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“I’ve taken care of that little problem. Arawn and your brother will deliver him to me soon.” She clacked her beak shut twice for emphasis.
Arianrhod gnashed her teeth together and made shooing motions with both hands. “Get out of my way. I could care less about your love life.”
“Not how it was looking to me.” The Morrigan latched her beady, avian eyes onto Arianrhod, who snarled at her.
“Stand down. Both of you,” Ceridwen thundered. She drove her stirring rod against the wooden floorboards at her feet for emphasis, and lightning forked from its tip.
The Battle Crow squawked and flapped her enormous wings before moving aside just enough for Arianrhod to sweep past her. “I’m not done.” The crow snapped her beak microns from Arianrhod’s ear.
She halted and turned to face the Morrigan. “Aye, but ye are. I’m sick to death of you and your posturing. Leave me be.”
“Ye canna talk thus to me.” The crow flew at her, and Arianrhod spiraled a funnel of magic to block her.
Andraste, goddess of victory, surged to her feet, long blonde curls flying about her. “Oberon’s balls! A battle. Things were growing a bit dull.” She pumped both fists in the air, her green eyes snapping in anticipation.
“Not here there won’t be.” Ceridwen slammed her staff on the floor again. Light shot from both it and the cauldron this time. She stomped up the center of the room and grabbed one of the Morrigan’s wingtips. “Ye behave, or ye leave.”
“I canna leave. I’m waiting for Arawn to deliver Angus to me.” The crow tossed her head.
“If he wanted aught to do with you, he’d have taken you on Rhukon’s moorlands.” Arianrhod bit off the words. “Ye make his skin crawl. He told me so.”
“Shut up!” the crow screeched. “Bitch! Slut!”
“Och aye, ’tis getting better and better.” Andraste strode closer, presumably for a clearer view.
Arianrhod figured the Morrigan would’ve taken another run at her, but Ceridwen stood between them. “Behave or leave,” she repeated and twisted the Morrigan’s wing until black feathers fluttered to the floor. “If I’m forced to tell you a third time, I’ll banish you from these chambers for a hundred years.” Determination and danger flashed from her dark eyes, and she shoved dark hair shot with silver behind her shoulders.
The air around the crow took on insubstantial edges. Moments later, the Morrigan was gone. Breath whistled through Arianrhod’s clenched teeth. “Ye shouldna have done that,” she told Ceridwen.
“Whyever not?” The goddess of the world eyed her coolly.
“Because she’s knee-deep in whatever poison has infiltrated the dragon shifter bond, and now we canna question her.”
“We could call her back.” Still on her feet, Andraste sounded hopeful.
“We will if we have to.” Ceridwen screwed her face into a distasteful grimace. “No matter what hellish plot the Morrigan is mixed up in this time, the air in these chambers is much easier to breathe without her here.”
Ceridwen crooked a finger at Arianrhod before she turned and started for her cauldron at the far end of the room.
“Och. Fun’s over. Too bad.” Andraste made her way back to a pile of battle armor she’d been rubbing rust spots from. No one used it anymore, but the goddess of victory made occasional trips to the past decked out like a Valkyrie. Arianrhod had accompanied her a time or two.
Noticing the direction of her gaze, Andraste waved cheerily. Arianrhod smiled before she trotted after Ceridwen, breathing a little easier. The Morrigan made the first part effortless. Now all she had to do was get through a recitation of what occurred with the dragons, dragon shifters, and Rhukon, and she’d be done here—at least for a few years.
Ceridwen twisted to face her and spun earth power around them, so no one could eavesdrop on their conversation. The air took on a silvery hue. “Tell me,” she said without preamble. “Everything.”
Arianrhod talked so long her throat grew dry, but she didn’t want to break the magic surrounding them to pour herself some wine. “…And so, there’s at least one more corrupt mage seeking to bond with a dragon. Rhukon and Connor are still at large. For all I know, there may be others, but the dragons are deep into figuring things out.”
“What of Lachlan and Britta and their dragons? I held concern about them afore I sent you to Fire Mountain.”
“Like I said, Rhukon—and the Morrigan—likely know exactly where they are.”
Ceridwen tilted her chin at a bold angle. “That will be your next assignment.”
Arianrhod shook her head. “Nay. I doona work for you.”
The goddess of the world drew her dark brows together across her high forehead until they formed an unbroken line. “Ye’d defy me?”
At the fury flaring from Ceridwen’s eyes, Arianrhod tossed words into the fray. “Doona characterize it as defiance. I told you I spent time with Cathbad—twice. I met with him in his own time, and he came to me in a vision. My path for the next span of time is to sequester myself in Caer Sidi. I must hone my moon mother skills to ensure the tides remain constant. Men have mucked up the environment so thoroughly, neither are holding a consistent pattern.”
