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Nidhogg cut in, “would be why you felt the need to intercept us.”
    “Neither of you have been to these caves for a verra long time,” Arawn spoke deliberately, enunciating each word until Dewi felt like strangling him.
    “Your point?” she snapped.
    “A handful of dragons yet live—”
    “That’s scarcely possible,” Dewi huffed.
    “Hush, dear.” Nidhogg straightened his spine until he hit his full eight-and-a-half-feet height and shifted his gaze to Arawn. “I suppose you’re going to tell us why you kept their existence a secret.”
    The dark-haired god shook his head. “Nay, I will let them tell you that themselves. I merely wished to prepare you. They are here at my behest and have remained so out of deference to me. I saw no reason to alert our enemies to their existence after Perrikus imprisoned you.” A rare smile split Arawn’s gaunt face, displaying very white, very even teeth. “I must return to Inishowen. I presume I will see you there soon.”
    “Thank you.” Nidhogg inclined his head.
    Dewi gnashed her teeth, not believing her mate was actually thanking Arawn for his deceit. “You could have told me,” she gritted at Arawn. “I can keep secrets.”
    “Unless ye’d been taken,” Arawn pointed out. “And tortured.”
    “Damn you, you arrogant Celtic ass,” she sputtered. “I suffered terribly.”
    “Aye, but ye dinna die.” The god of death’s dark gaze flashed menace. “Enough. We all made sacrifices, and I fear we are far from the end of them.” He raised his arms skyward, shimmered, and was gone.
    “Get hold of yourself.” Nidhogg nudged Dewi with his shoulder. “Let’s get moving. I want to see which of our kin remain.”
    “Traitors, the lot of them,” she hissed.
    Nidhogg pivoted on his powerful hindquarters until he faced her and grabbed one of her forelegs with a taloned foot. “You will hear them out,” he pronounced. “Only a fool makes judgments without facts.”
    Ouch.
    Shame nudged anger, not totally displacing it, but at least making room for something beyond indignation. She yanked her foreleg free. “I promise to listen, but if I don’t like their answers—”
    “Neither of us will take action without consulting the other.” He skewered her with his gaze. “Agreed?”
    “Agreed.” She aimed for neutrality, but a sullen undernote crept beneath the word just the same.
     

Chapter Two
    Fionn, Celtic god of wisdom, creation, and protection, wanted to slam a fist down on the huge oblong table in his kitchen, but he restrained himself. The carved oak table could have accommodated twenty-five, but today just him, two other Celts, and four humans sat ringed around its scarred surface.
    “Let’s play this one again from the top,” Fionn said, making an effort to remain in his seat. What he wanted to do was bolt from the room. Let the others come up with a plan if they were going to pick his to bits.
    “Temper, temper,” Bella cawed from her perch atop the door.
    Fionn eyed his bond raven. “I’ll thank you to keep your thoughts to yourself.”
    “Thank away.” The bird fluffed her coal black feathers and nailed him with her beady avian gaze. “In the end, I’ll do as I please.”
    “Aye, ye always do.” Fionn turned his attention back to the group. Gwydion, master enchanter and warrior magician, sat at one end of the table. His sky blue robe was sashed with a leather belt that held pouches with a variety of herbs and powders in them, and his intricately carved wooden staff was propped against the wall behind him. Blond hair was braided in a Celtic warrior pattern, and his blue eyes held a somber note.
    Bran, god of prophecy, war, and the arts, wore his usual battle leathers. They clung to his heavily muscled body like a second skin. Blond hair fell halfway down his back, and his copper eyes danced with suppressed mirth. He tilted his chin in response to Fionn’s gaze.
    Fionn narrowed his eyes. “I doona see the humor here. Mayhap ye might