Authors: G. A. Aiken
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Romance, #dragons
“There’s a fine layer of dust over everything—and her overall presence has begun to fade from this place.”
Keeping her back to Ren and pressing her hand to her stomach, Keita asked, “Is she dead?”
“I don’t know. But if she is, she didn’t die here.”
Ren’s instincts were never wrong, and he never lied to Keita. If someone had killed her aunt, he’d know and tell her.
“Was she taken?”
“I don’t sense that. It’s clean here. Like she just left.”
Keita faced him. “And went where?”
“I don’t know, but nothing says anything is wrong either.”
“Except my mother knowing Esyld’s here.”
“Your mother knows lots of things. I doubt she acts on a fifth of them.”
“But this is Esyld the Traitor.”
“Whom the queen sent a Lightning to retrieve.”
“Perhaps she was hoping Esyld wouldn’t survive the trip.”
“Then she would have sent your father’s kin, whose loyalty is unquestionable—but whose honor is a little shaky.”
“You think I’m worrying over nothing, don’t you?”
“You rarely worry, my friend. So when you do worry, it’s never over nothing. But I’m not sure what we can do at this point.”
“Track her down?”
“So your mother will definitely know where she is?”
He was right. As always.
“What do you suggest I do?”
“Go home.” When she sneered, he added, “You’ll never find out what your mother is up to if you don’t.”
“And you think she’ll tell me?”
“Doubtful. But your brothers will, if they know. Their mates. Your friends in court. Don’t act like you don’t know how to get information, my dear Lady Keita.”
Now smiling, Keita went up on her toes and draped her arms around Ren’s neck. “Why, my dear friend, are you suggesting I
spy
on my mother’s court?”
“I’m aghast you’d even suggest such a thing.”
They laughed together until Ren gestured to the door. “Let’s be off. The sooner we get back to Devenallt Mountain, the sooner we can be rid of your brother’s barbarian guard unit.”
The thought of that had Keita practically sprinting for the door.
As she stepped into Esyld’s house, she stopped in the doorway and studied the barbarian. He stood in the middle of her aunt’s house, naked—except for that travel bag he kept with him at all times—looking incredibly delicious in his extremely large and muscular human form and awfully innocent. Too innocent.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Nothing.”
Slowly the Lightning’s gaze locked on hers, and for what felt like a lifetime, they stared at each other. He was lying—she knew he was lying—but she had no proof.
“Ready to go?” Ren asked.
“Yes,” she finally replied. “I’m ready.”
Ren walked out, the barbarian behind him, and, letting out a breath, Keita followed. But she stopped halfway through the house, her eyes quickly scanning the room. She felt that something was missing, but whether it was missing when they all first walked in or only after the Lightning had been alone in Esyld’s house, Keita didn’t know.
Unable to pinpoint anything she could accuse the warlord of—and terribly annoyed by that—she walked out and shifted back to her natural form. In silence, they returned to the others, only to find the two remaining barbarians punching at the rock wall where Ren had disappeared.
Ren turned away, his shoulders shaking, while Ragnar watched his kin, trying to figure out what they were doing. Keita raised her brows at her brother but Éibhear could only manage a helpless shrug.
And gods, she had at least several more days of this. Only the dread of seeing her mother outweighed being trapped with such distinct stupidity.
They camped near the coast late that night. They stopped at a location that not only had the sea at their back but a river cutting through the land and a small lake nearby.
Vigholf and Meinhard went off to scout the area, ensuring they would all be safe for the next few hours, while the Blue gathered firewood and continued talking. Mostly to himself.
“You’re exhausted,” the foreigner said.
The comment was not directed at him, but Ragnar still looked over his shoulder and watched the Eastland dragon stroke his claw along the princess’s cheek. For the life of him, Ragnar didn’t understand the relationship these two had. Together? Not together? What?
“I am,” she said, stifling a yawn. “I tried to sleep in that horrid dungeon, but all that soft sobbing and begging the gods for help…honestly, how many times can a man chant, ‘Save me from the beast, dear gods in heaven, I repent all my ills if you’ll only save me from the beast’ before he stops? It’s not as if I had any intention of eating him. At least that dog had been bathed recently.” Her snout wrinkled a bit. “I can’t just eat
anything
, you know.”
“Excellent point.”
“But I must admit, I am hungry.”
“I’ll get us something!” the Blue offered, dropping the extra wood near a pit fire he’d already started with a blast of flame. He’d been in an intolerably good mood since his sister agreed to return with them.
Keita clapped her claws together. “Would you?” she asked so sweetly it made Ragnar’s back fangs ache. “I saw something with antlers over there.” She pointed, and her brother charged off.
Realizing that left him alone with the princess and her…whatever he was, Ragnar headed off toward the nearby beach. He had no desire or patience for more ridiculous conversation. Because wasn’t hearing the couple’s discussion about whether eating the tail of a dog was proper etiquette or not more than one dragon should be forced to take?
Ragnar walked to the sand’s edge and let the waves roll back and forth over his claws while he gazed off. When he felt calm and part of the earth, Ragnar closed his eyes and released his mind.
He searched the lines of Magick that kept all those who used such power connected. There were those who were so powerful, like the Dragon Queen, they could block at will the weaker witches and mages from ever sensing their presence. But Ragnar had strong skills and, due to the blessings and sacrifices of his mother, much power. He used his skills to skirt around Rhiannon so she could not sense him. Not easy because she was awake at this hour and calling power to her.
Once he successfully avoided the queen, Ragnar took his time and searched for Esyld. As Rhiannon had, it was through these lines that Ragnar had first discovered the queen’s sister, but this night there was nothing. He hated the thought that something had happened to Esyld. Hated even more that she might be doing something that would have her head removed right along with her front and back legs and her wings. These were dangerous times, and keeping out of trouble should be a task for everyone, but especially those who lived alone in the Outerplains, because the reigning Southland Dragon Queen thought of them as her enemy.
After some fruitless searching, Ragnar accepted the fact he wouldn’t find Esyld. At least not right now.
Disappointed, he released the energy that surrounded him back to the sea and opened his eyes. That’s when he saw the claw waving in front of his snout.
He closed his eyes again and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Oh. You’re back.”
“I never left.”
“Yes, but you weren’t quite here either.”
Ragnar opened his eyes. “Is there something you want, princess?”
“I have questions.”
“Can they not wait? It’s been a long day, and I’m tired.”
“Of course, you’re right. We can talk in the morning.”
Ragnar watched her walk off, but he sensed she wouldn’t sleep if he didn’t answer her questions. Since they had some hard traveling coming up—none of which he planned to do with her relaxing on his back, filing her talons—he asked, “Is this about Esyld?”
She stopped, her tail scratching patterns in the sand. “If it is?”
“Then perhaps you can ask your questions quickly.”
She looked at him over her shoulder. “How did you know about my aunt?”
Ragnar’s eyes nearly crossed. Why did he continue to expect more from her? But at least she seemed loyal to her aunt. Esyld would need friends when she was brought back to Dark Plains. Because Ragnar had no doubt that the queen would not give up until she found her sister. “Let me be clearer, princess. Ask your questions quickly and try not to make them inane.”
“Fine.” Keita returned to his side. “Have you fucked her?”
Ragnar cringed. “I see we’re sticking with inane.”
“Not if you’ve fucked her. Then you’re betraying your lover.”
“She is not my lover.”
“Now?”
“Ever.”
The princess sat back on her haunches, eyes narrowing. “Why did my mother choose you?”
“I don’t know.”
“What has she planned for my aunt?”
“No idea.”
“What
do
you know?”
“A vast number of things. But what your mother is thinking is not one of them.”
An agitated talon tapped on the sand.
“Why didn’t you tell your mother you knew where your aunt was?” he asked.
“Because other than fleeing for her life after my mother choked the life from my grandmother—an escape most would consider wise—my aunt has done nothing to earn or keep the title of traitor.”
“Are you sure?”
“What does that mean?”
Ragnar lifted up the traveling bag that lay beside him and placed it in front of her. “Look inside.”
Using her tail, Keita gingerly opened the bag and lowered her head to peek inside.
Ragnar might normally be insulted by such actions, but he knew the truth. “Could you be more obvious about having brothers?”
“Among my kin, if you open a bag without checking first, you might find yourself suddenly face-to-face with a poisonous sea snake—and you know how much their bites sting.”
When nothing slithered or leaped out of the bag, she picked it up with her front claws and dug inside.
“I don’t think you have enough parchment in here. And yes, that’s sarcasm.” She paused, pulling a robe out of his bag. “A monk? Really?”
“An innocent nobleman’s daughter?” he asked in return. “Really?”
“Point made, warlord.” She shoved the robe back in the bag and continued to dig. “Ooooh, shiny.”
Ragnar watched the royal closely as she pulled the necklace out from the bottom of the bag and held it up. Her gaze moved from the necklace to Ragnar. “When you’re alone do you also wear a matching gown and pretty pink slippers to go with this?”
“It was in your aunt’s house. Over her bed.”
“Are the Northland dragons truly
that
poor you must steal a She-dragon’s lone piece of jewelry?”
“Do you not recognize the style?”
She studied the piece and finally shrugged. “I’ve seen this style, as you call it, in every market in every town in—”
“Copies. Badly and cheaply made. This, however, is not.” He took hold of the necklace and turned it over. “It’s signed by the creator. Fucinus.”
“I’m not familiar with his work.”
“Not surprising. His only shop is in the heart of the Quintilian Sovereigns.”
The royal blinked. “So?”
Ragnar handed the necklace back to her. “When was the last time you were in the Sovereigns, princess? Has your mother an alliance with the iron dragons that I am not aware of?”
“Are you suggesting…Esyld couldn’t have…she wouldn’t…she can’t be that…” Keita’s talons wrapped tight around the necklace. “You can’t show this to my mother.”
“Do you understand the risk you take if I don’t tell her?”
“I always know the risks I take when dealing with my mother.”
“And yet you’d keep this from her? Perhaps the only clue we have?”
“A clue perhaps. But my mother will take one look at this and leap, headlong, to a conclusion. That’s what she does, and by the gods she does it well.”
“But protecting Esyld now—”
“I didn’t say I would protect her. I simply want real proof. This necklace could have been smuggled out of the Sovereigns. It wouldn’t be the first or the last. Esyld could have found it, bought it. It could have been given to her. All these things are possibilities but once my mother sees this, the chance to explore all that will be gone. So I’m saying again, you can’t show this to my mother.”
To Ragnar’s surprise, he didn’t doubt her words, or her conviction. He did, however, wonder at the why of it. Did she love her aunt so much? Or hate her mother even more?
“And what if Esyld has betrayed you?”
“Betraying me is one thing, my lord. Betraying my mother, another.” Keita stepped closer. “But if I find out Esyld has betrayed the throne…then she will have a problem that even I will be unable to get her out of.”
“Isn’t the throne your mother?”
“No. My mother is the queen. But the throne belongs to her subjects. To betray the throne is to betray us all.”
“And if Esyld has done that…?”
“Then she forfeits her life.”
Ragnar frowned. “It would be that easy for you?”
“Of course not. But the throne must be protected.” She studied the necklace held in the middle of her claw. “It is beautiful work.”
“It is. Have you ever been to the Sovereigns?”
Keita laughed. “Why would I do something so completely insane as that?”
“You were in the Northlands during my father’s time. I’d say that was pretty insane. Perhaps I don’t see the difference.”
“You don’t. To get caught in the Northlands may mean a forced mating, which may not be pleasant, Lord Ragnar, but at least one is still alive. To get caught in the Sovereigns, however, means a crucifixion. And a crucifixion means I’ll be dead. Not much one can do when dead, now is there? Besides”—she crinkled her nose again—“I’ve heard crucifixions are not quick deaths, especially for dragons.”
“They’re not.” Ragnar again faced the vast sea before him. “There’s lots of screaming and bleeding and a cheering crowd. It’s extremely unpleasant.”
She leaned around and peered at him. “You’ve seen one.”
“I’ve seen lots of things.”
“I mean you’ve seen one in the Sovereigns.”
“I have.”
“Why would you risk going there? I heard the Irons loathe the Lightnings.”
“They do, but it’s hard to fight an enemy you’ve never seen.”
“I’d heard they loathe you, but I hadn’t heard they’d become your enemies.”
“I don’t know they are, but I’ve been hearing for years that the Sovereigns are readying for war.”
The princess snorted and looked out over the sea, shaking her head. “My Lord Ragnar, the Sovereigns are
always
readying for war. So I wouldn’t feel too special.” She looked over at him and, with a small smile, said, “From what I understand, they’ll kill just about anybody.”
“Gods, Ren. The Sovereigns? If she’s had any dealings with them, I won’t be able to help her. No one will.”
Ren of the Chosen Dynasty watched his friend and traveling companion stare off across the small lake they’d been relaxing in while they waited for Éibhear to finish cooking the meat he’d brought back.
“Before you begin panicking—”
“I do not panic.”
“—let’s see what we can find out first. We’ll be passing Fenella in the next two days anyway. We’ll stop there for a bit. I know someone who can appraise the necklace for us, and I’d trust him quicker than that slack-jawed barbarian.”
Keita chuckled a little. “And I can visit Gorlas. If anyone knows anything—”
“It’ll be Gorlas,” Ren agreed, knowing their old friend and mentor’s reach wasn’t confined to the Southlands. That elf had connections
everywhere
and knowledge about
everyone
. He prided himself on that. “But I want you to stop worrying about your aunt for now. There’s nothing we can do at the moment.”
“I guess.”
Not willing to let Keita obsess over what she couldn’t control, a little-known curse of hers, Ren removed the wine cup from her hand and placed it on the hard-packed dirt beside them. He motioned to his hair and turned away from her.
“My hair needs a good scrubbing, not your whining.”
“I’m not a servant, Eastlander.”
“But no one does it quite as well as you, my dear, old, sweet friend.” He looked over his shoulder at her and fluttered his eyes.
“You’re pathetic,” she reminded him even while she rested on her knees and proceeded to scrub his hair clean of all the dirt and grime.
“’Tis true, but I’ve learned to accept my weakness. You should as well.”
He sighed luxuriously and let his head fall back a little more. “I guess I should warn you that when we get back to Dark Plains, we may have to deal with your cousin.”
“You’ll have to be more specific than that, I’m afraid. If there’s a feast at Garbhán Isle, there will be many cousins I’ll have to deal with.”
Ren laughed. “Good point, but I was specifically speaking of, um, Elestren.”
“Oh.”
Ren was sure that Keita’s last few days at the Dragonwarrior training mountain, Anubail, were still firmly etched in her often fleeting memory. What a bad suggestion that had been on his part. A few months of unarmed combat training were all she really needed, and she only needed that to help her get over how helpless she’d felt while in the hands of the Northlanders. What he hadn’t counted on was that green-scaled cousin of hers. For not only was Keita no better in a fistfight now than she had been then, but last either of them had heard, even Keita’s father—Bercelak the Great himself—could not manage to get the ban lifted that prevented Keita from ever returning to Anubail Mountain. “I still say that was not my fault,” Keita went on. She’d been arguing this same point since the day he’d come for her at her father’s urgent request. Still bleeding from a head wound and nursing a broken forearm, Keita kept saying what she was saying now. “What happened to her was an accident…self-defense even, and she has no one to blame but herself. Besides, how many times should I apologize? The fact that I, a descendant of the royal bloodline, apologized at all, should be enough. But ignoring that I not only apologized multiple times but also sent that whiny viper some very decorative and fashionable eye patches to cover that gaping wound where her eye was! In my mind that should be more than enough. Don’t you agree?”