“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?”
“I won’t explain the relationship I have with my daughter to anyone.
Not to you—”
“Not to her.”
“Not to anyone. What I do and why I do it, is mine to know and understand.”
“I see. Then perhaps we should address what you want with me.”
“I need you to head west and—”
“No.” Ren shook his head. “I’ll not leave so you can have Keita at the will of that Northlander.”
“He worries you.”
“He was able to hurt her when no male I’ve known has ever managed before.”
“Which means what to you?”
“That she’s vulnerable to him. I don’t like it.”
“It’s not yours to like or not like. Keita may be vulnerable to him, as you put it, but I have no doubt that will only make it harder for him to get near her. But separating you two isn’t my goal here.”
“Then what is your goal? What can only I help you with?”
“I need you to look into something for me.”
“Which is?”
She tossed something at him, and Ren caught it in his claw. He studied it. “A gold Quintilian coin.”
“A Sovereign coin. There is a difference.” He knew that. A Quintilian coin could be found anywhere and was used throughout the lands. A Sovereign coin, which held vastly more value because it was pure gold, was only found in the Quintilian empire and usually only among the nobles. “It was found buried under the remains of another town destroyed by what we had believed to be one of the barbarian tribes.”
“But you no longer think it’s the barbarians?”
“Whoever is doing this kills everyone and take no slaves. Barbarians of the Western Mountains always take slaves. That’s how they make their money.”
“You truly think it’s the Sovereigns?”
“I know it’s the Sovereigns. But I need hard proof. Not only for the Elders, who have never felt good about my alliance with the Lightnings, but for my offspring. They think I only want war.”
“Don’t you?”
She threw her claws up, reminding him of her daughter. “Yes! But only with those I know I can destroy—and that, my friend, is not the Irons.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
“You are a Protector of the Throne?” Dagmar nodded at Keita’s admission, and leaned close to Gwenvael. “What is that exactly?” It was so rare that there was something— anything! —his mate did not know, he would admit he took a moment to enjoy the sensation. Until she said, “Well?”
“They’re like…special agents to the throne, I guess.”
“You mean spies?” Dagmar asked, focusing on his sister. “You?
You’re a…spy?”
“I prefer Protector. Spy sounds so sordid, don’t you think?”
“You? ” Dagmar said again, forcing Gwenvael to bump her with his hip. So far Keita seemed to like Dagmar; he wanted to keep it that way. He’d ended up on the wrong side of Keita’s rage more than once, and spending three days doing nothing but vomiting up whatever she’d slipped into his food or wine was not a fate he’d want his lovely mate to endure. “It’s just…
you seem so vapid.”
Gwenvael flinched, but Keita only laughed. “I do, don’t I? And mostly I am. Except when it comes to the throne. I will protect that with my dying breath, if necessary.”
“Hopefully, it won’t be,” the Lightning cut in, and Gwenvael couldn’t help sneering at the bastard.
“What do you have to do with anything?” When the Lightning didn’t reply, Gwenvael looked at his sister. “Keita? What’s going on with you two?”
“I’m simply using him for sex.”
“Of course you are. But that doesn’t explain why you’ve still allowed him to hang around you once you’re done.”
“He’s very good?”
Dagmar pressed the back of her hand to Gwenvael’s chest, her gaze on Keita and Ragnar. “Is this about the Sovereigns?” she asked, and when both their expressions turned perfectly blank, Gwenvael knew his mate had guessed right.
Keita studied the human Gwenvael had mated himself to. “How much can she be trusted?” she asked her brother.
“I’ve already trusted her with my life and the lives of everyone in this family. Her loyalty is not in question. Even Father trusts her.” Surprised, Keita raised a brow. “Indeed?” She nodded. “Then I’ll make this quick and what I tell you goes no farther than these walls.” When they all agreed, she continued. “There’s a distinct chance Overlord Thracius hopes to put me on the throne. Mother thinks he’s already secured the assistance of someone in her court. She believes they’ll approach me soon, but to speed that process up a bit…I need it to get out that I’ve known where Esyld has been all this time.”
Her brother shook his head. “Are you insane? If the family finds out—”
“It’s a risk I have to take. And I think you can help me, Dagmar.”
“You want me to get the rumor about you and Esyld out?”
“Can you think of anyone better to make that happen?” Dagmar smirked. “Not really.”
“I don’t like this, Keita,” Gwenvael said.
“I know you don’t, but I need the traitors to present themselves much sooner. I fear we’re running out of time.”
Gwenvael began to argue, but his mate cut him off.
“She’s right.” Dagmar let out a breath. “We’ve become fairly certain the Sovereign human troops are raiding small towns and villages near the Western Mountains. Dividing Annwyl’s troops, hoping to pull more dragon troops there to help.”
“And it seems Styrbjörn the Revolting may be helping Thracius,” Ragnar added. “Everything is moving into place. As much as I hate this as well, we must push this along.”
“And what about the safety of my sister?” Gwenvael demanded, glaring at the Northlander but making Keita feel a touch more special than she had a few minutes ago.
“I will protect your sister with my life. I swear it on the Code and the name of my kin.”
“Which means what to me?” Gwenvael demanded.
“Everything,” Dagmar told her mate. “It means everything.”
“Keita?” Gwenvael asked her. “What say you?”
“I trust Ragnar the Cunning as I trust you…or actually more like I trust Ren.”
Gwenvael pouted. “You trust Ren more than me?”
“At least he’s reliable.”
“You can’t seriously still be blaming me for that, little sister! I was late one time!”
“And I nearly lost this amazing head! If it hadn’t been for Ren, my perfection would have been lost for the ages. I still don’t know how you live with yourself after that!”
“Because my perfection would have remained. And that’s all that matters!”
They eventually left the warehouse, the pairs separating. As they headed back to the castle, Gwenvael took his mate’s hand.
“Well?” he asked.
“I can’t believe you never told me.”
“It wasn’t my information to tell. And she’s my sister.”
“Reason help me, she is so your sister, Gwenvael.”
“What does that mean?”
“I hope Ragnar understands what he’s about to get himself involved with.”
“He’s already f**ked her—how much more involved can he get?”
“He hasn’t.”
“He hasn’t what?”
“As you so eloquently put it, f**ked her.”
Gwenvael stopped, pulling his mate to a halt. “How do you know that?”
“Instinct. Body language. Your sister is very smart. She knows having a very secret relationship with Ragnar, a low-born enemy dragon—no matter how many alliances your mother agrees to, many of your kin and other noble dragons still consider the Northland dragons enemies—Keita comes off even more of the bored royal itching for her mother’s throne. She plays stupid because it makes her seem controllable. Too bad she’s more like her mother than either of them seems to realize.”
“Don’t ever say that loud enough Keita can hear you. She’ll rip your throat out.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” She tugged, and they began to walk again.
“But they will be soon enough, I’m guessing.” Gwenvael had learned over the years that his mate had a tendency to jump from conversation to conversation because that’s how her brilliant mind worked. Most beings could barely manage one or two cohesive thoughts at a time; Dagmar seemed to manage hundreds.
“They will be soon enough what?”
“Fucking.”
Gwenvael stopped again. “I thought you just said they weren’t?”
“They’re not. Although I don’t know why it bothers you so much.”
“What if he’s just toying with my sister because he’s good and pissed I got you?”
“I think it would be very hard for any male to toy with your sister and live to enjoy it. But it doesn’t matter because that’s not Ragnar’s way.” When Gwenvael could only manage a grunt, Dagmar stroked her free hand against his chin. “And I’m with you, not with him. He understands that.”
“He better.”
“Besides, I’m sure once he beds your sister, he won’t think about me for another second.”
“How are you so sure that’ll happen?”