What a Dragon Should Know
Page 31

All drama and humor left the dragon’s face as he stared at her, knowing the truth of her words. He slumped back in his chair. “Are you sure this information is accurate?”
“My source is impeccable.”
“Understood.” He pushed his chair back from the table. “One legion.”
“Excellent.”
He stood and Dagmar knew she had to take her chance now.
“There’s something else.”
Gwenvael looked down at her. “What?”
“The tunnels from the Ice Lands lead through the Northlands, into the south, until they reach the desert lands of Alsandair.”
His face went blank, his jaw slack. “I don’t … what?”
“If they took the right tunnel, they could come up in the middle of your Main Hall and you wouldn’t know it until they speared you clean, tore her apart, and took her babes.” She sat back in her chair. “None of you know about the tunnels, do you?”
“I don’t understand. If those tunnels exist, how come none of your kinsmen—”
“To bring a full army through there would be impossible. The dwarves made sure of that. Plus its use wasn’t for Northlanders but for those from the Ice Lands who rarely call for war against anyone but each other. Most Northlanders don’t even know the tunnels exist. And the few who do are not keen on the idea of battling anything underground. Tunnels are always risky.”
“But you know this information.”
“I have learned friends.”
“You said if they take the right tunnels. I need to know which tunnels those are—I need to know all the tunnels.”
Dagmar’s toes curled in her boots. “I could get you that information.” She took a breath. “For a price.”
He rolled his eyes. “Fine. Two legions. Total.”
“No.”
“We’re not back to five, are we?”
“No. One legion, for my father. As you promised.”
“Then I don’t understand—”
“I know who can help you, who can give you the information.”
“All right.”
“All you need to do … is take me with you.”
Gwenvael stared at her a long moment, her back straight, her eyes looking intently at him through those bits of glass. “You want to run away with me?”
It hadn’t been the first time a woman had asked him, begged him even, to take her away from her life. But Dagmar only laughed. “By all reason! Of course I’m not asking to run away with you!”
“Then what are you asking me for?”
“The one who can give us the information is no more than a day’s ride from here. Even less if we’re flying. I go with you and help you get this information, and before you say it, you will need me to help you get this information. Then you bring me back.” She snapped her fingers. “Even better you can take me to Gestur’s.”
“Who the hell is Gestur?”
“He’s my uncle. Loyal to my father.”
“And why would you want to go there?”
“I have my reasons. Besides, he’s planning to come out here anyway in another month or so. I could return with him. It would be my own little holiday away.”
“Before you start enjoying your holiday, your father will never let you go. All that Northman Code to contend with.”
“My father barely remembers my name. He refers to me as girl or little miss.”
“I thought those were terms of endearment.”
“Does he look endearing to you? But if you insist, it can be part of the deal that includes the legion and supplies—”
“What supplies?”
“The supplies you promised.”
“I never promised you any supplies.”
“You meant to.”
“I did not.” She was enjoying this entirely too much! He could see it by the little smirk on her face. She knew he needed the information on those bloody tunnels and she had no problem extorting him over it.
The world should be glad she hadn’t been born a man. She’d be emperor by now.
“I’m not doing this.”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re up to something.”
“A few hours of freedom are all I ask, Lord Gwenvael. Is that really too much?”
Damn her.
“You swear you’ll really help me.”
“On my life as a Reinholdt, anything I can do to help your queen, I will.”
“Fine.” He lowered his head, took several breaths, and when he looked at her again, he saw her through tears.
She reared back a bit. “What are you doing?”
Gwenvael didn’t have time to warn her before her father came storming in, the simple fact the warlord hadn’t bathed in at least two days giving him away to Gwenvael’s poor nostrils. “What the hell’s going on?” Sigmar demanded, a pint in his hand.
Sniffing dramatically, Gwenvael gazed across the desk at Dagmar. Without even a twitch, she immediately stood and walked to her father’s side. “Give us a moment, won’t you, Lord Gwenvael?”
“Of course,” he choked out, impressing even himself by the little added sob at the end.
Dagmar took her father out into the hallway again. She wanted to jump up and down and clap her hands, but that would definitely work against her. Instead she said, “Sorry about that. He’s very upset.”