Last Dragon Standing

“It was never like that.”

“Good. When I’ve discovered that sort of thing in the past, it was very upsetting.”

“I can well imagine. What did you do?”

“Told my father.” She picked a flower that had managed to bloom before the winter set in. “And he killed them.” Ragnar’s head fell forward, and he let out a breath. “Is that the answer your kin have to everything?”

“Yes.”

He studied her for a long moment. “Is that why you’re an assassin?” Insulted, “I am not an assassin. I am a Protector of the Throne. And have been since I was thirteen winters.”

“You couldn’t even fly when you were thirteen winters.”

“All right, fine. If you’re going to be literal. I knew I was going to be a Protector of the Throne. I didn’t actually pledge myself until years later.

There. Happy?” Ragnar began to answer, but she cut him off because she felt the need to make something clear. “But I am not an assassin.” She brought the flower to her nose, sniffed it. “That would be Talaith.”

“And who’s Talaith?”

“My brother Briec’s mate. She’s from Alsandair.” Ragnar visibly winced. “Alsandair? Does she have a daughter? Tall girl?”

“Aye. You’ve met them?”

“I think so.” He scratched his jaw, and Keita noticed for the first time the scar he had on it. It was long but so low on his jaw, it wasn’t immediately obvious. “They killed my father.”

“Huh…dinner tonight might be awkward.”

“Not really. As you well know, he deserved it. But best not to mention it to my kin.”

“I’m glad you told me. Izzy will be here in a few days, and I’ll need to get to her before she says something completely inappropriate to Vigholf and Meinhard. She won’t mean to, of course. But it won’t matter.”

“So I’ll still be here in a few days?”

“I’m guessing.”

He leaned forward a bit, resting his cheek on his knees. “Tell me what you really think about all this with your mother.”

“I think I truly appreciate your not mentioning that necklace we found.”

“Right now your mother is unsure of Esyld’s loyalty. I sensed you were right, though, and her opinion would have changed quickly if I had told her about it.” He reached over and took one of her hands in his. “Tell me about your people and the Irons.”

She took in a breath. “During my ancestors’ time, the Iron dragons were just Southland dragons. They had wings and talons and fangs and breathed fire just like the rest of us. But they always wanted more. They began to segregate themselves from the others, and there were rumors of inbreeding in order to keep their blood lines ‘clean,’ was the word I heard used. Unlike the rest of the Southland dragons, their scales were all one color. The color of iron. Even you Northlanders, you’re all varying shades of purple, but the Irons were just one shade. And any that deviated, I’d heard, were destroyed at birth. They change their horns too. Use some contraption when their offspring hatch to curl their horns around their heads. They were finally forced out by my great grandmother, who had no tolerance for that sort of bizarre behavior, and they moved into the west. When my mother was young, the Irons attacked only once. My grandfather and his troops met them before they even cleared the Aricia Mountains. We won the day, of course, but my grandfather was captured and taken back to the Quintilian Provinces—the capital of the Sovereigns now, but then it was still just a lone province. He was tortured for days, they said. Until his execution.” Keita turned her hand over in his, pressed her thumb against the back of his hand.

“Although we tell others he was killed in battle. Only the family knows the truth about his death.”

“And that truth will never leave me.”

She believed him and gave him a small smile. “My mother loved her father dearly. He protected her from her mother, and his death was a great loss to her.”

“Do you really think she only wants revenge? That she’d instigate a war with the Irons just for that reason?”

“My kin hold grudges like the ocean holds water. Forever, until a giant wave slams into the shore and devastates absolutely everything.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s wrong about this, Keita. You can’t say you don’t feel something barreling down on us.”

“I dreamed…”

“You dreamed…what?”

Keita shook her head. Was she really going to sit here and tell Ragnar about ridiculous dreams involving demon horses? What exactly did that have to do with the Irons anyway? “Forget it. But you’re right. I do feel something coming. But I also know my mother embraces war. The Elders have much less power when there’s a war.”

“And Esyld?”

“If my mother can use Esyld to get her war, she will—but I want to stop this before it goes that far. I need to protect the throne.” Ragnar sat up. “Gods, tell me you don’t think the Irons can be reasoned with.”

“I won’t know that until I meet with them.”

“Meet with them?”

“Calm down. I don’t mean now.”

“You better not mean ever.”

“I can’t promise that. If I get the opportunity—”

“Have you lost your mind?”