Last Dragon Standing

After several minutes, the princess leaned back.

“It’s definitely broken. But I can heal it quick enough if you don’t mind staying human for a while. Their bones are easier to heal than ours, I find, and healing the one usually affects the other.”

“That’s fine,” Ragnar answered for Meinhard. “We’ll be staying for a bit.”

“Even now?” Vigholf asked, his hand constantly straying to where his hair now rested by his ears.

“Yes, brother. Even now.”

Morfyd stood. She was taller than her sister, but leaner, even under those robes. “I am sorry about all this. I apologize for my brother’s mate.

She’s quite cautious these days. But I can assure you all the best accommodations and anything you may need.”

“None of that’s necessary, but thank you, princess.”

“Morfyd. Please. I’ve always felt that once you’ve been unfairly attacked by one’s family, a more casual etiquette should come into play.” She smiled, and Ragnar returned it. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

“Good.” She motioned to several guards. “These men will take you to your rooms.”

“I can walk,” Meinhard said, pushing himself to his one good foot.

“I’d prefer you not try.”

“A Northland dragon is only carried when he’s dead, my lady.”

“Well that’s”—Morfyd cleared her throat—“a rather hopeful ideal.” Ragnar saw the Blue coming down the road—alone. They’d left him and Keita speaking to some locals while Ragnar and Meinhard searched for a place to let their cousin rest his leg. But only the Blue returned.

“Is something wrong?” Morfyd asked.

“Do you know where your sister is?”

“Knowing Keita? In the guards’ barracks, picking up where she left off perhaps?” The princess blinked and took a step back. “I’m…I’m only joking.”

Ragnar realized he must be scowling, and he worked to control it.

“Morfyd!”

The dragoness spun away from Ragnar. “Éibhear!” She lifted her robes and ran toward her brother, throwing herself into his arms.

“The way these women act toward him,” Vigholf complained,

“explains so much about this pup.”

“Leave him alone,” Meinhard said through clenched teeth.

Vigholf walked over to their cousin and put Meinhard’s arm around his shoulder. “Lean on me.” When it looked as if Meinhard would throw that stupid Code in his face, Vigholf added, “It’ll make us look good to the pretty She-dragon with the blue eyes. You’ll look needy and I will look giving.”

“I hear she’s taken,” Ragnar tossed in.

“By a human,” Vigholf said before both he and Meinhard snorted in unison.

Laughing now, Ragnar turned from his cousin and brother, only to spot something off in the distance. Something that, although he’d never seen it before, he still recognized from a long-ago discussion with a warlord’s very reasonable daughter.

“You two go in. I’ll meet you.”

“Go in? Without you?” Meinhard sounded terrified that he’d be forced to act as the Lightnings’ representative. And considering how poorly he did in those situations, it was probably best he didn’t act as representative for anyone.

“Don’t worry. I won’t be long. You two can stay out of trouble for five minutes, can’t you?”

Vigholf pointed at his head. “You look at the two of us and you have the nerve to ask that?”

Ragnar walked away from his kin and headed into the thick trees surrounding the well-used road. Although he could see the house easily from the gates, the walk took him several minutes. Several minutes that allowed him to worry.

Had she been dismissed out here? Already tossed aside by that whorish dragon she was now mated to? No longer of use to the Mad Queen of Garbhán Isle, so they’d banished her to live alone in the woods? Like some useless old spinster? Had he led her to the wrong path?

The fear that Ragnar had been wrong, once again, in less than a week, nearly choked him as he approached the small house. It reminded him of Esyld’s little house, although there was no herb or vegetable garden. Just flowers and bushes that lined the walk and surrounded the house itself. Not only that, but there was Magick here. Strong protection Magick that would keep most beings out.

Most beings but him.

With a wave of his hand against the unseen boundaries, he tore a hole that was large enough for his human form to walk through and stepped onto the stone path leading to the front door.

He walked up to the entrance and worked hard to keep control of his growing concern. If they’d tossed her aside, he’d fix it. He’d take her from here. Take her to a place where her mind and skills could and would be truly appreciated. He’d not let her end up as his mother had until his father’s death. That would not be the life for her. No matter what he had to do to make it happen, Ragnar would fix this.

Resolved, he knocked once on the door before opening it, not even thinking he should wait to be told to enter. He stepped into the warm interior, a pit fire built into the wall blazing brightly and fresh tea sitting ready to be poured on the small dining table. With a single glance, he took in the one-room home with its tiny kitchen, dining table, large bed, and books and papers piled high in nearly every corner. Except for the corner that held the desk. The sound of a quill quickly and efficiently scratching against paper made him smile and the low “woof” of warning from the dog sitting beside small, bare human feet had Ragnar raising his hand to silence the large beast.