The Dragon Who Loved Me

“Kidnapped?” Talaith asked.

“No. Just gone. Along with Izzy and Branwen.”

Talaith’s eyes grew wide in panic at the mention of her eldest daughter. “That crazed bitch took Izzy?” Rhiannon pursed her lips. “Ooops. Bercelak warned me not to tel you that part.”

“But you did! You did tel me!”

“Now you’re yel ing at me?”

Dagmar stood. “Everyone stop. Right now.” She motioned to Ásta. “Commander, if you would excuse us.” Trying to shake off whatever Rhiannon had done to her, Ásta got to her feet and walked to the door.

“And could you take the children back to Ebba please?”

The children jumped down from their grandmother and charged out of the room, Ásta fol owing and closing the door behind her while Keita helped Ren into a chair.

Once al had calmed down, Dagmar looked to the She-dragon queen in human form. “Now, my liege. Perhaps you could explain what the battle-fuck is going on.”

Rhona kissed her father good-bye and left him at the base of the large hil he cal ed home. He didn’t like staying at Devenal t Mountain, had no desire to reside by the lake with the Cadwaladr Clan, and he didn’t like sleeping in a bed like a human. So he found and dug out his own place in a hil no more than ten miles or so from the Garbhán Isle gates and was as happy as any dragon could be. Her father was an uncomplicated male, easily pleased but just as easily annoyed. And, like most of his volcano-loving kind, he was even more solitary than the Fire Breathers.

Walking through the nearby town, desperate to get to sleep, she passed a pub. It sounded as if everyone inside was having quite a good time, but she kept walking. She wanted to be up early tomorrow and on her way before the two suns were high in the sky.

And Rhona knew what would happen if she went into that pub. Wel , what would happen besides the drinking.

The pub door slammed open and Rhona picked up her step, hoping to get past before she was—

“Rhona!”

Strong hands grabbed hold of her and hauled her into the pub. Her aunts and uncles were nowhere to be seen, but the majority of her cousins, mostly the females, were in attendance.

Rhona was forced into a chair and a pint of ale shoved into her hand.

“Drink!” one cousin cheered. “And tel us al about the violence at the front!”

“Nothing happens here,” another cousin complained. “For five years, no one’s done anything and Mum won’t let me go to the Val ey. ‘You’re needed here,’ she says. Here for what? Watching those demon spawn twins grow tal er and meaner every day?” She leaned in and drunkenly whispered—which was real y screaming—“And by the gods those two are so bloody mean!”

“Any new scars?” another asked.

“That Lightning you came in with . . . he’s a big buck. You f**k him yet? If you didn’t, are you going to? ’Cause ... you know.” Rhona lifted her ale to her lips and drank it al in one gulp. Then she motioned to the barmaid and demanded another, her cousins cheering when she did.

Vigholf escorted his mother to the front steps outside the Great Hal . They’d had dinner in his room, had gone for a walk around the grounds, and during al that had talked for hours. Tonight she’d stay in the castle so they could enjoy breakfast together in the morning before he left.

With so many sons, Davon always managed to show each of them how much they were loved. Although they’d al known she had a special place in her heart for Ragnar. But Vigholf had understood that. Since Ragnar had hatched, their father had made it his business to crush Ragnar’s soul rather than harness the dragon’s power. Perhaps because Olgeir had known from the beginning that of al his offspring, Ragnar would be the one to bring him down.

“I’m so glad we had this time together,” Davon told him before they went up the stairs.

“Me too. But this should al be over soon enough.” Vigholf glanced down at his feet before asking the question that had been bothering him and his brothers. “And once this is over . . . wil you come home?”

Davon blinked wide blue eyes. “Of course! Why would you think any different?”

He shrugged. “You weren’t with the Horde of your own free wil , Mum. I know that. So I can understand if you’d rather not come back.”

“But I wil . Because my sons are there. My grandsons. And you, your brothers—you’ve made it different now.”

“It’s real y been Ragnar.”

“He wouldn’t have been able to do any of it without you and your brothers and Meinhard. And I’ve never hated the Northlands. I love it there. I merely hated your father—and he’s dead now.” Gods. She sounded so . . . perky.

“If you’re sure.”

“Of course I am. Now”—she took his hands into hers—“stop worrying about me. I’m perfectly safe here. I just want you to go back and help your brother win against those awful Irons.”

“I wil , Mum. Promise.”

“Good. So . . .” His mother looked off and frowned.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think your weak little friend could use some help.”

Vigholf looked across the courtyard, and there was Rhona, leading her female kin toward the side door that would lead them back to the nearby lake. It wasn’t an easy task, though, when She-dragons kept breaking off from the group and trying to make a run for it.