Authors: G. A. Aiken
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Romance, #dragons
Ren clenched his jaw, but the snort slipped past his best defenses and he began laughing. Keita’s arms dropped over his shoulders, her cheek pressed against his, and she joined him. Both laughing until they cried—and until they knew they were no longer alone.
The Northland dragonlord stood a few feet away, in his dragon form, scowling at them. Ren knew the Lightning was confused. He didn’t understand their relationship, and Ren found that delightful. He had the feeling this dragon was not remotely used to feeling confused.
“Do you want something, warlord?” Keita asked, wiping tears from her eyes.
“There’s food,” he said. Then, pointing at them, he asked, “Are you two…what I mean is…are you…” He stopped and briefly shut his eyes. “Forget it,” he said. And they watched him head back to camp.
Holding Keita’s arms, Ren looked at her. “My, my, you do have his cock in a knot, don’t you?”
Keita frowned. “You think?”
“Can’t you tell?”
“He glares at me mostly. And talks to me as if I’m the stupidest female he’s ever met. I don’t think he likes me.”
“I can’t argue that point with you, my friend. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t lust after you.” And it immediately struck him how he could distract his friend for a bit until they found out more information on her aunt. “Although…I doubt you could get him.”
“Oh, I could get him.”
“Really?”
“You’re all alike, Ren. Leading with your cocks, the head on your shoulders following stupidly behind.”
“How much, Princess Brag-a-Lot? Since you’re so sure.”
“Come now. That’s the easiest bet ever when a male’s involved.”
“That dragon is no ordinary male. His high opinion of himself doesn’t allow for any fun or unnecessary fucking. He has important things to do. With important dragons, which you’re not. In his estimation, of course. Not mine.”
Laughing, Keita said, “Well, let’s see….” She tapped her chin and gazed up at the sky. “How about that gold chair you have?”
“You mean my ancient throne? It took me months to dig that up from the bowels of my cave, and it weighs at least a thousand pounds.”
“I’m not paying for shipping.”
“And what do I get if you lose?”
“Which will not happen, but…” She pursed her lips in thought. “How about that Magick-infused sword thing you wanted?”
“The Sword of Mallolwch?” She shrugged. “You lying cow! You told me you lost it.”
“No. I said, ‘It’s around here somewhere…I think. Maybe.’”
“You are the most deceitful—” Ren’s headed lifted, his nostrils flaring. “Smell that?” he asked.
Keita lifted her nose and sniffed before inhaling deeply. “Éibhear’s cooked meat,” she sighed.
“Éibhear’s cooked meat,” he repeated.
Together they scrambled out of the water, shoving each other, first in human form, then in dragon, trying to be the first to get to the delicious feast they were sure Éibhear had created.
Swords were strapped to backs or around waists. Battle axes and bows were tied to saddles. Beasts that resembled horses, but with curled horns and red eyes, pawed the ice-covered ground, anxious to be on their way. Pets that traveled by their sides were summoned with a whistle or a howl. Them that were once men were taken from cages and leashed collars placed around their necks. They’d lead the way like eager dogs, running on all fours, their wills long ago broken when they’d challenged those they never thought they’d have to fear.
A never-ending ice storm railed, but it didn’t matter to the likes of them. For they were on a mission given to them by one of their mighty gods. They worshipped a few but were respected by all. Because when they was given a task, nothing, absolutely nothing, stopped them from seeing it through.
Their beasts mounted, their loyal pets at their sides, them that were men running nearly on all fours, the gates to their Ice Land fortress opened and they, like demons from the underworld, were unleashed onto an unsuspecting land. And they would follow the edicts of their gods even if it meant death to any and all who got in their way.
With the sound of mighty hooves pounding against rock-hard ice still ringing in her ears, Keita awoke to find Ragnar the Cunning staring down at her.
She squeaked in surprise and called out, “Evil rises from the pit to destroy me!” He frowned, but it seemed more out of confusion than rage, and Keita turned and buried her head against the scale-covered chest behind her. Ren stroked her back with fur-covered claws, and said, “Now, now, little one. It’s nothing to fear. Just a scary North Dragon with plans to destroy all that you love.”
She shuddered and whispered loud enough for all to hear, “He frightens me. Make him go away.”
“Shoo!” Ren said, forcing Keita to bury her snout deeper into his chest to prevent the burst of laughter bubbling up her throat. “Shoo!”
“We leave in five minutes.”
“We’ll be ready,” Ren promised.
When the Lightning had stomped off, barking orders at his kin, Ren snorted a laugh, and Keita giggled into his chest.
“Would you two cut it out?” Éibhear chastised, busy cleaning up the campsite. “You’re being intolerable.”
Keita rolled onto her back and frowned at her talons when she realized one had a crack at the tip. “Who? Us?”
“Yes. You. This could only be worse if Gwenvael were here.”
Both Keita and Ren sighed. “Ahhh, Gwenvael,” she said.
“Good times,” Ren added.
“Aye. That they were. The three of us together, causing mayhem wherever we went.” Keita sat up, one forearm draped over her knee. “He’s not really mated, is he?”
“He is. And she’s amazing,” Éibhear said.
Keita glanced at Ren, gave him a little wink. Éibhear was at the stage where
everyone
was amazing or interesting or beautiful. Of course, Keita had grown out of that stage less than a year after hatching and, if she had been told correctly, her eldest brothers, Fearghus and Briec, never went through that stage at all. So perhaps Éibhear was making up for all of them. Except, of course, Morfyd. Perfect, untainted,
loving
Morfyd.
“She’s ever so smart. Extremely smart.”
“Reads a lot, does she?” Ren asked, prompting Keita to elbow him in the ribs.
“She does. But it’s not just that. She’s insanely logical. Not like you at all, Keita.”
Ren, who’d been sitting up, fell back laughing while Keita threw her claws up.
“I’ll have you know I’m extremely logical.”
Scattering the bones left over from their dinner the previous eve so that the local predators could use what they hadn’t, Éibhear shook his head and stated, “I can assure you that Dagmar Reinholdt would never have ended up on the wrong side of an execution.”
“Are you still harping on that?” Keita demanded.
“You could have gotten out of there at any time, but you always have to play your little games.”
“You’re bloody amazing. If I’d allowed myself to be executed, you’d have been angry. But if I’d burned down the town, you’d have been angrier.” Keita got up, making sure to slap Ren’s face several times with her tail since he was still laughing. “I can never win with you!”
Éibhear stared at her over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place if you hadn’t killed the man.”
“What part of ‘It wasn’t me’ are you not grasping?”
Her baby brother tipped his head to the side, and Keita bared her fangs before yelling, “It
wasn’t
me!”
Éibhear pointed a talon. “But did you plan to kill him?”
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“I’m sorry,” Ragnar cut in. “But exactly what kind of answer is that?”
Keita glared over at him. Gods he was big. Completely blocking out the two suns with that big body and even bigger head! And all that purple. What an annoying, strange color! “And at what point did you feel you were invited into this conversation, cretin?”
“Keita!” Éibhear snapped and immediately stood by the Lightning. “That was rude. Apologize!”
Keita was about to tell Éibhear what he could do with his bloody apologies when Ren whispered in her ear, “Have you already forgotten our wager, my friend?”
Dammit. She had forgotten. But that, like most things, was not her fault. It was early, and she hadn’t eaten yet. “Besides, we do have to put up with all of them for a few more days. It couldn’t hurt to be nice,” Ren added softly.
Knowing her friend was right, Keita loosely waved her claws in the air. “Gods! I am sorry, Lord Ragnar. As you can see, I’m not a morning dragon, and I get a bit snappy before first meal. My sincerest apologies.”
“We’re all that way,” Meinhard muttered while he packed up his travel bag.
“No worries,” Vigholf tossed in.
“I can and always have been able to speak for myself,” Ragnar said, his gaze still on Keita.
“Well, you do forgive me, don’t you, my lord?” She walked up to him, her tail swinging out behind her until she was close enough that the tip could move up his chest. “It would be awful if you were still angry with me.”
Ragnar stared at her tail while his brother and cousin stood up straight, their attention locked on her…which was about the time her brother grabbed her tail and dragged her into the forest.
“We’ll be right back,” he said, pulling her a good distance away, ignoring all the trees and brush they knocked down or completely destroyed in the process.
“Éibhear, you little shit! Let me go!” He did, by flinging her tail away from him, her body naturally following.
“What are you up to?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t lie to me, Keita.” He leaned in, pointed a talon at her. “You and Ren together is rarely a good thing for outsiders. So I ask again, what are you up to?”
Keita stood, using her front claws to brush the forest dirt off her scales. “I am up to nothing, little brother.”
“Don’t give me that. You just better not be playing games again.”
“What games?”
“Keita—”
“Oh, what, little brother? You’ve been off for two years and you think you can order
me
around like Fearghus and Briec?”
Éibhear blinked. “They order you around?”
“They’ve tried. They’ve failed. Trust me when I say you will fare no better.”
“Look.” He caught hold of her shoulder and pulled her a little farther away, lowering his voice. “I understand you have much to hate this dragon for. He kidnapped you, held you hostage, and tried to negotiate with Mum for you.”
Keita shrugged. “I’m over that.”
Éibhear released her. “What do you mean you’re over that? How can you be over that?”
“Because I am. Unlike the rest of my kin, I don’t hold grudges. I never have. They’re boring. You know how—”
“Yes!” he cut in. “I know how you hate being bored.”
“Then you don’t have to worry I’m out for vengeance. He never physically harmed me. His brother and cousin were very kind given the situation. So…I’m over it, and want nothing but the best for all involved.”
“Aw, Keita.” Éibhear buried his face into his claws. “You’re trying to bed him, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking—”
His head snapped up, silver eyes glaring. “Keita.”
“It’s for a throne! And what do you care who or what Ren and I wager on?”
“Because I remember well how ugly things can get when you two start this. And I want you both to stop it right now.”
“I take orders from no one, brother, but especially not you. Besides. I really want that throne.” She turned to walk away, but Éibhear placed his back claw on her tail.
“Dammit! Why do you all attack my tail?”
“Because it’s the most dangerous part of you. And I can’t believe you and Ren are wagering on who you can get into bed. Aren’t you too old for that?”
“Not when it involves a throne!”
Snarling, her brother said, “Now listen to me. When the feast ends, I want to go back with Lord Ragnar and the others. Don’t ruin this for me.”
“Go back? To the Northlands? Whatever for?”
“I’m learning a lot. I’ll never be as good as Briec or Fearghus if I stay here.”
“I notice you left Gwenvael off that list.”
“I guess he has his moments. When he’s not whining.”
Keita leaned in and whispered, “You’re not becoming like the Northlanders, are you?”
“What do you mean?”
“You don’t want to find a mate and lop her wings off or anything, do you?”
“They don’t do that anymore.” Keita smirked, and her brother said adamantly, “They don’t!”
“As long as you’re not getting any strange ideas. Or, you know, trying to avoid anyone in particular by returning to the Northlands.”
“I’m not avoiding anyone.”
“Uh-huh. Not even cute, tall nieces who aren’t actually blood relations?”
“We’re not having this conversation—again.”
“Cute, tall nieces who aren’t actually blood relations, but have the most adorable smile known to man or the gods?”
“
Can we just go?
” he bellowed, storming past her.
“No, no, brother. I guess I was wrong. You’re clearly not
avoiding
anyone.”
Ragnar was waiting to leave, the two suns rising higher as it grew later. He had a talon tapping when the siblings returned. The big blue royal stomping along like a cranky child and his sister running up behind him, yelling, “Just admit it! Just admit how you feel!”
The Blue picked up his travel bag. “Let it go, Keita.”
“Just admit it! You’ll feel better.”
“Shut. Up.”
“Make me.” She went up on her back legs and brought her front claws up, curling them into fists. “Let’s go. Right here. Right now. You’re not so big and tough that I can’t still take you.”
Vigholf leaned in and whispered to Ragnar. “She has no idea the truth of that.”
Meinhard slammed his back claw into Vigholf.
“Ow!”
With the elegance of a wounded animal, the princess danced around her brother. “Come on. Take your best shot, little brother.”
“I’m not hitting you.”
She ducked; she weaved. And all of it quite badly.
Vigholf sighed. “This is what happens when you let females think they can fight like the males.”
“I hear their human queen is good,” Meinhard remarked.
“She’s not half bad,” the Eastland dragon stated. “Although I have heard she is no friend of the Minotaur.”
Vigholf snorted. “Our Aunt Freida, with her one arm and missing foot, would be good too, with five thousand legions at her back.”
“No, Keita!” the Blue yelped. “Not the tickling! Stop it!”
“Think we should rescue the royal from his sister?” Meinhard asked Ragnar.
“If we hope to leave before the end of time…”
Briec the Mighty, second oldest in the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar, fourth in line to the throne of the White Dragon Queen now that his eldest brother had bred his demon spawn twins, Shield Hero of the Dragon Wars, Former Lord Defender of the Dragon Queen’s Throne, Benevolent Ruler of the fair Talaith’s heart, and proud father of two amazing daughters who were perfect merely because they were
his
daughters, located his eldest brother in the war room.
Fearghus stood behind the large table, an extensive map open in front of him. Brastias, General of Queen Annwyl’s armies, to his left, and Dagmar Reinholdt, the only female capable of tolerating his younger brother, Gwenvael, on his right. A small group of Annwyl’s elite guard stood around the table.
Fearghus looked up from the map. “What is it, Briec?”
“I just heard from Éibhear. He’s heading home.”
“Good.” Fearghus returned his focus to the map.
“And Keita’s with him.”
“Yes!”
Fearghus’s head came up again, and both he and Briec looked over at several of the soldiers who were grinning and slapping each other on the back. When Briec made black smoke come out of his nostrils, they looked away and stopped smiling.
Briec stepped farther into the room. “What’s this?” he asked, pointing at the map.
“Dagmar heard from Ghleanna—” Fearghus began.
“Izzy?” Briec immediately asked.
“She’s fine, brother. Ease yourself.”
Briec’s eldest, Iseabail, a soldier with Annwyl’s army, had been out with his Aunt Ghleanna’s troops for nearly two years now. And although he was not Izzy’s father by blood, he worried for her every day. Blood or not, Izzy was his daughter. She would always be his daughter.
“Then what is it?” Briec asked.
“More problems in the west. Entire towns destroyed near the Aricia Mountains.”
“I thought the army had a handle on the barbarians in the west.”
“The ones near the Western Mountains, yes, but we haven’t even moved past them yet.”
“Still? How hard is it to drive barbarian cretins back to the mud huts from which they came?” He glanced at Dagmar. “No offense.”
Cold grey eyes shielded by small circles of glass looked up from the map. “Since my mud-hut-living, barbarian, cretin people are not from the west…none taken.”
“We’re getting calls for assistance from the western kings,” Brastias explained.