me. I glared up at Hywel. "Do you really think Rolant isstupidenough to stand against youandthe Sword of Victors?"
Hywel blinked at that, head tipping to the side slightly, expression shifting by the smallest amount. Around his shoulder, Laszlo ducked his head and hid his smile by cleaning his glasses on the tail of his shirt.
"You may have a point," Hywel said. "More likely, Rolant might play the game. Go along with Birsha enough to survive. He could be a tool for either of us."
Dr. Underwood cleared his throat, gathering our attention, his frown somber. "I'm afraid if Birsha seeks to make a tool of a dragon, it won't be by their wits."
A grave chill soaked into my bones as I considered what I had learned from Asterion and the others about how Birsha had been surviving for so long. I stepped back and found Conall eagerly waiting to enfold me back against his chest.
