“What about her?”
“She hides something.”
“Keita hides much,” Rhona admitted. “She is a Protector of the Throne. She wil do al in her power to safeguard the throne of our kind, even to her death.”
“She’d go that far? Even to risk her young nieces and nephew?”
“I doubt Keita thinks she’s risking them. And she has and wil risk her own life. I know now that’s never a question.” For tiny Keita had faced the wrath of their bitch cousin Elestren, who was anything but tiny. Elestren had believed Keita a traitor and, without orders, set about sending Keita to the salt mines on the Desert Land borders. Al because Keita had embarrassed the Dragonwarrior by taking her eye during fair combat training.
Unfortunate, perhaps, but Rhona’s own mother had lost the tip of her wing while training with her sister Ghleanna. Something that affected her flying, but over the centuries she’d learned to manage it. And she’d never held it against her sister.
Yet Keita had faced Elestren bravely, proving what Rhona had always suspected about her cousin—Keita was nothing like she seemed.
Taking Rhona’s word for it, he motioned to her food. “Eat.”
“Thanks for this.”
The Lightning grunted before asking, “And Keita’s grand scheme—you al right with it?” Around the dried beef she chewed, Rhona replied, “It is what it is.”
“So you just accept it then?”
She shrugged, biting off a piece of bread. “Why wouldn’t I accept it?”
“But you didn’t ask anything. Push for more answers from Keita. What if this isn’t what it seems at al ? What if it’s worse?”
“Then I’l adjust. Because that’s what a good soldier does. I fol ow orders. I adjust. That’s what I’l do now.” Vigholf didn’t understand this female. She never asked questions, she never disobeyed, and she never did more than fol ow the orders given. Yet she was in no way lazy or stupid or incapable. Although female, she fought extremely wel and deserved her title of sergeant. But Vigholf couldn’t help but see more for her. Just like the rest of her siblings, who, to be honest, he didn’t find nearly as capable.
So then what was it? Why did she seem happy to simply settle for being an order taker?
“Do you even like being a soldier?” he asked. “Because it never sounds like you do.” Her eyes widened a bit and he realized he’d surprised her with his question. Had no one asked her if she’d wanted to be a soldier? Then again .
. . after knowing Rhona’s mother, he doubted that anyone had asked Rhona anything. It was probably a given.
“I like it wel enough,” she eventual y answered.
“Do you love it?”
She took an even longer time to answer that, slowly chewing her food and staring thoughtful y out over the land.
“I’m good at it,” she final y replied, dark brown eyes focusing on him. “I am, point of fact, the best soldier you’l ever meet. The most loyal, the most dedicated, the most skil ed. But I am no more than that. I am no more than the best soldier you’l ever meet.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.” To be honest, he’d kil for a troop fil ed with nothing but soldiers like Rhona.
“Among my kin . . . it’s a disappointing thing. So when I talk about it, what you hear isn’t hatred over what I do. Just resignation.” She handed over half the meat and bread he’d given her. “You’l need to keep your strength up, too, Commander. We’l be back in Dark Plains in another day and a half,” she added, expertly climbing down from her perch, “and I sense we’l need your Northland strength.” Then she was gone and Vigholf spent his watch thinking about brown eyes and the resignation he’d seen within them.
Chapter 7
They ended up taking several breaks because of Ren during the next day of travel. Whatever Magicks the Eastlander was doing were quite strong and Rhona began to worry about him.
While Keita took a quick nap by the base of a tree a few feet away, Rhona crouched beside Ren. They’d shifted to their human forms and dressed in case any true humans stumbled upon them. The path they’d been flying above was often busy this time of year, and Rhona had no desire to kil some human because he simply stumbled into the midst of dragons and felt the need to warn his neighbors.
“What can I do for you, old friend?” Rhona asked.
Ren smiled at her. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve been out drinking with my cousins.”
“Gods, do I real y look that bad?” He grinned and Rhona felt better for seeing it. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Real y. Exhausted, but fine. Once I get the children into the Eastlands, my father’s strength and the power of my parents’ home wil get me back to my old self. I promise.”
“Is there anything you need now?”
“Any food left?”
Her eyes crossed. “That barbarian’s eaten what we’ve brought with us. He just sucks up al the food around him without caring about anyone else.”
Ren chuckled. “It could be worse. He could be chatty.”
“Good point. You know how I hate chatty.” Rhona stood. “Let me see if I can track something down for you. I’l even roast it for you.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Ren of the Chosen.”
“Real y? And why’s that then?”
“Because you manage to control Keita and keep her relatively safe. For that alone—the entire Clan owes you.” Rhona lifted her head, sniffed the air. “Deer,” she said and went after it.
Vigholf caught the deer by its throat and slammed it into a tree, snapping its neck, and tossed the carcass to the ground. His stomach grumbled and he reached for the animal, planning to tear it open and enjoy its stil -warm insides.
But before his fingers could touch the animal’s soft pelt, a blast of flame singed his human fingers.
“Gods-dammit! What was that for?”
“You have to be the most selfish dragon I’ve ever met,” Rhona accused. “And considering my kin—that’s truly saying something.”
“What did I do now?”
“Ren needs to eat.”
“So? Let him eat.”
“You’ve devoured al the dried beef and bread we had. You haven’t even asked any of us if we’re hungry or not.” Vigholf shrugged. “I asked Keita. But she—”
“Keita? You asked Keita? Keita who’s not doing any Magicks to protect her nieces and nephew? Keita who’s not protecting anyone? Keita who’s done nothing but talk about al the bloody dresses she plans to get—not buy mind, but get—when she arrives in Dark Plains? She’s the one you’re making sure is fed?”
Vigholf cleared his throat, scratched the back of his neck. “Wel . . . yeah.” Rhona’s eyes narrowed and she shoved him back from the carcass. “I’m giving this to Ren. You can bring your precious Keita something else that you caught or kil ed.”
“That deer wasn’t for her. It was for me. I’m hungry.”
“Again?” Rhona gawked up at him. “How can you be hungry again? You’ve done nothing but eat al day. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen a dragon eat while flying.”
“Then clearly you’re not putting in enough effort.” Rhona’s eyes narrowed again, and Vigholf, in no mood to fight with her, quickly put his hands up.
“There’s more deer over in that glen. I’l grab one of those.”
“Good.”
Rhona crouched beside the carcass and proceeded to skin it.
Vigholf watched her for a time until he asked, “How’s the Eastlander doing anyway?”
“He’s tired. To-his-bones tired.”
“You’re worried about him.”
“Aye. I am.”
“You two seem . . . close.”
Rhona gave a good yank and removed the deer’s pelt with her bare hands. “Aye. I guess we are.”
“How close?”
She tossed the pelt aside and looked up at Vigholf. “What?”
“How close are you to the one your sisters refer to as the ‘ handsome foreigner’?”
“Why are you asking?”
“Why won’t you tel me?”
“Because it’s none of your business?”
“And what exactly is none of my business? What are you hiding from me?”
Rhona stood, flicking the deer blood and pulp from her hands. “I hide nothing from you, but my business and my personal life are my own. Even my mother doesn’t ask me these sorts of questions.”
“I’m not your mother.”
“No. So you have even less right.”
“Then answer me this,” he quickly said before she could walk off. “Are you two . . . attached?” She snorted a smal laugh. “No. Not like that. We’re . . . old friends.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Unattached old friends. So leave it be.”
Except Vigholf wasn’t sure he could.
Rhona blasted the deer with her flame, using the power of it to turn the carcass over and over until it was wonderful y roasted on al sides. She reached for it and lifted it onto her shoulder. That’s when Vigholf asked, “Do you want to be attached?” Rhona froze. Al these questions were beginning to get strange. Then again, the barbarian was strange.
“Attached to what?”
“A mate of your own.”
“Guess I hadn’t thought much about it. Why?”
“No reason.”
“How could you have no reason to ask me that?” Rhona snapped.
“Because I don’t.”
“Wel , you don’t have to snarl!” She turned away from him.
“But,” he said to her back, “you’re not against having a mate?”
Rhona faced him again. “Why are you asking me these questions?”
“Because I’m curious.”
“Wel , be curious with another female.”
“Why? What’s wrong with you?”
“Nothing’s wrong with me except that I’d never settle for a male who wouldn’t fight with me in battle.”
“I’ve been fighting with you in battle for five years.”
“Not wil ingly.”
“That’s ox shit. When have I ever said—”
“‘Females . . . fighting by my side?’” Rhona imitated in her low, making-fun-of-Vigholf voice that she used to entertain the triplets. “‘When did the hel s come to earth?’”
He blinked. “Oh. Al right. I may have said those words before, but—”
“But what?”
“But not when it’s been you. I’ve never said those words about you. You’ve impressed me from the beginning.”
“How very big of you,” she snipped, again turning away from him. “You lunkhead.” Rhona took a few steps, but Vigholf cut in front of her. “I’l admit that my opinion of female fighters was that there were none. But,” he quickly added when she hissed, “you and your sisters have changed my opinion on that belief. Shame I can’t say the same about you believing al Northlanders are barbarians.”