Asking for advice went against the grain, but he had far more experience in battle tactics. “What should we do?” He raked a hand through his hair. “I think you should get on Dewi’s back and give them a pyrotechnics display,” he said with a flawless American intonation. She wondered how he kept how to talk to whom straight. Explosives, my ass. “What am I, fucking Joan of Arc?” she demanded and wiped the remains of her meal off her mouth with the back of one hand. Fionn smirked. “If you could channel that one, our problems would be over. Get moving.” “Who’s Dewi?” The man sounded confused. “The dragon.” Aislinn sprinted for the door. She’d no sooner yanked it open when the buzz of angry voices reached her. The man’s laughter followed her down the steps. What the hell is so funny? Sending her Mage gift spinning outward, she heard snippets of conversation.
