Chapter 3
The next morning Vigholf walked into his brother’s war room and asked the question that had been plaguing him all night. “Know anyone who can fix a spear?”
“A spear?” Ragnar the Cunning glanced up from his scrolls. “When did you start fighting with spears again?”
“Not my spear.” He sat back on his haunches and gazed over what Ragnar was looking at. “What’s this?”
“The tunnel plans.” For nearly seven months they’d had their troops digging out a tunnel that would lead them directly under the Polycarp Mountains and right into the Irons’ stronghold. Once in, they could take the Irons unaware and destroy them. At least that was the current plan. Whether it would work or not was anyone’s guess, but it was better than sitting around and waiting for something to happen. “It shouldn’t be much longer now.”
“Good. Because the Irons are getting bolder.”
“Why do you say that?” Ragnar asked.
“Another attempt to get in here. Don’t know what they think they’ll find, though.”
“How many were there this time?”
“About ten trying to get our attention and three Elites trying to sneak past.”
Ragnar looked up again. “Only three?”
“Yes.” Vigholf saw a pile of dried and smoked cows’ legs in the corner and he went over and grabbed one. “Which is why I say I don’t understand what they’re doing. Coming to spy, maybe?”
“Perhaps.” Ragnar sat back on his haunches. “Or they know about the tunnel or they’ve found a weakness here. Something we’ve missed.”
“Don’t be so paranoid.” Vigholf ripped the flesh off the cow’s leg with his fangs. “We didn’t miss anything, we’ve got all the entrances and exits covered. And if they knew about the tunnels, Thracius would have destroyed them by now.”
“You don’t know that.”
Meinhard walked in and Vigholf tossed him a cow’s leg as well. “Ragnar’s being paranoid.”
“When isn’t he?”
“We can’t afford for anyone to get in here,” Ragnar reminded them. “So do me a favor and see if we may have missed any more possible entrances.”
“You’re asking for a favor?” Vigholf said.
“Like we’re old chums?” Meinhard added.
Fed up, Ragnar snapped, slamming his claws against the thick wood table. “Do what I tell you!”
“No need to get snappy,” Meinhard muttered, and Vigholf hid his smile behind the cow’s leg.
“Bastards,” Ragnar complained with a snarl, but it quickly turned to a smile when the lovely Princess Keita walked in.
“Oooh,” she cheered. “All these handsome males in one place. It makes a girl so happy!”
Ragnar held his claw out and Keita took it, allowing him to pull her tight against his side.
“The Irons tried to get in here again. It’s making me concerned,” Ragnar murmured to her.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I’m glad you’re going with Ren to Dark Plains.”
“Ren’s leaving?” Vigholf asked. Ren of the Chosen was what the Northlanders termed a “foreign dragon,” which meant he was from somewhere none of them had ever been before. Specifically the Eastland territories across the sea. He’d turned out to be a helpful ally. Good fighting skills and he could work Magick as well. It helped during the heat of battle.
“He’s needed in Dark Plains,” Ragnar answered while he studied Keita’s face. “And Keita’s going with him.”
“Your brother is trying to get rid of me.”
“You know I’m not.”
“And we like having you here,” Vigholf volunteered. “You’re the only reason Ragnar’s even remotely pleasant.”
“Thank you,” Ragnar said flatly.
Keita petted Ragnar’s neck. “I could stay. If you need me to.”
“I do need you. But I’ll feel better if you’re far away from here.” He squeezed her. “Go with Ren. He’ll appreciate the company.”
“About that . . .” Keita went up on the tips of her claws and began whispering in Ragnar’s ear. Vigholf glanced at Meinhard, but his cousin was too busy sucking the marrow from that cow leg to notice anything.
“You sure?” Ragnar asked.
Keita nodded. “She’s the best choice.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt she’ll be happy about it.”
“She’ll do it for me. Besides, I’m betting she’d like some time away from my aunt.”
“I’ll feel better if it’s her. She’s good.”
“And you don’t like the idea of me being alone with Ren,” she teased. “But he knows that I’m
your
Battle Twat!”
“It’s maid, Keita!” Ragnar complained over Vigholf and Meinhard’s laughter. “It’s Battle
Maid
. Not Battle Twat or Battle Slut or Battle Slag. Battle. Maid.”
She giggled and slipped away from him, silently walking out of the room.
“What was that about?” Vigholf asked.
“Protection detail for the flight back to the Southlands.”
“Why would they need that? The foreigner can handle himself and Keita, quite well.”
Ragnar began to say something, stopped. Thought a moment and finally said, “He might be distracted. It’s best he has a guard.
Especially
with Keita traveling with him.”
“Who? One of her brothers? Gods,” Vigholf quickly added, “not the boy.”
“No. Éibhear stays here. And I need Fearghus and Briec here as well. We’re sending one of the cousins instead.” He flicked his claws. “Keep this quiet for now, and we can discuss later.”
“A Cadwaladr, though?” Vigholf pushed. “Willing to leave battle to be protection detail for a couple of royals?” He shook his head. “It will never happen.”
“And you know Keita won’t take no for an answer,” Ragnar reminded him. “My dragoness always knows how to get what she wants. No matter how bloody annoying she has to be to do it.”
Although Rhona had been unable to find time the previous eve to bathe after several additional things came up that needed her attention, she’d finally managed to sneak away during first meal. Now she stood under the waterfall and let the water pour down on her. It felt wonderful against her scales, pounding the tension out of her body and massaging her muscles.
Aaaaaah. Just what she needed. A chance to relax and simply enjoy the quiet and—
“Cousin!”
Rhona faced the cave wall, refusing to be interrupted. Refusing to let her kin invade what had become an almost sacred thing for her—a bath. A gods-damn bath.
“Rhona, you’re so funny,” Keita said, moving closer. “I know you can hear me.”
Letting out a sigh, realizing she couldn’t avoid this, Rhona faced her cousin, but she refused to be moved from her spot under the waterfall.
“What is it, Keita?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing. And to tell you how pretty you look with your warrior braids in your hair. Ever thought of adding ribbons to—”
“No.” Rhona examined her cousin. She was buttering Rhona up for something. “I will never put ribbons in my hair. Now, what do you want, Keita?”
“Well—”
“If you dance around this any more, I’m going to get tense.”
“All right, all right. No need to threaten. I just need a small favor.”
“There are no small favors where you’re concerned. So just get it out.”
“I need you to escort me and Ren back to Dark Plains.”
“No.”
Keita frowned. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean no. I mean you’re up to something, Keita the Viper, and I’m not getting in the middle of it.” Then again, Keita was always up to something. Although rarely mentioned, this particular war was, in fact, down to the actions of Keita the Viper when she’d lobbed the head of the Overlord’s wife at him in the middle of the Province’s main arena. After that particular move, the war was pretty much a foregone conclusion. And, as far as Rhona was concerned, all Keita’s fault.
“Oh, come now,” Keita pushed. “That’s not fair. And I really need you to do this for me.”
“We both know Ren can take care of himself, he needs no escort.”
“I’m going with him as well.”
“He’s capable of escorting you, too.” Confused, Rhona asked, “Isn’t that something you two do all the time? Travel around the world with Ren as your escort?”
“He’ll be busy.”
“Busy with what?”
“Things.”
“Forget it.” Rhona began to turn away again, but Keita caught her forearm.
“Look, I can’t really go into this. At least not here.” Keita leaned in and whispered loudly so she could be heard over the rushing water, “The cave walls have ears.”
“Those are called bats.”
“Och! Why must you argue
everything
?”
“Because you’re trying to pull me into your insanity. I won’t go, cousin.”
“I need you, Rhona. This is important.”
Rhona grunted.
“If you don’t believe me, ask Ragnar. He’ll tell you.”
Beginning to believe her cousin was sincere—Keita would never send Rhona to Ragnar the Cunning unless she really was telling the truth—Rhona asked, “Why do you need to go back?”
“Ragnar would feel safer with me in Dark Plains.”
“So would I. This is no place for you, Keita.”
“Then you best take me back to Garbhán Isle.” The human queen’s seat of power in Dark Plains.
“I can’t,” Rhona admitted, thinking of all she had to do. “But I’ll see if the triplets—”
“No!” Keita barked, startling Rhona. “They’ll be missed.”
“What do you mean they’ll be—”
“Everyone will notice if they’re gone, and ask questions. I can’t have any questions asked. So your brothers can’t go either. Or any of your siblings. This needs to be done quietly.”
Rhona put her claws on her hips and glared down at her much smaller cousin. “Did you only pick me because no one would notice if I was gone?”
“It’s not that they wouldn’t notice you’re gone.... They’d just be glad you are.”
“Well, thank you very much!”
Keita’s tail slammed down into the water. “You’re taking this the wrong way!”
“How else am I
supposed
to take it?”
“That’s it!” Keita slashed her claws through the air. “I am Daughter of Queen Rhiannon, low-born cousin, and as a lowly soldier you’ll do as I say!”
Without speaking, Rhona moved forward—and kept moving forward until her cousin had been backed into the far wall.
“All right! All right!” Keita brought up her claws to ward Rhona off. “No need to get testy!”
“Then watch that you don’t irritate me, cousin.”
“Please, Rhona. Once we’re free of this place, I can explain everything. But not here, not now. And I’m asking you to do this because I trust you. Ren trusts you. And you know the pair of us trust few.”
Damn her. Keita always knew how to get her way. Yet Rhona did have to admit that her cousin—for once—appeared sincere. And a bit worried. Keita was never worried about anything.
“Ragnar will know, yeah? That I’m with you? That I’m following orders? If it comes up. Don’t need my kin thinking I’m a deserter.”
“Of course they won’t!” Keita again put her claw on Rhona’s forearm. “Trust me. When this is all said and done, you’ll be seen as a hero.”
Rhona chuckled. “Don’t need all that. Just don’t get me tossed into your mum’s dungeons and we’ll be fine.”
Keita’s grin was bright and pretty. “That I can manage!”
Vigholf looked up from his fifth cow leg when Keita returned to the chamber. Meinhard had headed out, but Vigholf, wanting to know more about what was going on, had stayed.
Keita smiled at Vigholf as she passed and sashayed her way over to Ragnar.
He’d admit it. Vigholf didn’t understand his brother. Keita had been with Ragnar for five years now, even coming with him when they moved from their Northland home to this valley. And although she’d been forced to stay in this cave with cranky soldiers and pesky kin, she never once complained or seemed unhappy. And yet Ragnar still hadn’t Claimed her. He still hadn’t put his mark upon her that would let every dragon know that Keita’s heart belonged to him and him alone. What the dragon was waiting for, Vigholf had no idea. The war gods knew that Vigholf wouldn’t have waited if he had a She-dragon ready to be his mate. Good females were too hard to come by. And Keita was one of the best. Pretty, smart, charming, elegant, and very loyal. Those dragons who dare question Ragnar’s rule as Dragonlord of the Hordes usually ended up with uncomfortable rashes under their scales, unexplainable hair loss, or coughing up blood. After several cases of that sort of thing happening, the rest of them learned to keep quiet or, at the very least, not complain about Ragnar in front of Keita.
“All set,” she said, smiling.