Last Dragon Standing
“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.”