“Then we don’t wait for that,” Fearghus said. “Human and dragon legions attack first. Before the Sovereigns’ or Mother’s plans has a chance to play out.”
“No.”
Fearghus’s eyes briefly closed at his mate’s softly spoken, but adamant, proclamation.
“Annwyl—”
“No, Fearghus. That’s what they want. For us to leave the children.”
“It’s not like we’d be leaving them alone in a field to fend for themselves.”
She faced them all, and Dagmar couldn’t help but wince when she saw the human queen’s expression. It was…fixed.
“I’ll not leave them. I can’t make it any plainer.” They watched her walk out, none of them jumping when the door slammed behind her. The queen was a notorious door-slammer.
“I’ll talk to her,” Fearghus said.
“You’ve been talking to her, brother. We all have. She won’t hear us.”
“She dreams,” Dagmar said, telling them what had been said among the servants. “She dreams someone is coming for the babes.”
“And?” Fearghus pushed. “Is she right?”
Dagmar and Morfyd exchanged glances before Dagmar admitted,
“Yes. We think she may be.”
“There will always be someone coming after the babes,” Fearghus said, taking up the spot his mate had left. He even crossed his arms over his chest and stared out the window. “Everyone wants them dead.”
“Trust me, Fearghus, if what Annwyl has been dreaming, if the details I’ve received are correct, then she has good reason to be concerned. We all do.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Ragnar was heading down a side street when he saw the pub.
Although it wasn’t the pub that caught his attention, but the men going into it. Practically running.
He sighed. Honestly. The things he was reduced to.
He stepped into the pub, moving past tables, punters, and barmaids until he reached a small table in the back. That’s where he found Her Majesty holding court, human males surrounding her.
“Lord Ragnar!” she cheered when he stood in front of the table, towering over the other males. “Gentlemen, this is Lord Ragnar. Lord Ragnar, these are my gentlemen.” She giggled at that, and he debated pulling her out by her hair. But that sounded too much like something his father would do—making it impossible for him to do the same. “What brings you here, my lord?”
“I’ve been looking for you. Thought you could return with me to the fortress.”
“But I’m having such fun,” she said, raising the pint in her hand.
Gods, how much ale had she had since she’d run off? It hadn’t taken him that long to track her down.
“It’s time for your fun to end, I’m afraid.”
“But I don’t want it to end,” she pouted, and damn her for looking so adorable while doing so.
“I don’t care—”
“Why don’t you leave off?” one of the men snapped. “Just go—” Ragnar held up his hand in front of the man’s face, silencing him and the entire pub with a thought.
“Don’t annoy me, my lady. Just come along.”
Oblivious, Keita said, “But I don’t want to go.” She was testing him, and he didn’t like it.
Glancing at the man who’d been so protective of her, Ragnar ordered,
“Bark like a dog.”
And when he did, Keita’s eyes grew wide, her mouth dropping open.
“Stop it,” she told him.
Ragnar glanced at the man to his right. “Quack like a duck.”
“Ragnar!” she squeaked over the quacking and barking. “Stop it!” Curious, he asked, “Why do you care what I do to them?”
“Because what you’re doing is wrong. Can’t you see that?” He could; he was just surprised that she could see it as well.
“What do you do that’s so different from what I do?”
“You must be joking.” And he realized she wasn’t drunk at all.
“Not really. These human males would crawl across broken glass to entertain you.”
“Of their own free will. I force no one to do anything and would you stop the quacking and barking! ”
“Stop.”
They did as ordered, and Keita’s eyes narrowed. “Can you do the same to me?”
He laughed. “Dragons are never that easy, princess. But lusty men have to be the easiest of all.”
“Which you’re saying is my fault?”
“You certainly don’t help.” He held his hand out to her. “Now, are you coming, or should I have them start mooing?” Keita stood and walked around the table. She took the hand he held out to her, but wouldn’t move. “Release them, Ragnar.”
“As you wish.”
He did as she bade, everyone returning to what they’d been doing without missing a beat.
The men, realizing Keita was leaving, begged her to stay.
“I’m sorry, all. I must go. But I’ll be back.” She let Ragnar lead her to the front door and outside. “That was mean!” she said, snatching her hand away.
“So is your testing me.”
“I was not.”
“Weren’t you? To see what I’d do with you surrounded by so many men?”
“I do not call them to me. And do you really think I’m that petty?”
“Yes. I do.”
Keita gasped, outraged, and pulled her fist back to assault him with one of her weak pummelings when her sharp gaze caught sight of a blonde wearing a dark blue cape and moving quickly down the street. “It’s her!”
“It’s who?”
“Come.”
“Pardon?”
“We can’t let her get away!” She caught his hand and tried to drag him with her. When he only gawked at her, refusing to be moved until she told him what was going on, she dropped his hand, lifted the skirt of her gown, and followed the woman.
Who knew that sleeping late would cause Éibhear to miss a second fight between Annwyl and Vigholf and Meinhard? And this time he wouldn’t have had to worry about stopping them and possibly losing his head in the process or being responsible for a small territorial incident because it had all taken place in the training ring. But according to the servants who’d brought him something to eat earlier, he’d missed quite the battle. Typical.
But he was home and he was glad to be.
He walked down the stairs and into the Great Hall. No one was around; even the servants off doing something else, somewhere else. It didn’t help that he was bored and still feeling the effects of all that wine from last night. Still, he’d had quite the good time at the pubs with a few of his male cousins and several of the barmaids.
He debated what to do now, and decided that heading into town would work. He could stop by the booksellers and see what was new and interesting—which would probably be everything since it had been ages that he’d purchased a new book. The Northlanders were not big on books and on very few occasions did he get a chance to stop by a bookseller or library.
And gods, when he suggested it, he only got blank stares from the others.
That did sound perfect, though, didn’t it? A good book and a hearty meal at one of the local pubs.
Checking his pocket for coin—he’d stolen some from Briec’s room, it’s not like his brother needed so much—Éibhear set off.
He walked outside and immediately winced from the light searing his brain. It didn’t deter him from his goal, but it reminded him that drink was not always his friend. He simply didn’t handle it as well as his kin.
Taking his time and only able to keep one eye open, he walked down the Great Hall steps. As soon as his feet touched the cobblestones of the courtyard, he turned toward the side exit and started off.
“Hello, Éibhear.”
Éibhear stopped and looked back at the stairs. He’d thought he’d passed someone on the steps, but he’d been so focused on just getting down them without throwing up, he hadn’t really paid much mind.
Squinting, he leaned in a bit to get a better look. Gods, he might never drink again at this rate.
“Uh…hello.”
“Gods…have I changed that much in two years that my own uncle doesn’t recognize me?”
Éibhear’s eyes opened wide—both of them—and he ignored the pain doing so caused as he stared at her. “Izzy?” Her smile, as always, lit up her face and his world. He hated her for that smile. On those long, lonely patrols in desolate Northland territory, it had been that smile he couldn’t stop thinking about.
“How…how are you?”
“Fine. Found out my parents and entire family are”—and this she yelled up at the castle walls—“complete and utter liars! ”
“Oh, get over it already!” Talaith yelled back from somewhere inside.
“But other than that,” Izzy went on, “I’m fine. How about you?”
“I’m fine.”
“The Northlands have treated you well, I see. You’re bigger. All over.”
Don’t say it. Do not say it!
“Lots of hard work. How’s army life?” he asked quickly to change the subject.
“I’m still in formation,” she complained, rolling her eyes.
“I move trees. A lot.”
She laughed. “Don’t worry. I’m sure in a few more years we’ll both be forces to be reckoned with.”
Éibhear pointed at her. “What have you got there?” She held up the ball of fur. “Puppy.”
“You didn’t get that from Dagmar’s kennels, did you? She’ll have your hide.”
“So telling her I found him wandering around outside won’t work?”
“Not even a little.”
She brought the puppy closer to her face, her nose to its wet snout.
“But he’s so cute.”
“And in a few more months, he’ll be able to take your face completely off.”
“Then I definitely want him.”
Éibhear chuckled. “I see you haven’t changed, Izzy.”
“It depends on who you talk to.”
It hit Éibhear at that moment, watching Izzy with her puppy, still wearing travel-soiled leggings and a sleeveless tunic, dirt on her cheeks and neck…he was over her. All those inappropriate feelings he’d had for her—and the gods knew how he loathed all those damn, uncontrollable feelings—were gone. He still couldn’t see her as his niece, or even a cousin, but she was still Izzy. Izzy that he had no interest in whatsoever.
The realization made his headache fade away, and he stepped a little closer. “I was about to go into town, stop by the booksellers, then get something to eat. Maybe you’d like to—”
“Oy!”
Éibhear looked across the courtyard and smiled at the sight of his cousin Celyn. He and Celyn used to be quite close when they were both younger until…well, until Celyn had met Izzy. But that didn’t matter now.