Last Dragon Standing

Now you have the bloody truth!”

Keita looked past Annwyl’s brawny shoulders to Ragnar. She loved the adorably confused expression he wore at the moment. His brother and cousin equally lost. Finally he looked at her and mouthed, Training?

Keita quickly pressed her fingers to her lips to hold in the laughter.

“You’ve been training with him all this time,” her eldest brother demanded of his mate, “and you never told me? ”

“Because I knew you’d get upset!”

Keita tugged on her sister’s sleeve. “Can this day get stranger?” she asked.

Morfyd raised a finger. “It’s about to get stranger in three seconds.”

“How do you—”

Keita abruptly stopped talking, the air in the room briefly sucked out then rushing back in as Ren of the Chosen Dynasty’s naked body sprawled in the middle of the floor.

Gwenvael tapped his niece’s arm. “That Ren always knows how to make an entrance.”

Ragnar did not, never would, and wasn’t sure he ever wanted to understand the Southland royals. That being said, he’d come to find them damn amusing, as had his brother and cousin.

Meinhard helped up the Eastlander and handed him some leggings, blocking the view from Izzy, who was trying to see around him for a better look—much to Éibhear’s growing annoyance.

“What news do you have, Ren?” Gwenvael asked while Ren pulled the leggings on.

Meinhard stepped back, and the now-dressed Ren placed his hands on his hips. “It’s as we feared. Thracius readies his Dragonwarriors and his human soldiers for a two-pronged attack on Dark Plains. Bringing his Dragonwarriors down through the Northlands.” Ren focused on Ragnar.

“With the help of your cousin Styrbjörn.”

“I’m not surprised it’s him,” Meinhard remarked.

“It’s a little thing,” Ragnar said, moving to Keita’s side.

Vigholf crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll enjoy opening him up from bowel to throat.”

“And he’ll be sending Laudaricus through the Western Mountains?” Annwyl asked.

Ren nodded. “From what I saw, Annwyl, that human has hundreds of legions at his command. But before any of that happens, Thracius hopes to get Keita on the throne.”

Keita’s sudden burst of laughter startled everyone in the room, and she quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

Ragnar leaned down a bit and studied her. “What are you thinking?”

“According to everyone, I don’t think.”

He straightened up, understanding her far too well these days. “You can bloody well forget that idea!”

Keita looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware I’d entered a new plane of existence where I take someone’s orders other than my own!”

“Yell at me all you want, princess, you’re not doing it.”

“You are calling me prince-ass!”

“She’s not doing what?” Briec asked.

Keita raised her hands to calm everyone, but Ragnar would not be calm about this and let her wiggle her way through.

“It’s actually quite perfect,” she reasoned.

“You’ve lost your bloody mind.”

“Elestren has already done the work for me,” Keita explained. “My face is battered and bruised, I have these awful lacerations that may take entire weeks to heal, and bruises around my ribs. It’s perfect!”

“It’s insane.” And to Ragnar’s shock, that came from Ren. “You can’t really be considering going into Quintilian Province.”

“If I go there now, looking like this, Thracius will gladly take me in.”

“Then what?”

“Then I’ll take care of it.”

“I’m sure you will. But then you’ll be trapped in the Provinces with his very pissed-off kin.”

“I’ve been in worse situations.”

“No, you haven’t, Keita.” Holding her sleeping grandchild, Queen Rhiannon walked around to face her daughter. “I know what the Sovereigns can do, and I’ve already lost a father to them—I’ll not lose a daughter.”

“Mum—”

“No.” And her voice was calm, severely controlled. The teasing, the humor, the nicknames all gone in this moment. “You may protect the throne, daughter, but I rule. You will not go into the Provinces.” Frustrated, but most likely realizing there was no way around her mother for the moment, Keita relaxed back in her chair.

“Any chance you found out,” Ragnar asked Ren, “what or who Styrbjörn escorted to the Southland borders from his territories?”

“I did, actually,” Ren said. “And it was something rather surprising, although not nearly as surprising as what I discovered right after that.”

“Which was?” Ragnar asked.

Ren glanced around the room. “Esyld. I think I found Esyld.” And, with sorrowful eyes, he looked at Keita. “And she’s not in the Provinces.” Keita frowned. “Then where the hells is she?”

Chapter Thirty-Five

The gate to Castle Moor slowly opened, and Athol watched Keita the Viper limp toward him.

He didn’t trust her, but he was curious to see why she was back. She came alone this time, no strange dragon monks following her.

“My Lady Keita.”