The Dragon Who Loved Me

“What the holy hells—”

Rhona reached out and caught hold of their attacker, lifting it in the air, and holding it up so the Lightning could see it.

“It seems my cousin’s offspring takes after his Great-Grandfather Ailean. He liked the surprise attack as wel , according to me mum.” The boy, seeing he was wel and truly caught, burst into dramatic tears and Rhona sighed. “And, sadly, he takes after his Uncle Gwenvael. This is Talan,” she reminded Vigholf. “Fearghus and Annwyl’s son who we’ve rushed here to protect.”

“I remember. But where’s the girl? Talwyn?” Vigholf demanded, his gaze searching, an air of anxiety rippling around him. “Where there’s the boy, there’s his sister.”

Rhona shook the boy she stil held. “Where is she, little snake?”

He wailed louder and Rhona glanced up at the Kyvich to make sure they weren’t taking any of this seriously. And although they watched her and Vigholf closely, they made no moves to step in. Good. They knew their place. They may be protectors, but Rhona was family.

“For the love of the gods,” a voice said from behind them, “stop the wailing.” Rhona smiled and faced the centaur. “Hel o, Ebba. How’s the nanny business going for you?”

“I won’t say they’re unmanageable,” the pretty centaur told them as they slowly made their way back toward the castle. “But they are the reason I’m paid so wel .” She smiled. “I’ve already bought land near the ocean. Lovely view.” She walked a few more feet and stopped next to a tree with a large hole beside the base.

An empty hole.

“Uh-oh.”

Vigholf didn’t like the sound of that at al . “Uh-oh?”

“I left Talwyn here.”

“You left a child buried in the ground?” Rhona demanded.

“She was just buried up to her neck. Besides, I didn’t put her in there. He did.” The centaur pointed at the boy. “Didn’t you, little monster?” Stil held by the back of his trousers by Rhona, Talan grinned.

“Of course,” Ebba observed. “She’s loose now. And she’l be coming for you, little monster.” The boy’s grin faded.

“Are you staying long, Rhona?” Ebba asked as they continued heading to the castle.

“No. I’m leaving in the morning. Back to the Val ey.”

“Good. The sooner this war ends, the sooner these little monsters get their parents back.” She lovingly smiled at the boy. “And I can final y take a bloody holiday.”

Rhona had known Ebba for years. She’d met her mother, Bríghid, when she’d taken over the care of Keita for that short time. It was strange how the much smal er centaurs made such good caregivers for young dragons, though their powers were legendary and they tolerated no fools.

Although Rhona had never seen it, she’d heard that an army of centaurs could devastate kingdoms when pushed too far. Anyone’s kingdom. The problem, though, was to get centaurs as a group to agree on anything. So there weren’t many times that they chal enged any kingdoms but their own.

They neared the steps that would lead into the Great Hal , and Rhona glanced around and said, “Al this . . . preparation?”

“Our Battle Lord is quite cautious,” Ebba explained, speaking of Dagmar. “The local merchants have al been moved to nearby towns and only those who live here, are invited by those who live here, or are part of the Queen’s army are al owed entry. Everyone takes the children’s safety very seriously.” They walked up the stairs to the castle’s Great Hal . “Although I don’t know why.” Rhona stopped right in the doorway. “Why would you say that?”

Ebba had only a chance to raise a brow before the boy was ripped from Rhona’s hand by his dirt-covered sister. She attacked silently, only growling once the pair had hit the floor in a flurry of fists and sibling rage.

The girl, glaring like Rhona’s Uncle Bercelak, got her brother on his back and head-butted him. Twice.

“Awww,” Rhona observed, feeling nostalgic. “Just like our Aunt Ghleanna.”

“I need to eat,” Vigholf announced, apparently not feeling nostalgic at al .

“He constantly needs to be fed,” Rhona complained, watching her young cousins rol ing across the floor.

“Should I starve instead?”

“Yes.” She watched the twins a bit longer. “Should we separate them?”

Ebba pul ed a red dress over her now-human form. “If you’d like.”

Rhona reached down and took hold of the siblings, yanking them apart. It didn’t stop them from trying to rip each other into shreds, though. “Are they like this al the time?”

“Only when they’re not torturing others.”

“Do they speak?” Rhona had yet to hear anything from the pair but snarling, snapping, and growling. It was disconcerting.

“Only to each other and only in whispers.” Ebba brushed her long, reddish brown hair from her face. “We try not to be terrified by that.”

“I need to eat,” Vigholf said again.

Rhona faced him, shaking the snarling children for emphasis. “Can you not see we’re talking?”

“About babysitting.” And he grinned at her when he said it. “Shocking.”

Her eyes narrowed, daring him to cal her that blasted nickname.

There were screams from the courtyard and panicked humans running. “How nice.” Ebba took the children from Rhona’s hands. “Queen Rhiannon’s here.”