The Dragon Who Loved Me

Rhian wished she had four legs and hooves, too. Then she could run with the big horses and play in the sun al day.

“Back to sleep, little ones, before Talaith has my head.” Ebba smiled at them and put them back to bed. Ebba was always so nice, even when she was angry.

Once she had them down, Ebba went back to the other side of the room and al her books. Ebba loved to read. Once she was gone, Tal y snapped, Now what are we going to do without our swords? What if we’re attacked again? You’re hopeless!

That made Rhian mad so she punched her cousin right in the arm, which only made Tal y rol her eyes and turn over, pul ing the blanket over her head. And Talan was already asleep. He could sleep through pretty much anything.

But now that no one was speaking to her anymore, Rhian was able to get some sleep too.

The commander of the mighty Horsemen of the Western Mountains discussed with his men their next plan of attack. He wanted this place pul ed down stone by stone in the name of their horse god. If the Southland queen ever came back here—and that was doubtful—he wanted to make sure she found nothing but rubble and the bodies of her friends and family.

He was debating with his men about a possible weakness on the south wal when a bright flash lit up behind him. He and his men lifted their heads and, slowly, turned.

The two assassins—two of his best—whom he’d sent in to find and kil Annwyl’s demon children only a few hours before, were now lying in a heap behind them.

His next in command walked over to the bodies and pul ed the smal -sized weapons out of the assassins’ bodies. He held them up. They were clearly swords rather than daggers, which led his next in command to ask, “They’ve got centaurs and dwarves in there?” Chapter 21

Rhona was impressed when Vigholf ended up eating the fruit rather than chucking it back at the horse.

Those two would never be friends, but what was the point of wasting food?

And, as she’d feared, Vigholf was one of those who was always hungry after f**king. Like feeding an empty pit.

He handed her a piece of bread, and Rhona was at least grateful he was good about sharing.

“We need to do something about our hair,” Vigholf suddenly announced. It seemed an odd thing to say with the pair of them sitting on the bedrol , naked.

“What?”

“We’ve got warrior braids in. Sovereign soldiers’ hair may be too short for that, but they’l notice it on others.” He had a point.

Rhona shoved the last bit of bread into her mouth and wiped one hand against the other. “I’l do yours first,” she said while she crawled around behind him. Resting on her knees, she grabbed a plait in her hand and began to unbraid it. As she finished more and more of them, she ran her hands through his hair, enjoying the way Vigholf relaxed against her each time she did.

It took some time, but it was a smarter way to go if they hoped to be even remotely ignored as they moved farther along the road and neared the Provinces.

“Your turn,” Vigholf said, pul ing her around and placing her in front of him.

To her surprise, he managed to unbraid her hair without any help. To be honest, she wasn’t sure his fingers were nimble enough, but she was learning his fingers were quite . . . adept.

She laughed a little, and Vigholf asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” Rhona rested her arms on Vigholf’s knees, but his legs were so long that when he bent them her arms were too high, so she stretched them out wide and placed them on either side of his hips. It felt kind of decadent, lounging around like this while in the lap of her once sworn enemy.

She liked it. She liked being a bit decadent.

Rhona patiently waited for the Northlander to finish with her hair, noticing how what he was doing felt more intimate than what he’d done to and with her body.

“Do you ever let your hair grow past your shoulders?” he asked.

“Not real y. When it’s too long, it’s too easy to turn my own hair against me during a close-in fight. But I can’t keep it as short as my Aunt Ghleanna’s, though. She has the face for that, I don’t.” She patted her cheeks. “No sharp cheekbones like her.”

“But you have dimples.”

“Quiet.”

“You do.”

“I know, but be quiet anyway.”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing against her throat as he picked up each braid. When he was done, he ran his hands through her hair and Rhona let out a deep sigh.

“You al right?” he asked while gently massaging her head. Something no one had ever done for her before.

“I’m what one might cal . . . perfect. At the moment.”

He kissed her throat. “Good.”

Rhona closed her eyes, already planning their day tomorrow. So much travel, in dangerous enemy territory, in search of a mad queen. Not exactly what she’d consider a fun time for anyone. And yet . . .

“I’m glad you came with me.” She looked at Vigholf over her shoulder. “It’s nice someone’s watching my back for a change.”

“I do have your back. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She reached up, slid her hand into his hair, and gripped the strands tight. She pul ed him closer and said, “Good. But don’t get in my way.”

“With you constantly trying to impale me with that bloody spear? Not a chance.” She grinned and kissed him hard.

Aye. She was very glad he’d come with her.

Rhona’s kiss was hard and lusty, surprising him because Vigholf had always wondered if she’d be as military-like in bed as she was in battle.