The Dragon Who Loved Me. G.A. Aiken
brothers commanded their own troops with three generals reporting directly to each and the respective number of legions under each prince’s banner. It had been many years since Fearghus, Briec, and Gwenvael had led troops into battle, but they’d done well from the beginning, impressing even the hard-to-impress Northlanders with their skills.
“If Fearghus and Briec find out, they will leave and take half of Mother’s army with them, and the Cadwaladrs. You can’t afford that right now and my brothers will not be stopped. Not when it comes to this and no matter the protection you think is in place in Garbhán Isle. But Ren and I can handle this without going through all that.”
“And bringing your cousin?”
“Merely a formality to ensure our safety. Ren will be working Magicks, and his strength will be diminished. As will his focus. But Rhona will watch out for us like a ferocious demon dog from the underworld.”
He finally smiled. “I wouldn’t say that to her face.”
“No, no,” Keita replied with some seriousness. “She’s not like her sisters and mother. She’d not find that a compliment.”
Chapter 4
Rhona met Keita and Ren at one of the lower exits. As human, they’d take this tunnel out of the stronghold until they reached a safe distance and could finally fly. But seeing her younger cousin waiting patiently for her had Rhona remembering the last time she’d babysat Princess Keita when the Dragon Queen’s centaur nanny had been away from Devenallt Mountain for a few months. A few months that had been the longest in Rhona’s life. Yet Rhona loved Keita despite that past incident.
“Cousin!” Keita cheered when she saw her, running over to give Rhona a hug. “It’s been absolutely ages!”
“I saw you less than an hour ago.”
“Really?” Keita glanced off. “It felt longer.”
Rhona’s eyes briefly crossed before she asked, “Are you ready to go, cousin?”
“Aye. We are.”
Rhona stepped away from Keita and went to Ren. Her smile warm, she hugged him. “Hello, old friend.”
“Rhona. Are you ready for all this?”
“No. But to protect you from Keita, I’ll be there.”
Ren laughed and Keita pouted.
“Then let’s get on the road,” Rhona prodded, ready to be traveling.
Keita quickly sized her up. “You’re being very pushy, cousin.”
“The quicker this gets done, the quicker I can return to the battle.”
“And glory?”
“What else is there for a Cadwaladr?”
Keita patted Rhona’s shoulder. “You make me sad.”
Ragnar, also in human form, wrapped his arms around Keita, pulling her into his body. He hugged her tight, whispered something into her ear.
Although unable to give them complete privacy, Rhona turned away—and faced Vigholf. She frowned, noting he was dressed for travel with his big, human-sized but adjustable warhammer and ax tied to his back, a thin fur cape around his shoulders, and a travel bag over that.
“Why are you here?” she asked Vigholf.
“I’ll be coming along.”
Her eyes narrowed more. So much she could barely see. “Coming along where?”
“With Keita and Ren, for protection.”
Rhona slammed the butt of one of her emergency spears into the ground, her hand gripping the shaft tight. “They have me for that. I’m here to protect them.”
“Of course you are.” And the condescension came through loud and clear. She was surprised he didn’t pat her on the head like a trusted but crippled mutt.
“New spear?” he asked.
“No. One of my backups.”
“Have you thought about moving up to a short sword?”
“No.”
“They’re not hard to learn to work with. I could show you while we’re traveling.”
“I know how to use a short sword. As I’ve explained, I’m trained in all weapons.”
“But you still use a spear?”
“I like it.”
“For field use, I understand. But for this kind of mission . . . shouldn’t you have something a little less . . . cumbersome?”
Rhona pulled the spear back to demonstrate on his neck how cumbersome her weapon was, but Ragnar stepped between them.
“Check outside,” he told his brother. “Make sure it’s clear.”
Vigholf walked off and Ragnar faced her.
“I know,” he said before she could speak. “I know.”
“How can two brothers be so bloody different?”
“Let him do this,” Ragnar pleaded with a smile. “He’ll feel better and—”
“So will you?”
He shrugged. “She’s my Keita. Knowing that both you and my brother protect her on this trip will give me nothing but ease. And you’ll find out soon enough why this trip is so important. So for me—and my sanity—do this.”
Dammit. If it had been anyone else . . . but it was Ragnar. From the beginning he’d impressed Rhona. Fair, smart, and a strong commander, he never questioned whether she or any female could or should fight. He simply assumed if you were in the army you could do your job. He was rare for a Lightning. His brother, however . . .
“Rhona?” Ragnar pushed.
She nodded, but with reluctance. “All right. But you’ll owe me, Dragonlord—for putting up with him.”
“Fair enough.” Ragnar winked and motioned at Keita. “And you’ll protect her?”
“She’s blood, my lord. I’ll protect her with my life.”
“Good. Because she is my life.”
Rhona smiled. “That I know.”
Vigholf crouched low by the small cave entrance, big enough only for a human. He raised his arm, lifted his hand, and then he heard it. The signal from Meinhard letting him know that it was—as best he could tell—all clear. Vigholf waited another second, then two. When he was sure, he brought his hand down.
Rhona came out first. Her gaze swept the area. After a moment, she moved quickly and kept low.
Keita and the Eastlander rushed out behind her, keeping low, keeping quiet. He looked back at the exit one last time, his brother standing there watching them go. They locked gazes, the need for words and good-byes long gone. On this trip anything could happen to Vigholf, and during a war anything could happen to Ragnar. It was the way of the warrior and something they’d accepted long ago. But they wouldn’t dwell on that. Instead, Vigholf nodded at his brother, took one more look around, but seeing nothing strange or out of place, he followed the others and headed to the Southlands.
Chapter 5
Talaith, Daughter of Haldane and Mate of Briec the Arrogant, also known as Briec the Mighty, walked down the stairs to the Great Hall of Garbhán Isle. She was tired. It would be the full moon in a few days and she had much to do before she performed the spells she was planning. For she was one of the Nolwenn witches out of the Desert Lands and for more than sixteen years her powers had been denied her by a bitch goddess she still refused to discuss in polite company. But