Authors: G. A. Aiken
Tags: #Science Fiction & Fantasy, #Romance, #dragons
Although he did realize that he longed for the days when he didn’t have to deal with the royal Fire Breathers.
Gorlas watched one of his favorite beings pace restlessly around his private office. He clearly remembered when Keita had first wandered into his store. She’d been a bored student then, but with one look, Gorlas knew that sitting at a desk all day, listening to boring old professors give lectures, wasn’t the life for this beauty. Within a few days, the only classes she attended were his. Along with her Eastland friend, Ren of the Chosen. Both of them beautiful, smart, and devious. And considering the path Keita truly wanted to take, it was a perfect match for all of them.
Too bad she continued to forget the most important thing he’d always tried to teach her—her mother was not to be fucked with. Something Keita refused to believe. And now…now she was here.
“What the fuck was Esyld thinking?” Keita demanded. “She couldn’t keep her lovers in the Outerplains? She had to come
here
to meet them?”
“Calm down.”
“I will
not
calm down! Has she lost her mind? Has old age set in early? She’s going to get
both
of us killed!”
“Keita—”
She rested her hands on her hips. “Where?” Keita demanded. “Where was she meeting him? Here? In a rented chateau? At the queen’s favorite human pub? Where was this dumb female settling in to meet her lover so that everyone who reports to my mother could see her clearly? Where, Gorlas?”
“She was staying at Castle Moor.”
Keita gasped, reached back for her chair, and dropped into it. “No! You must be wrong.”
“That’s where she was sighted by my people. More than once.”
“My aunt was at Castle Moor?”
“I’d assumed you’d sent her there. It’s the one safe place I know when one wants to be discreet.”
“But…” she said, still dazed. “Castle Moor?
My
aunt?”
Smirking, Gorlas relaxed back in his chair. “I must say I’m a little surprised by the tone, Keita. Coming from you, I mean.”
“It would surprise no one that
I
have been to Castle Moor…several times. Or that I’m on a first-name basis with your oddly alluring fellow elf, Athol. But Esyld is not me.”
“It is a smart choice.” Castle Moor was far removed from Southland politics and the notice of either the Dragon Queen or her human counterpart, the Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle. For enough coin, anyone looking to have some private time with a lover or lovers could find it at Castle Moor. And Athol, lord of the manor, was well known for keeping his mouth shut. Gorlas only knew who came and went because he made it his business to know, and he didn’t spread around what he heard.
“I guess that’s true,” Keita said “Do you think she’s there now?”
“It’s possible, but I haven’t exactly been monitoring your aunt.” Perhaps he should have, but he’d never thought the dragoness would be so foolish as to get caught. Now Gorlas wished he’d contacted Keita and told her what he knew, but he thought her aunt simply had desires that needed to be filled. He knew it must be hard to live all alone in the Outerplains with nothing but your herbs, spells, and forest animals to keep you company.
“I’ll need to go there. See if I can find her.”
“How long has it been since you were there last?”
“Ages. Think Athol will mind?”
“Extremely doubtful. He was always quite fond of you.”
“That’s good. Because if my mother finds out about all this, I may have to hide in Castle Moor myself.”
“Will that be such a hardship, my lady?”
“At the moment…yes. Besides, you know I don’t like being trapped anywhere.” Keita rested her elbow on the table, her chin in her palm.
“What else, Keita?” he pushed. He knew she wasn’t telling him everything.
“There is the slightest chance…that Esyld’s lover is a Sovereign.”
Gorlas’s heart plummeted. “Oh…Keita.”
“I know,” she sighed. “Because this all couldn’t just be bad, my dear friend. It had to be
very bad
!”
Keita had just turned a corner, heading toward the city gates, when Ren fell into step beside her.
“Well?” she asked, her mind turning.
“The Northlander was right about the necklace. Designed and created by Fucinus himself, most likely.”
Keita stopped walking and stamped her foot. “Fuck me!” she snarled.
A man walking by with his friends turned toward her and said, “Is that an offer, luv?”
Without taking her gaze off Ren, Keita reached out and grabbed hold of the man’s balls through his trousers. She let heat sear him while she said to Ren, “We have a problem.”
The man began to scream, but Keita didn’t even notice or care. She had more important things on her mind.
Ren slapped her hand off the man’s damaged groin and yanked her down the road until they were well away from the man and his friends. “Must you take it out on some poor sod because—”
“Because I may have trusted a traitor?” she filled in for him. “And who else would I take it out on?” she asked. “Clearly not myself!”
Ren stopped and released her. “I forgot who I’m dealing with. So what’s our problem?”
“Apparently Esyld has been coming into Southland territories for months.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Exactly. She’s been going to Castle Moor.”
The friends stared at each other a moment and then said in unison, “Moor, Moor, Moor.”
They laughed until Keita said, “It’s not funny.”
“No, no. Not funny.” Ren rested his hands on his hips. “Although, it is Esyld…so that’s a little funny.”
“She was going to meet a lover.”
“Esyld had a lover? A Sovereign?”
“All Gorlas could tell me was that he wasn’t a local.”
“So what do you want to do?”
“We have to stop at Athol’s before we head home.”
A shiny black brow peaked. “Do we really have time for that, Keita?”
“I can assure you, I only go there to get my questions answered. My orgy days have
long
been over.”
“Huh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say that before.”
“I can give you lots of reasons why.” She took Ren’s arm in her own, and they slowly headed toward the city gates. “But honestly, my friend, orgies are simply too much work.”
Although Meinhard slept under a tree, he still knew what was going on around him at all times. It was a skill he’d been forced to develop since the first day his mother had placed him among his brothers, freshly hatched and vulnerable. More than two centuries later, he still had the skill. So he knew the moment his cousin returned even before he sent the Blue off to get them something for their dinner.
And by the time Meinhard sat up, yawning and scratching his belly, his cousin had told him something that, twenty minutes later, still sounded ridiculous.
“You’re telling us she’s fucking spies?”
“Yes.”
Meinhard simply didn’t understand his cousin. Here before him was a beautiful dragoness, ripe for the plucking, and this idiot was believing tales about Princess Keita and spies. Honestly, what was
wrong
with him?
Although, when Meinhard thought about it, it was enjoyable to see his cousin acting a little less cold and standoffish, and a little more like a true Northlander. Possessive, erratic, and dangerously unstable.
To clarify what Ragnar was telling them, Meinhard asked, “Yes, you know for a fact that she’s fucking spies? Or yes, you
think
she’s fucking spies because you’re being kind of a horse’s dick?”
“What exactly are you having trouble believing about her?” Ragnar demanded. “The spying or the fucking?”
Meinhard looked at Vigholf, and together they replied, “The spying.”
Ragnar began rubbing his forehead, and Vigholf said, “Look, brother, we’re not saying the princess hasn’t bedded spies. If they were male, chances are she’s had her way with them. But giving them information? About her time in the Northlands? About her
mother
? No. I don’t see that.”
Ragnar got to his claws and began to pace. “What is this lofty pillar you two have her on?”
“We’re not as snobby as you,” Meinhard told him. “Don’t need proof of virginity for a female to be in my bed. Actually…I’d prefer she wasn’t. That’s a lot of responsibility.”
“And can be bor-
ing
,” Vigholf sang under his breath.
“This has nothing to do with her virginity or lack thereof,” Ragnar snapped.
“Then what is it? What is it about her that bothers you so much?”
Appearing more and more frustrated, Ragnar came out with, “What she could be getting herself involved in could be dangerous, and she’s not bright enough to see that.”
Meinhard shrugged. “Seems bright enough to me.”
Ragnar cleared his throat, and Meinhard and Vigholf again looked at each other.
“Oh, I see,” Meinhard reasoned. “She’s not as smart as
you
.”
“That is not what I’m—”
“Or your precious Lady Dagmar,” Vigholf added.
“We’re not talking about her either.”
“Why don’t you just get it over with?” Meinhard finally asked his cousin.
“Get what over with?” And the bastard had the nerve to look confused.
“Instead of accusing her of all manner of horse shit I’m not sure even you believe—just fuck her.”
Ragnar took a step back. “Pardon?”
“Fuck. Her. Fuck her like you’ve been in Uncle Adalwolf’s dungeons for the last century. Fuck her until your eyes roll to the back of your head and you can no longer walk. Fuck her and get it over with so we can get past this ox shit, dump these royals off, and get back to the Northlands where we belong.”
“And that’s your answer for how to handle this?”
“Handle what, cousin? Other than your overwhelming desire to fuck this female and that ungodsly itch you’ve got going on with your chest, I don’t see anything else to handle.”
“Well,
cousin
, thank you for that evaluation but I have no desire to—”
“What?” Vigholf cut in. “You have no desire to what? Fuck her? Because we all know you’re bloody gagging for it.”
“I am not!”
“You are such a liar. Does Mum know what a bloody liar you are?”
“And let’s face it, cousin, we all want to fuck her.” And of the three of them, only Ragnar’s eyes narrowed dangerously at Meinhard’s words.
Yes. Definitely possessive.
“Oh, really?” Ragnar asked.
“Whether it’s that human ass or that She-dragon tail, I’m drawn in. Both look delicious.”
“And who wouldn’t want both?” Vigholf suggested.
“Exactly. But see,” Meinhard continued, “we’re not the ones gettin’ in your way.
You’re
gettin’ in your way. You’re bloody over-thinking it.”
“Like you do with everything,” Vigholf agreed.
Ragnar’s jaw clenched. “I do not over-think anything.”
“You do, you are, and you’re letting her get away,” Meinhard argued.
“And you’re that sure she just has to have me?” When the cousins went out of their way
not
to look at each other, Ragnar quickly pointed a talon. “What? What aren’t you telling me?”
“We’re telling you,” Vigholf bit out between clenched fangs, “that if you want her, you can get her.”
“And how would you know that? And don’t lie to me.”
“The Blue was a little concerned about, uh…what were those words he used, Meinhard?”
“Uh…inter-territorial relations. I think.”
“What about them?”
“He didn’t want his sister damaging them.”
“And how would she do that?”
“Well, the lad says there may be a little”—Meinhard raised his front claw, wiggled his talons—“wager going on between the princess and that foreign friend of hers.”
“Apparently that’s something the two of them do when they’re bored,” Vigholf said.
“Wager? What kind of wager?”
“To see whether she could get you into bed or not,” Meinhard answered.
Vigholf shook his head at the expression on his brother’s face. “And look at ya. Pissed off. Over this.”
“Of course, I’m pissed off over this!”
“Why?” Meinhard asked. “You’ve got yourself a She-dragon of royal blood, laid out on a slab for you to fuck, and you’re pissed? Is there something wrong with you?”
“They’re wagering on my cock!” Ragnar exploded, front claws going high in the air as if he didn’t understand his kin at all. And he didn’t. As they didn’t understand him. Not when it came to this sort of thing.
“So? I’d let that dragoness wager on my cock daily.”
“If it were me,” Vigholf said, three talons clicking together to drive home his point, “I’d let her
win
that wager. I’d let her win it over and over and
over
again. Until neither of us could move or possibly breathe. That’s what I’d do.”
“
Because you’re both bloody worthless!
” Ragnar roared and marched off into the trees.
Meinhard glanced at Vigholf and asked, “Did he just yell at us?”
“I think he did. Several times.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever heard him yell about anything.”
“Good point.” Meinhard scratched his head. “But still, the loss of all those tightly controlled emotions…”
“It’s like I said.” And Vigholf yelled the rest at Ragnar’s retreating tail, “He’s bloody
gagging
for it!”
Meinhard only had a chance for a short laugh before he was dodging that boulder his own blood had chucked at his and Vigholf’s heads.
To Keita’s eternal surprise, the warlord didn’t complain at all when she and Ren eventually returned from the city. They’d taken their time walking back, planning out how they’d handle the next step in their search for Esyld. Yet the warlord said nothing. Nor did his brother or cousin. And, of course, all Éibhear cared about were the new books she’d brought with her from Gorlas’s store.
“Aw, Keita. You’re the best!” Éibhear said, grinning at her.
“Sorry about coming back so late,” Keita sweetly offered while removing her fur cape and silk gown so she could shift.
“Not a problem,” Ragnar grumbled back, shocking her.
“What?” Keita was sure she’d heard incorrectly.
“I said not a problem. We’ve already camped for the night.” Then he walked off, leaving her standing there, utterly confused. So Keita grabbed Ren’s hair and yanked him close.
“Ow!”
“What’s he up to?” she whispered.
“I don’t know. Probably nothing. And unleash me, female!”
She did. “What do you mean ‘probably nothing’?”
“Probably nothing.”
Now her eyes had narrowed on Ren. “What do you know?”
“In what sense?”
“In…what? Don’t toy with me, Ren of the Chosen.”
“You won’t like it.”
“I don’t care.”
He moved her farther away from the group. “He followed us into town this afternoon.”
“He did what?”
“Don’t worry. There was nothing for him to see, and if he asks, you were in a nice, clean,
boring
bookstore and I was getting that necklace evaluated.”
“But how dare he follow me?”
“Let it go, Keita.”
“Like one of the hells, I will.” And with that Keita followed Ragnar out to the nearby lake.
He sat on his haunches by the water’s edge, gazing across the placid surface. But he wasn’t alone.
She stood just behind him for rather a long time before his entire body tensed.
“Sneaking up on me, princess?” he asked.
“Didn’t realize I had,” she lied. As her mother had pointed out on more than one occasion when startled by Keita, “sneaky as a snake, that one.”
Keita moved up alongside him. “Are you aware there’s a black bird on your head?” she asked.
He turned his gaze to her.
“Yes,” he replied. “A crow. And I’m aware.”
“Did it mistake you for a statue?”
“No.”
She watched both dragon and bird a bit longer before asking, “Are you going to leave him up there?”
“He’s not causing me any bother.”
“But you have a bird on your head.”
“Yes. We’ve established this. Although I don’t know why that surprises you so. You seem to have your own entourage.”
When Keita frowned, he motioned behind her. Keita glanced at what nuzzled her tail. “Oh. Them.”
“Yes. Them. Do packs of wolves often follow you around?”
“Just the males.”
“Pardon?”
She smiled. “What can I say? Males love me. Every breed, every species. It’s not my fault. I do nothing to lure them, but they come anyway.”
Shaking his head a little, Ragnar coldly replied, “I see.”
When he said nothing else, Keita thought about pushing for more information but decided against it. She didn’t like the warlord’s mood. It made her uncomfortable. She didn’t like to feel uncomfortable. “Éibhear says dinner will be soon,” she offered, turning away from him to head back to camp.
“Tell me something, princess.”
Keita stopped.
“What were you doing in the Northlands when my father found you?”
The question threw Keita off because she hadn’t been expecting it. Two years ago she’d expected it, but not now. Not here. And what in all the hells did that have to do with him following her into Fenella?
Keita smiled, tossing her hair off her face. “Just being rebellious. You know how mothers and daughters can be.”
“There are too few daughters in the north for parents to afford alienating them, but I have some idea. Still,” he went on when she took another step away, “it was a risk. Wasn’t it? Being in enemy territory?”
This dragon was digging, and Keita was in no mood to give him what he wanted. So she did what she always did best when she wanted to throw someone off….
She became sneaky as a snake.
Ragnar didn’t know what appalled him more at the moment. That a royal would involve herself with spies—most likely out of pure boredom—or that she’d been wagering on his cock? Perhaps he was appalled by both. What kind of royal spent her time trying to seduce males for sport when she wasn’t visiting spy guilds in nearby cities? One not worthy of the loyalty and lust she seemed to have earned from Ragnar’s idiot brother and idiot cousin.
Keita’s claw slid across Ragnar’s chest, the talons scraping against his scales. Startled, Ragnar jumped a little, his bird visitor flitting off to the trees. Leaving Ragnar alone—with her.
“Princess—”
She brushed her head under his chin and nuzzled his neck. “What is it you want from me, Lord Ragnar?” she asked, her voice husky. “You ask so many questions, but I don’t know what you want. Or perhaps I’m merely being difficult. Perhaps I want you to drag the information from me.” She went up on the tips of her back talons, her snout brushing against his throat, her voice whispering in his ear. “Perhaps it would be better for both of us if you’d tie me up—and
make
me give you the answers. Or chains,” she purred, a little breathless. “Imagine what we could do with a few hours alone and chains.”
Ragnar had her by the shoulders, was already pulling her to his body, when he realized exactly what he was doing. What she’d
gotten
him to do. With some gods-damn nuzzling and the mere mention of chains!
Viper!
Ragnar shoved her away, and instead of being angry, she laughed. Her façade of sexual abandon slipping away to show the hardened dragoness beneath. “What’s wrong, warlord? Are chains not the way to go with you? Do you like the coquettish ingénue more? Or the struggling virgin who keeps saying ‘no, no, no’ but really means ‘yes, yes, yes!’?” Her laughter rang out across the lake.
“What I like, princess—”
“No, no. Don’t tell me. I’ll bet you like the whole regal majesty thing, yes? Tail up, head down, ready to take one for the future survival of one’s bloodline?”
She was irritating him, and he needed to leave. “As a matter of—”
“That seemed to be,” she cut in, her tail picking up a stone and tossing it into the lake, “what your father favored.” She sat back on her haunches and raised her front claws. “Not that I’d know personally. But is that it?” she asked. “Is that what you like?” She smirked, brown eyes sizing him up, purposely going for his weakest spot. “Are we having a ‘like father like son’ moment?”
And that’s when something inside Ragnar broke. Even though he knew on some level she was merely taunting him to distract him from the questions he’d been asking, he could not hold his anger at bay. Not over
this
insult.