“What happened to our wailing little Keita?” Gwenvael asked.
And that’s when she punched him in the groin, dropping her brother to his knees. “I said be nice!” she snarled at her now-wailing older brother.
“Now everyone smile! And welcome him!”
Keita took a breath and called out, “Talaith?” The witch, who’d gone back into the castle a few minutes before, came out.
With a nod of her head, Keita motioned behind her. “Look who’s here.”
Talaith stepped around her mate and Fearghus. “Gods…Éibhear?”
“He’s grown a bit,” Keita teased.
“Éibhear!” Talaith cheered, throwing her arms in the air before charging down the stone steps and over to their youngest sibling.
“See?” Keita pointed out. “That is welcoming.” Fearghus and Briec looked at each other, shrugged, and threw their arms in the air. “Éibhear!” they both cheered in high-pitched voices that made her stamp her foot.
“That is not what I meant!”
Another stunning woman charged over to the oversized pup and threw herself into his arms.
“What does that boy have?” Vigholf asked. As if Meinhard would know. He worked hard simply not to have human females run from him screaming. As his sister once put it, “That permanent scowl you wear and the fact you can’t really see your neck because of your shoulders just makes human women think you only want to rape and pillage their villages. But once they get to know you…”
“Talaith!” the pup said, spinning the female in a circle.
“I’m so glad you’re home.” She kissed him on the cheeks, then the mouth. “And look how big you’ve gotten.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“If you dropped me from this height, I’d be dead by the time I landed.”
“Stop it, Talaith.”
She hugged him again, laughed. “You look wonderful, and all I care about is that you’re home.”
“I’m glad to be home.”
Princess Morfyd walked up behind her brother, patting his back.
“Does my brother not look handsome, Lady Talaith?”
“Gorgeous, Lady Morfyd.”
“Stop it.” The Blue’s cheeks turned red, and he ducked his head.
“Is he blushing?” Vigholf asked.
“I think so,” Meinhard said.
“Have you ever blushed?”
“Not that I know of.”
“You’re forgetting your manners, brother,” Princess Morfyd lightly chastised.
“Oh. You’re right.” Éibhear carefully placed the woman in his arms down. “Talaith, Daughter of Haldane, this is Lord Vigholf and Lord Meinhard.”
The woman smiled, and all Vigholf and Meinhard could do was stare.
She cleared her throat and asked the royal, “Should I be running for my life?”
“No, no. I just think they’ve never met anyone from Alsandair before.”
“Ahh. I see.”
No. She couldn’t see. But Vigholf spoke for them both when he sighed out, “By the gods of war and death, my lady, you are astoundingly beautiful.”
Her grin grew, and she curtsied a bit. “Why thank you, fine sirs.” But before Vigholf and Meinhard could fight to the death to see who would claim her hand, they suddenly had some Southland dragon in human form standing between them and their prize.
“Lightnings,” he sneered.
“Fire Breather,” they sneered back.
He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “This one’s mine.”
“Oy!” came the woman’s voice from behind him.
“Tragically, this one doesn’t have wings for you to hack off anyway, but feel free to go for the one that took your hair.” Vigholf roared at the insult, and Meinhard, hopping on one leg, reached for the battle ax tied to his back.
But good Princess Keita rushed between them. “No, no, no! All of you promised me!”
They had, and, as hard as it was, the cousins immediately apologized.
The Fire Breather, however…
“I promised you nothing, baby sister.”
“You most certainly…” The princess’s words faded, and she studied Vigholf and Meinhard closely. “Where’s Ragnar?” she asked them.
Suddenly that detestable Gold known among their people as the Ruiner caught his sister’s arm and swung her around to face him.
Meinhard reached for his ax again as the Ruiner demanded, “That purple-haired bastard is here?”
Éibhear pulled his sister away from the Gold and said, “He is, and you will not act like an idiot.”
“Where is he?”
“He went off.”
The Ruiner grabbed his brother’s nose and twisted until he had Éibhear bent at the waist. “Where, you idiot? Where did he go off to?”
“I don’t know! Toward some house in the woods outside the main gates!”
“Bastard!”
The Ruiner snarled and took off running.
The silver dragon, laughing, yelled after him, “Run, brother! Run before that Lightning snatches her out from under you—again!”
“And on that note…” Princess Morfyd clapped her hands together.
“Let’s get you upstairs, my lords, and get you settled.”
“I still didn’t agree to their stay—” a black dragon began.
But both princesses quickly barked out, “I don’t want to hear it!”
“Can you take care of our esteemed guests?” the beautiful Talaith, Daughter of Haldane, asked Princess Morfyd.
“Aye.”
“Good.” She caught hold of Princess Keita’s arm and dragged her toward the fortress steps. “Because this one has something to do that she’s left far too long.”
“We’re not going in there alone, are we?” Princess Keita asked, making Meinhard worried for her safety. “Shouldn’t we have guards or something to do this?”
“Stop it, Keita. They’re just children. It’s not like they bite…enough to cause permanently disabling injuries or death.” Children?
“Explain to me why we can’t go home?” Meinhard asked.
“Because my brother’s an idiot,” Vigholf replied.
“That’s what I thought.”
“So explain this house to me, Lady Dagmar. I saw it, and I somehow knew you’d be here.”
Dagmar’s gaze roamed the room, and her accompanying smile was soft and very sweet. A smile once reserved for Ragnar alone, but now—he knew—it was strictly for another.
“I mentioned once to Gwenvael—after too much of his father’s wine, I imagine—that I’d always dreamed of having my own little house on my father’s lands. A little spinster home of my own. I said that I guess I wouldn’t get that now that I had a mate. A mate who, according to him, wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon since he knew how much I adored him and couldn’t live without his presence.” She laughed at an arrogance most couldn’t tolerate for two seconds. “A few months later, Gwenvael brought me here. He’d had the royal builders make this just for me. And it’s perfect, isn’t it? Exactly how I imagined it. I was concerned it was too close to the castle, but I am continually amazed at how lazy you dragons are. If I’m sitting right in the Great Hall, you’ll stop and talk to me or around me for hours. But to traipse a few hundred feet away from the gates to chat…
that takes a taller order, apparently.”
“You forget, my good lady, that you can’t group us all together. There are many dragons, with all sorts of differences, and we hate each other equally.”
She laughed. “Good point. I always forget that.” Ragnar reached across the table and took her hand, his gaze fixed on where his fingers stroked her knuckles. “I’m very glad to see you happy here, Dagmar. And I am sorry about how things ended for us.” No. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t look away from what he’d done. He had to face it directly as he’d done with Keita. “I’m sorry,” he said again, this time making his eyes meet hers. “For how I lied to you all those years about who I was and what I was. I truly never saw a choice and—”
“Stop,” she cut in.
Dagmar looked off for a moment, and he knew she was getting her thoughts organized as she liked to do. No dramatic emotional moments for her, and that was fine with him.
When she returned her gaze to his, it was calm and controlled. Just like her. “I’ll admit that finding out that you’d lied to me did hurt. It hurt me in a way, I imagine, no one else could have. But I’ve also come to understand why you did it. More importantly, I now know and understand that everything you’ve ever done for me, ever shown or taught me, has led me to this. Has led me to a place where I can be who I am without fear or worry. For that alone, Lord Ragnar, all past transgressions are forgiven, and I strongly suggest we leave the past where it is and move on from there.” A weight that had been on his shoulders for far too long lifted. “Do you understand, my Lady Dagmar, that you will always be one of my greatest triumphs?”
Her smile was small but powerful, yet whatever she was about to say in return was cut off when her dog got to his feet and began to bark hysterically at the front door. A moment later, the gold dragon who held Dagmar’s heart threw the front door open and stormed in.
Ignoring the frothing dog right in front of him, Gwenvael the Ruiner focused on Ragnar. “The Liar Monk has returned, I see.” Since it appeared they would not even pretend to honor the basic rules of greeting, Ragnar replied, “Ruiner.”
Gwenvael’s eyes locked on where Ragnar held Dagmar’s hand. “I’m beginning to feel the need to start hurting things,” the Fire Breather announced.
“Quiet.” And it took Ragnar a moment to realize Dagmar was actually talking to Canute. The dog stopped barking, but he kept growling, his eyes fixed on Gwenvael’s throat.
Noticing the dog, the Fire Breather leaned in and asked it, “Miss me, old friend?”
The barking started again, and with a sigh, Dagmar pulled her hand away from Ragnar and walked to the door. She held it open and gestured to Canute. “Out. Now.”
Snarling and reluctant, the dog went outside, where it would most likely stare at the door until it opened again and he could be near his mistress once more.
“Why do you taunt him?” Dagmar demanded, slamming the door once the beast had gone.
“I wasn’t. That was me being nice to him.”
“Then we have much work to do, I fear. Because while you may be replaceable, Defiler, Canute is not!”
“It’s Ruiner! Even this idiot gets it right! And another thing,” the Gold went on, “when I gave you this house, my lady, I never expected you to entertain peasant males who may come wandering in unannounced, and I have to say I am extremely displeased at…cookies!” His apparent rage gone as quickly as it had come, Gwenvael walked to the table and reached into the tin. And that’s when Dagmar slammed the lid on his hand.