Last Dragon Standing
Page 55

Ragnar ignored the queen’s words and said, “This doesn’t have to get nasty, Your Majesty. I’m sure it wouldn’t hurt to stay for a little while.”
“I don’t—”
Silencing Keita with one glare, he reminded her, “Your kin have missed you. I’m sure they’d like to spend time with you before you head back out.”
“Och! Fine,” Keita told him. Then she sneered at their mother and stormed off.
Ragnar briefly bowed his head to the queen and followed after Éibhear’s sister.
“Bitch,” his mother growled, before she returned to her chamber.
“Go with your sister,” his father said.
“But Dad—”
“Did you learn nothing in the north about taking orders? Don’t argue with me. Just go.”
“All right.” Éibhear followed his sister, glancing back to see his father head up to the queen’s chamber. Maybe his dad would ease things. Keita had never gotten along with their mother, but it was time to put all that behind them, wasn’t it?
Rhiannon sat inside her private chamber, her mind turning.
“Well?” Bercelak asked, his claw taking hers. “Is it done?”
“It is.”
“Are you sure about this, Rhiannon?”
“No. She’s impulsive. Hot headed. I’ve always said so.” She glared at him. “What are you grinning at?”
“Nothing. Just the way you describe Keita sounds like someone else I know.”
Perplexed, Rhiannon asked, “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter. But our Keita, she’s smart and well trained. She’s one of the best agents we have, and you know that.”
“Of course I know that. But this will be a dangerous game for her to play. Especially where your kin are concerned.”
“I could warn them—”
“No. Rumors will spread. They all talk too much, Bercelak. We’ll just have to let it play out. Keep it from them as you’ve kept it from me all these years.”
“You found out anyway.”
“Not found out—knew. There’s a difference.” She sighed. “Besides, it’s time for her to be truly tested.”
“You keep saying that.”
“I do.”
“But why? It clearly has you worried.”
“It must be her,” she said, feeling suddenly exhausted. “She needs to do this. She needs to meet this challenge.”
“Why, Rhiannon? Why Keita?”
Rhiannon stood and headed to her bedchamber. “Because,” she said simply, “one day she will be queen.” With that, Rhiannon stepped out of the throne room, but went back when she realized Bercelak was not behind her. When she saw the expression on his face, she rolled her eyes and added, “I don’t mean now, low born. I’m talking years down the line.”
Bercelak let out a breath. “I thought you meant…and with the others a head of her…and her penchant for poisons…gods-dammit, Rhiannon! You scared the life from me! ”
Realizing that Bercelak thought she’d seen her time—and apparently the times of their offspring—ending much sooner than she had any intention of tolerating, Rhiannon began laughing and couldn’t stop. Even when he caught hold of her and lifted her up, carrying her back to their bedchamber, snarling the entire time, she didn’t stop laughing.
Chapter Sixteen
The trip from Devenallt Mountain took them straight down to Dark Plains below. They landed about two miles away from Garbhán Isle, in the surrounding forests. What was strange, though, to Vigholf was that for the entire trip, Ragnar, Keita, and that foreigner argued. In hushed whispers, but it was arguing. Something that Vigholf rarely saw his brother do. Ragnar didn’t believe in arguing. He gave his orders, and he expected them to be carried out. If they weren’t, he gave the task to someone else, and he forgot the existence of the one who’d failed him. It may not sound like much, but it was enough. His brother’s coldness rivaled the icy mountaintops of their home.
Yet here Ragnar was. Arguing. First with Princess Keita alone. Then the foreigner joined in. They never raised their voices. Not like Vigholf and Meinhard were known to do, but still. It was an argument.
Vigholf shifted to human, put on his clothes, and watched the three continue to argue. He didn’t know what they were talking about, and he didn’t care. He was ready to go home. This place with all its greens and heat.
Gods, it was warm here even though the Southlands were nearing their winter, the princess pulling out a fur to cover her long-sleeved gown illustrating the chill that at least she felt. Did they even have snow in this country?
Not that it mattered. Once his brother stopped arguing, they’d take the pup and the princess to their kin and they’d be on their way.
“What’s going on?” Meinhard asked him.
“I have no idea.”
“We shouldn’t let them argue,” the pup said. He was always worried about everyone being upset, this one. He prided himself on all the arguments he stopped. Although it wasn’t his soothing words that halted fights among Vigholf’s kin. It was his size. Lightnings were well known for their size, although they had a tendency to be slower than the trimmer Fire Breathers.
But the pup, he had the size of any Northlander, but the speed of his fire-breathing kin. Shame he wasn’t much of a fighter. Ragnar had already written him off and didn’t want him sent back to the Northlands anytime soon. Although Meinhard was quietly working to change that. He’d taken to the oversized hatchling, though Vigholf simply didn’t know why.