Authors: G. A. Aiken
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Romance, #dragons
“You can’t tell her!” Gwenvael wailed. “
She’ll kill us all!
”
“How can I not tell her the truth?” Keita argued. “How can
I
betray womankind everywhere?”
The woman pointed at Keita. “She’s the one who threw me out the window.”
Gwenvael stared down at his sister, his wailing and crying stopping instantly. Both brother and sister were performers, but Keita was much better at it. “You threw her out a window?” Gwenvael asked.
“I was saving the ungrateful goat’s life. Remind me next time not to bother. Honestly, if I’d known she was just one of your whores…”
She certainly did toss that word around.
The woman stepped closer to Keita. “I am no whore, slag. And I knew I should have killed you when I had the chance.”
“Perhaps, but you were too busy wiping that old man’s come off the inside of your thighs to have the time.”
Gwenvael snorted, and both he and his sister burst out laughing.
“Ignore us, Dana.” Gwenvael, wiping tears from his eyes with one hand, gave the confused human a coin pouch with the other. “As promised.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Eyeing Keita coldly, clearly seeing her as the bigger danger, the woman backed away until she got to a side door and slipped outside.
“I’m doubting she’ll be back,” Ragnar said.
“She works for me, and I pay her well,” another voice said from the shadows. “She’ll be back.”
Dagmar Reinholdt’s dog, Canute, stepped into the light, and Keita backed into Ragnar. “Good gods! The dog speaks.” Ragnar only had a moment to cross his eyes before Dagmar stepped in behind her dog. Keita let out a breath. “Thank the gods that was you, sister. What a relief. Can you think of anything stranger than a dog being able to speak?”
Dagmar’s eyes studied the three dragons in human form standing before her and, eventually, shook her head. “No, Princess Keita. I can’t think of
anything
remotely stranger than that.”
Keita grinned. “There’s that sarcasm again.”
“Me? Sarcastic? Never.” And the words couldn’t have been spoken with a flatter inflection if the woman had been dead. With her pale hands clasped together and resting against the skirt of her gown, the warlord’s daughter appeared almost…virginal. A young spinster who’d joined one of those nunneries. But for her eyes. For Keita, those cold, missed-nothing eyes were the giveaway.
Which added up to one thing for Keita the Viper—she was truly beginning to enjoy her brother’s choice of mate! Dagmar Reinholdt was so blatantly ruthless and mean, so direct with it that once Keita bothered to look past all that grey…Honestly, how could she not adore the human female?
“Why are you here, princess?” Dagmar asked.
“I live here,” Keita explained. “These are the lands of my people.”
“Is that the game we’re going to play?”
“I do love games.”
“Keita,” her brother chastised.
“Oh, fine. I recognized the girl and wanted to see who she was working for. Imagine my surprise to find out it was you two….” She let her grin grow wider, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the warlord’s daughter and Gwenvael. “I had no idea you two enjoyed those kinds of games. Very nice choice, brother.”
“Isn’t Dagmar
wild
? You should see her when she’s training her dogs!”
“Stop it. Both of you.”
Keita placed her hand on Dagmar’s arm. “There’s no shame in hiring a whore to satisfy your needs, Lady Dagmar. I’d do the same if I couldn’t decide which I preferred more, a cock or a puss—”
“You and I both know Dana is no whore.”
“Perhaps murderess is more apt a title?”
“What does that make you then?” Ragnar asked Keita.
“Loyal to my people. Now shut up.”
“Was it your loyalty that led you to Lord Bampour’s room that morning?” Dagmar asked.
“I was merely concerned for poor Lord Bampour’s health. He wasn’t well at all at our dinner.”
Dagmar’s lips twitched into what could almost be called a smile. “She’s a much better liar than you, Defiler.”
Gasping in practiced horror, Keita pressed her hands against her chest. “Are you suggesting I’m
lying
, Lady Dagmar?”
“I’m suggesting you wouldn’t bother using truth if it promised to erect a temple in your honor.”
Keita held up one finger, waved it. “I beg to differ on that.” She shrugged at Ragnar. “I’ve always wanted a temple.”
“Where males from all across the land could come and worship you!” Gwenvael cheered.
“Yes! And they’d have to bring me gifts because I would be a god.” She sighed. “I love gifts.”
Dagmar gazed over Keita’s shoulder at Ragnar. “Have you been putting up with this for the last few days?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “I’ve been enjoying it, too…. That’s not a good thing, is it?”
“Don’t worry,” Dagmar told him. “It only hurts a little in the beginning.”
Ren of the Chosen Dynasty stepped into the Dragon Queen’s chamber. She smiled at him, showing many rows of fangs, and gestured him over with a wave of her claw.
“Hello, my friend.”
He rose up on his hind legs, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “My queen.”
“Oh, for the sake of the gods, Ren. Who’s that performance for?”
Ren sat back on his haunches, tossed the fur that fell into his eyes. “I like to err on the side of etiquette, Rhiannon.”
She laughed and waved her claw again. This time, it released a collar she wore, the chain that was linked to it, attached to a wall. It was a game the queen and her consort played. A game Ren never questioned. Mostly because it was none of his business, but also because what went on between the pair was something pure and white hot. And, to Ren’s kind, explained how things had changed so much among the Southland dragons of the west. Only a love like that of Rhiannon and Bercelak could transform everything the dragons of this land had known.
“You summoned me?”
“I did.” She sat down and patted a spot next to her on the slab of rock. Of course, this was not her official throne. That was in another cavern that had room enough for the Elders. Nor was this her bedchamber. It was, simply, the Queen’s Chamber, where many world-altering decisions often took place.
Ren sat down, and the queen said, “I want to thank you for watching out for my Keita. Being good at what she does makes her a target, and knowing you’ve often supported her has brought me great comfort.”
“Excuse my boldness, but I didn’t think you gave two shits what your whore daughter did. Or were those not the exact words you said to her sixty-eight years ago—correct?”
“I won’t explain the relationship I have with my daughter to anyone. Not to you—”
“Not to her.”
“Not to anyone. What I do and why I do it, is mine to know and understand.”
“I see. Then perhaps we should address what you want with me.”
“I need you to head west and—”
“No.” Ren shook his head. “I’ll not leave so you can have Keita at the will of that Northlander.”
“He worries you.”
“He was able to hurt her when no male I’ve known has ever managed before.”
“Which means what to you?”
“That she’s vulnerable to him. I don’t like it.”
“It’s not yours to like or not like. Keita may be vulnerable to him, as you put it, but I have no doubt that will only make it harder for him to get near her. But separating you two isn’t my goal here.”
“Then what is your goal? What can only
I
help you with?”
“I need you to look into something for me.”
“Which is?”
She tossed something at him, and Ren caught it in his claw. He studied it. “A gold Quintilian coin.”
“A
Sovereign
coin. There is a difference.” He knew that. A Quintilian coin could be found anywhere and was used throughout the lands. A Sovereign coin, which held vastly more value because it was pure gold, was only found in the Quintilian empire and usually only among the nobles. “It was found buried under the remains of another town destroyed by what we had believed to be one of the barbarian tribes.”
“But you no longer think it’s the barbarians?”
“Whoever is doing this kills everyone and take no slaves. Barbarians of the Western Mountains always take slaves. That’s how they make their money.”
“You truly think it’s the Sovereigns?”
“I know it’s the Sovereigns. But I need hard proof. Not only for the Elders, who have never felt good about my alliance with the Lightnings, but for my offspring. They think I only want war.”
“Don’t you?”
She threw her claws up, reminding him of her daughter. “Yes! But only with those I
know
I can destroy—and that, my friend, is
not
the Irons.”
“You are a Protector of the Throne?” Dagmar nodded at Keita’s admission, and leaned close to Gwenvael. “What is that exactly?”
It was so rare that there was something—
anything!
—his mate did not know, he would admit he took a moment to enjoy the sensation. Until she said, “Well?”
“They’re like…special agents to the throne, I guess.”
“You mean spies?” Dagmar asked, focusing on his sister. “You? You’re a…spy?”
“I prefer Protector. Spy sounds so sordid, don’t you think?”
“
You?
” Dagmar said again, forcing Gwenvael to bump her with his hip. So far Keita seemed to like Dagmar; he wanted to keep it that way. He’d ended up on the wrong side of Keita’s rage more than once, and spending three days doing nothing but vomiting up whatever she’d slipped into his food or wine was not a fate he’d want his lovely mate to endure. “It’s just…you seem so vapid.”
Gwenvael flinched, but Keita only laughed. “I do, don’t I? And mostly I am. Except when it comes to the throne. I will protect that with my dying breath, if necessary.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be,” the Lightning cut in, and Gwenvael couldn’t help sneering at the bastard.
“What do you have to do with anything?” When the Lightning didn’t reply, Gwenvael looked at his sister. “Keita? What’s going on with you two?”
“I’m simply using him for sex.”
“Of course you are. But that doesn’t explain why you’ve still allowed him to hang around you once you’re done.”
“He’s very good?”
Dagmar pressed the back of her hand to Gwenvael’s chest, her gaze on Keita and Ragnar. “Is this about the Sovereigns?” she asked, and when both their expressions turned perfectly blank, Gwenvael knew his mate had guessed right.
Keita studied the human Gwenvael had mated himself to. “How much can she be trusted?” she asked her brother.
“I’ve already trusted her with my life and the lives of everyone in this family. Her loyalty is not in question. Even Father trusts her.”
Surprised, Keita raised a brow. “Indeed?” She nodded. “Then I’ll make this quick and what I tell you goes no farther than these walls.” When they all agreed, she continued. “There’s a distinct chance Overlord Thracius hopes to put me on the throne. Mother thinks he’s already secured the assistance of someone in her court. She believes they’ll approach me soon, but to speed that process up a bit…I need it to get out that I’ve known where Esyld has been all this time.”
Her brother shook his head. “Are you insane? If the family finds out—”
“It’s a risk I have to take. And I think you can help me, Dagmar.”
“You want me to get the rumor about you and Esyld out?”
“Can you think of anyone better to make that happen?”
Dagmar smirked. “Not really.”
“I don’t like this, Keita,” Gwenvael said.
“I know you don’t, but I need the traitors to present themselves much sooner. I fear we’re running out of time.”
Gwenvael began to argue, but his mate cut him off.
“She’s right.” Dagmar let out a breath. “We’ve become fairly certain the Sovereign human troops are raiding small towns and villages near the Western Mountains. Dividing Annwyl’s troops, hoping to pull more dragon troops there to help.”
“And it seems Styrbjörn the Revolting may be helping Thracius,” Ragnar added. “Everything is moving into place. As much as I hate this as well, we must push this along.”
“And what about the safety of my sister?” Gwenvael demanded, glaring at the Northlander but making Keita feel a touch more special than she had a few minutes ago.
“I will protect your sister with my life. I swear it on the Code and the name of my kin.”
“Which means what to me?” Gwenvael demanded.
“Everything,” Dagmar told her mate. “It means everything.”
“Keita?” Gwenvael asked her. “What say you?”
“I trust Ragnar the Cunning as I trust you…or actually more like I trust Ren.”
Gwenvael pouted. “You trust Ren more than me?”
“At least he’s reliable.”
“You can’t seriously still be blaming me for that, little sister! I was late one time!”
“And I nearly lost this
amazing
head! If it hadn’t been for Ren, my perfection would have been lost for the ages. I still don’t know how you live with yourself after that!”
“Because
my
perfection would have remained. And that’s all that matters!”
They eventually left the warehouse, the pairs separating. As they headed back to the castle, Gwenvael took his mate’s hand.
“Well?” he asked.
“I can’t believe you never told me.”
“It wasn’t my information to tell. And she’s my sister.”
“Reason help me, she is
so
your sister, Gwenvael.”
“What does that mean?”
“I hope Ragnar understands what he’s about to get himself involved with.”
“He’s already fucked her—how much more involved can he get?”
“He hasn’t.”
“He hasn’t what?”
“As you so eloquently put it, fucked her.”
Gwenvael stopped, pulling his mate to a halt. “How do you know that?”
“Instinct. Body language. Your sister is very smart. She knows having a very secret relationship with Ragnar, a low-born enemy dragon—no matter how many alliances your mother agrees to, many of your kin and other noble dragons still consider the Northland dragons enemies—Keita comes off even more of the bored royal itching for her mother’s throne. She plays stupid because it makes her seem controllable. Too bad she’s more like her mother than either of them seems to realize.”
“Don’t ever say that loud enough Keita can hear you. She’ll rip your throat out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She tugged, and they began to walk again. “But they will be soon enough, I’m guessing.”
Gwenvael had learned over the years that his mate had a tendency to jump from conversation to conversation because that’s how her brilliant mind worked. Most beings could barely manage one or two cohesive thoughts at a time; Dagmar seemed to manage hundreds.
“They will be soon enough what?”
“Fucking.”
Gwenvael stopped again. “I thought you just said they weren’t?”
“They’re not. Although I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”
“What if he’s just toying with my sister because he’s good and pissed I got you?”
“I think it would be very hard for any male to toy with your sister and live to enjoy it. But it doesn’t matter because that’s not Ragnar’s way.”
When Gwenvael could only manage a grunt, Dagmar stroked her free hand against his chin. “And I’m with you, not with him. He understands that.”
“He better.”
“Besides, I’m sure once he beds your sister, he won’t think about me for another second.”
“How are you so sure that’ll happen?”
“Do you need my spectacles to see, Defiler?” She tugged him into moving again. “They’re both gagging for it!”
Keita was heading out of town with Ragnar when she saw him. He stood by a blacksmith stall, talking to a pretty young girl. He held the girl’s hand and leaned in close.
She stopped, stared, rage singing through her veins.
“Keita?” Ragnar slid his hand down her back. “What is it?”
Unable to answer, her anger too great, she marched across the street until she reached the pair. Lifting both her hands, she slammed them into the human male, shoving him to the side. She grudgingly had to admit she was impressed. Although hitting her brothers like that would do little more than annoy them, she had been known to break a few bones of the human males. This one, however, just stared at her.
“Keita?” he asked, obviously shocked.
“Do you think,” she snarled at the bastard, “that you can do this and get away with it? That
I’d
let you do this?”
The general of Annwyl’s armies and her sister’s worthless human mate frowned,
appearing
confused; then his eyes grew wide. “No, no. You don’t under—”
Unable to look at him without wanting to set him on fire, she spun on the girl. “You. Whore. Get from my sight, or I swear by all the gods that I’ll destroy
everything
that you love!”
The girl, rightly terrified, burst into tears and ran off, allowing Keita to focus on the man behind her.
She faced him, pointing a finger. “I should rip the flesh from your human carcass, you low-born—”
“She’s my cousin,” he cut in.
“Yeah. Right. Nice one. Like I’ve never heard
that
line of centaur shit before.”
“I was asking her to be our new nanny.”
That had a ring of truth to it, didn’t it? “New nanny?”
“We lost another nanny, and Morfyd asked me to see if my young cousin would take the position. The young cousin you just sent screaming and sobbing back to my aunt and uncle, who will probably never let me see her again.”
Keita lowered that accusing finger, knowing he spoke the truth. “Oh.”
“You can ask Morfyd, if you’d like. She knows my whole family. They adore her.”
“Brastias, I’m so…very…”
“No, no. It’s always wonderful when your fourteen-year-old cousin is called a whore on the street and you’re accused of betraying the mate you adore. And in front of the blacksmith, too.”
Keita looked over, and the blacksmith gave a happy wave.
“Truly, I am so sorry. I just—”
“You and Morfyd go at it like cats and dogs,” Brastias said, “but something always told me I never wanted to be on the wrong side of that.” He walked past her. “Now I know I was right.”
He headed off down the street, back to the castle, and tossed over his shoulder, “Some of the Cadwaladrs are dining with us tonight. With Izzy back, there will probably be dancing. I thought you should know.”
Keita buried her face in her hands. Mortified. She was absolutely mortified!
So when Ragnar put his arm around her shoulders and led her out of town, she didn’t even ask where they were going. She didn’t even care.
He took her deep into the forests, leading her along until he got to a small lake behind some large boulders. It was secluded and quiet, a place he’d stumbled upon when he’d been here two years before. Less than a mile away was the spot where Keita had stabbed him with her tail. She didn’t go into a rage often, but when she did…there were always so many victims.
He brushed off one of the smaller boulders and led her to it. “Sit.”
She did, planting her elbows on her knees and her face back in her hands.
“You all right?”
She answered, but he couldn’t make it out with her hands in the way, so he crouched in front of her and pulled them away. “What?”
“I said I’m mortified.”
“Is that a new experience for you?”
“Kind of.”
Ragnar brushed her hair from her face. “All right. So you called a child a whore and accused your sister’s mate of betraying her…I’m sure it could be worse.”
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to make you feel better?”
“You’re not very good at it.”
“I know. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.” She gave a little laugh. “I think it’s endearing.”
“Like the village slow boy who brings flowers to the pretty neighbor girl?”
“Pretty much…but I must say you have managed to make me feel better.” Keita sat up, scrutinizing the dragon crouched in front of her.
“What?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You know…you have a beautiful face.”
“Thank you?”
Reaching out, Keita framed his face with her hands.
“Has no one said that to you before?”
“Of course. My brother said it just the other day before he bought me a pretty new gown…and earrings.”
“You Northlanders do love your sarcasm.”
“It gets us through the day.”
“Would this help you get through the day?” And then she kissed him, pressing her lips to his, stroking her hands across his jaw.
To Keita’s surprise, unlike their first kiss, there was no response from Ragnar. She might as well have been kissing the boulder she was sitting on.
Feeling a little idiotic, she pulled back and found those strange blue eyes watching her.
“Was I too forward, warlord?”
“No. But I’m no Southlander.”
“Which means what exactly?”
“Something about you tugs at me, Keita, and I won’t be shooed away like some irritating fly once you bed me. You can play that game with your Fire Breathers, not with me.”
“So should I hand my wings over now or wait until you come first?”
His smile was a little sad as he took the hands she still had pressed against his face and gently pushed them back into her lap. “If that’s the best you think of me, perhaps you should find yourself someone else. A safer distraction for Her Majesty than a wing-removing bastard of a Lightning.”
He rose to his full height, towering over her with all that power and muscle. As a dragoness, she should feel wary. Ready to fight or flee at the slightest move from the Northlander who made her feel so uncomfortable.
“It’s all right,” he said. “To the rest of the world we’ll be ravenous lovers.”
He took a step away, and Keita reached out, catching hold of his inside thigh. Keeping her hand there, she stood. She only reached his shoulder, but that was enough.
“How about we make a deal?” she suggested.
“What kind of deal?”
“I promise not to shoo you away like a…what was it? An irritating fly? And you promise not to force a Claiming.” She pressed her hand hard against his thigh. “Seduce me, if you like. Charm me, if you can. But no more than that. If that’s amenable to you.”
Ragnar turned toward her, stepped in close. Her hand automatically moved up until it pressed against the sizable cock he had hidden behind his leggings. His big hands slid into her hair, fingers massaging her scalp while he tilted her head back.
“That’s a deal I can agree to,” he murmured, his gaze searching her face.
“Then kiss me, warlord. I think we’ve both waited long enough.”
He knew he’d made a dangerous decision as soon as he took her mouth with his own. Nothing had ever tasted sweeter to him, nothing had ever felt so perfect. And what kind of deal had he agreed to? A deal that, at the moment, felt impossible to abide by when all he wanted to do was toss her over his shoulder and fly her back to his Northland home. Yet he knew that the one way to lose Keita forever was to break his word to her. And not the everyday things that males promise their females—“I know I said I’d clean up the ox carcass from the dining hall, but I’ve been busy!”—but this deal in particular. It was a test, and they both knew it. Because what Keita wanted above all else was her freedom. The freedom to go where she liked, when she liked, with whomever she liked. That meant everything to her. Of all the commitments they’d made to each other over the last few days, some that risked life and death and the future of their territories, this was the one that could make Keita his or push her away forever.