Last Dragon Standing
Page 99
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“She works for me, and I pay her well,” another voice said from the shadows. “She’ll be back.”
Dagmar Reinholdt’s dog, Canute, stepped into the light, and Keita backed into Ragnar. “Good gods! The dog speaks.” Ragnar only had a moment to cross his eyes before Dagmar stepped in behind her dog. Keita let out a breath. “Thank the gods that was you, sister. What a relief. Can you think of anything stranger than a dog being able to speak?” Dagmar’s eyes studied the three dragons in human form standing before her and, eventually, shook her head. “No, Princess Keita. I can’t think of anything remotely stranger than that.” Keita grinned. “There’s that sarcasm again.”
“Me? Sarcastic? Never.” And the words couldn’t have been spoken with a flatter inflection if the woman had been dead. With her pale hands clasped together and resting against the skirt of her gown, the warlord’s daughter appeared almost…virginal. A young spinster who’d joined one of those nunneries. But for her eyes. For Keita, those cold, missed-nothing eyes were the giveaway.
Which added up to one thing for Keita the Viper—she was truly beginning to enjoy her brother’s choice of mate! Dagmar Reinholdt was so blatantly ruthless and mean, so direct with it that once Keita bothered to look past all that grey…Honestly, how could she not adore the human female?
“Why are you here, princess?” Dagmar asked.
“I live here,” Keita explained. “These are the lands of my people.”
“Is that the game we’re going to play?”
“I do love games.”
“Keita,” her brother chastised.
“Oh, fine. I recognized the girl and wanted to see who she was working for. Imagine my surprise to find out it was you two….” She let her grin grow wider, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the warlord’s daughter and Gwenvael. “I had no idea you two enjoyed those kinds of games. Very nice choice, brother.”
“Isn’t Dagmar wild? You should see her when she’s training her dogs!”
“Stop it. Both of you.”
Keita placed her hand on Dagmar’s arm. “There’s no shame in hiring a whore to satisfy your needs, Lady Dagmar. I’d do the same if I couldn’t decide which I preferred more, a c**k or a puss—”
“You and I both know Dana is no whore.”
“Perhaps murderess is more apt a title?”
“What does that make you then?” Ragnar asked Keita.
“Loyal to my people. Now shut up.”
“Was it your loyalty that led you to Lord Bampour’s room that morning?” Dagmar asked.
“I was merely concerned for poor Lord Bampour’s health. He wasn’t well at all at our dinner.”
Dagmar’s lips twitched into what could almost be called a smile.
“She’s a much better liar than you, Defiler.” Gasping in practiced horror, Keita pressed her hands against her chest.
“Are you suggesting I’m lying, Lady Dagmar?”
“I’m suggesting you wouldn’t bother using truth if it promised to erect a temple in your honor.”
Keita held up one finger, waved it. “I beg to differ on that.” She shrugged at Ragnar. “I’ve always wanted a temple.”
“Where males from all across the land could come and worship you!” Gwenvael cheered.
“Yes! And they’d have to bring me gifts because I would be a god.” She sighed. “I love gifts.”
Dagmar gazed over Keita’s shoulder at Ragnar. “Have you been putting up with this for the last few days?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “I’ve been enjoying it, too…. That’s not a good thing, is it?”
“Don’t worry,” Dagmar told him. “It only hurts a little in the beginning.”
Ren of the Chosen Dynasty stepped into the Dragon Queen’s chamber. She smiled at him, showing many rows of fangs, and gestured him over with a wave of her claw.
“Hello, my friend.”
He rose up on his hind legs, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “My queen.”
“Oh, for the sake of the gods, Ren. Who’s that performance for?” Ren sat back on his haunches, tossed the fur that fell into his eyes. “I like to err on the side of etiquette, Rhiannon.” She laughed and waved her claw again. This time, it released a collar she wore, the chain that was linked to it, attached to a wall. It was a game the queen and her consort played. A game Ren never questioned. Mostly because it was none of his business, but also because what went on between the pair was something pure and white hot. And, to Ren’s kind, explained how things had changed so much among the Southland dragons of the west.
Only a love like that of Rhiannon and Bercelak could transform everything the dragons of this land had known.
“You summoned me?”
“I did.” She sat down and patted a spot next to her on the slab of rock.
Of course, this was not her official throne. That was in another cavern that had room enough for the Elders. Nor was this her bedchamber. It was, simply, the Queen’s Chamber, where many world-altering decisions often took place.
Ren sat down, and the queen said, “I want to thank you for watching out for my Keita. Being good at what she does makes her a target, and knowing you’ve often supported her has brought me great comfort.”
“Excuse my boldness, but I didn’t think you gave two shits what your whore daughter did. Or were those not the exact words you said to her sixty-eight years ago—correct?”
Dagmar Reinholdt’s dog, Canute, stepped into the light, and Keita backed into Ragnar. “Good gods! The dog speaks.” Ragnar only had a moment to cross his eyes before Dagmar stepped in behind her dog. Keita let out a breath. “Thank the gods that was you, sister. What a relief. Can you think of anything stranger than a dog being able to speak?” Dagmar’s eyes studied the three dragons in human form standing before her and, eventually, shook her head. “No, Princess Keita. I can’t think of anything remotely stranger than that.” Keita grinned. “There’s that sarcasm again.”
“Me? Sarcastic? Never.” And the words couldn’t have been spoken with a flatter inflection if the woman had been dead. With her pale hands clasped together and resting against the skirt of her gown, the warlord’s daughter appeared almost…virginal. A young spinster who’d joined one of those nunneries. But for her eyes. For Keita, those cold, missed-nothing eyes were the giveaway.
Which added up to one thing for Keita the Viper—she was truly beginning to enjoy her brother’s choice of mate! Dagmar Reinholdt was so blatantly ruthless and mean, so direct with it that once Keita bothered to look past all that grey…Honestly, how could she not adore the human female?
“Why are you here, princess?” Dagmar asked.
“I live here,” Keita explained. “These are the lands of my people.”
“Is that the game we’re going to play?”
“I do love games.”
“Keita,” her brother chastised.
“Oh, fine. I recognized the girl and wanted to see who she was working for. Imagine my surprise to find out it was you two….” She let her grin grow wider, her gaze bouncing back and forth between the warlord’s daughter and Gwenvael. “I had no idea you two enjoyed those kinds of games. Very nice choice, brother.”
“Isn’t Dagmar wild? You should see her when she’s training her dogs!”
“Stop it. Both of you.”
Keita placed her hand on Dagmar’s arm. “There’s no shame in hiring a whore to satisfy your needs, Lady Dagmar. I’d do the same if I couldn’t decide which I preferred more, a c**k or a puss—”
“You and I both know Dana is no whore.”
“Perhaps murderess is more apt a title?”
“What does that make you then?” Ragnar asked Keita.
“Loyal to my people. Now shut up.”
“Was it your loyalty that led you to Lord Bampour’s room that morning?” Dagmar asked.
“I was merely concerned for poor Lord Bampour’s health. He wasn’t well at all at our dinner.”
Dagmar’s lips twitched into what could almost be called a smile.
“She’s a much better liar than you, Defiler.” Gasping in practiced horror, Keita pressed her hands against her chest.
“Are you suggesting I’m lying, Lady Dagmar?”
“I’m suggesting you wouldn’t bother using truth if it promised to erect a temple in your honor.”
Keita held up one finger, waved it. “I beg to differ on that.” She shrugged at Ragnar. “I’ve always wanted a temple.”
“Where males from all across the land could come and worship you!” Gwenvael cheered.
“Yes! And they’d have to bring me gifts because I would be a god.” She sighed. “I love gifts.”
Dagmar gazed over Keita’s shoulder at Ragnar. “Have you been putting up with this for the last few days?”
“Yes.” He frowned. “I’ve been enjoying it, too…. That’s not a good thing, is it?”
“Don’t worry,” Dagmar told him. “It only hurts a little in the beginning.”
Ren of the Chosen Dynasty stepped into the Dragon Queen’s chamber. She smiled at him, showing many rows of fangs, and gestured him over with a wave of her claw.
“Hello, my friend.”
He rose up on his hind legs, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “My queen.”
“Oh, for the sake of the gods, Ren. Who’s that performance for?” Ren sat back on his haunches, tossed the fur that fell into his eyes. “I like to err on the side of etiquette, Rhiannon.” She laughed and waved her claw again. This time, it released a collar she wore, the chain that was linked to it, attached to a wall. It was a game the queen and her consort played. A game Ren never questioned. Mostly because it was none of his business, but also because what went on between the pair was something pure and white hot. And, to Ren’s kind, explained how things had changed so much among the Southland dragons of the west.
Only a love like that of Rhiannon and Bercelak could transform everything the dragons of this land had known.
“You summoned me?”
“I did.” She sat down and patted a spot next to her on the slab of rock.
Of course, this was not her official throne. That was in another cavern that had room enough for the Elders. Nor was this her bedchamber. It was, simply, the Queen’s Chamber, where many world-altering decisions often took place.
Ren sat down, and the queen said, “I want to thank you for watching out for my Keita. Being good at what she does makes her a target, and knowing you’ve often supported her has brought me great comfort.”
“Excuse my boldness, but I didn’t think you gave two shits what your whore daughter did. Or were those not the exact words you said to her sixty-eight years ago—correct?”
