Columel a, one of Vateria’s four sisters, posed for Vateria in her dark red tunic. “What do you think?”
“You look wel enough, I suppose.”
“Don’t overwhelm me with your flattery, sister.”
“I hadn’t planned to.” Vateria studied one of her younger cousins, her eyes narrowing. “That’s my necklace,” she told her.
“Can’t I borrow it?” The young dragoness glanced at Vateria over her shoulder, her tone teasing and playful due to the excitement of the upcoming evening. If Vateria remembered correctly, it would be her cousin’s first event as an adult. “You do have to admit it suits me a bit better than you.”
“It’s true, cousin. It does,” Vateria admitted. Then she caught hold of the dragoness around the neck and unleashed her talons, breaking through the skin, blood pouring across her stil -human hand. “That doesn’t mean I gave you leave to take what’s mine.” Her cousin slapped at Vateria’s arms and chest, unable to scream or breathe. Vateria took her to the floor and waited until a nice pool of blood had formed beneath her cousin’s head before she released her. She snatched the necklace off her cousin’s throat and walked over to one of the cowering human servants.
“Let her bleed out a bit more. When it looks like she’s about to die”—she grabbed a smal jar and handed it to the shaking slave—“use this ointment on her. It should stop the bleeding and keep her alive.” Something Vateria had discovered as she’d spent more and more time entertaining herself in her father’s dungeons. For there she kept a great prize. Something so precious that another, more formidable foe was continual y kept from the Province gates. Kept away at least until the return of the great Overlord Thracius and his army.
Vateria focused on one of the royal guards, a dragon. “She’l suffer more as human, so if she shifts to dragon, kil her where she lies.” He nodded and Vateria motioned to al the females. “Let us go. We need to take our seats so the games may begin.” Because no one would dare start the games without the royal family in attendance.
Vateria headed off down the hal , the females fal ing in line behind her while a servant ran along beside her, wiping the blood off her hand.
“You could have just taken the necklace back, sister,” Columel a reminded her.
“That’s very true. But what would have been the lesson learned if I’d done that?” Chapter 3
The next morning Vigholf walked into his brother’s war room and asked the question that had been plaguing him al night. “Know anyone who can fix a spear?”
“A spear?” Ragnar the Cunning glanced up from his scrol s. “When did you start fighting with spears again?”
“Not my spear.” He sat back on his haunches and gazed over what Ragnar was looking at. “What’s this?”
“The tunnel plans.” For nearly seven months they’d had their troops digging out a tunnel that would lead them directly under the Polycarp Mountains and right into the Irons’ stronghold. Once in, they could take the Irons unaware and destroy them. At least that was the current plan.
Whether it would work or not was anyone’s guess, but it was better than sitting around and waiting for something to happen. “It shouldn’t be much longer now.”
“Good. Because the Irons are getting bolder.”
“Why do you say that?” Ragnar asked.
“Another attempt to get in here. Don’t know what they think they’l find, though.”
“How many were there this time?”
“About ten trying to get our attention and three Elites trying to sneak past.” Ragnar looked up again. “Only three?”
“Yes.” Vigholf saw a pile of dried and smoked cows’ legs in the corner and he went over and grabbed one. “Which is why I say I don’t understand what they’re doing. Coming to spy, maybe?”
“Perhaps.” Ragnar sat back on his haunches. “Or they know about the tunnel or they’ve found a weakness here. Something we’ve missed.”
“Don’t be so paranoid.” Vigholf ripped the flesh off the cow’s leg with his fangs. “We didn’t miss anything, we’ve got al the entrances and exits covered. And if they knew about the tunnels, Thracius would have destroyed them by now.”
“You don’t know that.”
Meinhard walked in and Vigholf tossed him a cow’s leg as wel . “Ragnar’s being paranoid.”
“When isn’t he?”
“We can’t afford for anyone to get in here,” Ragnar reminded them. “So do me a favor and see if we may have missed any more possible entrances.”
“You’re asking for a favor?” Vigholf said.
“Like we’re old chums?” Meinhard added.
Fed up, Ragnar snapped, slamming his claws against the thick wood table. “Do what I tel you!”
“No need to get snappy,” Meinhard muttered, and Vigholf hid his smile behind the cow’s leg.
“Bastards,” Ragnar complained with a snarl, but it quickly turned to a smile when the lovely Princess Keita walked in.
“Oooh,” she cheered. “Al these handsome males in one place. It makes a girl so happy!” Ragnar held his claw out and Keita took it, al owing him to pul her tight against his side.
“The Irons tried to get in here again. It’s making me concerned,” Ragnar murmured to her.
“It’l be fine.”
“Maybe, maybe not. But I’m glad you’re going with Ren to Dark Plains.”
“Ren’s leaving?” Vigholf asked. Ren of the Chosen was what the Northlanders termed a “foreign dragon,” which meant he was from somewhere none of them had ever been before. Specifical y the Eastland territories across the sea. He’d turned out to be a helpful al y. Good fighting skil s and he could work Magick as wel . It helped during the heat of battle.
“He’s needed in Dark Plains,” Ragnar answered while he studied Keita’s face. “And Keita’s going with him.”
“Your brother is trying to get rid of me.”
“You know I’m not.”
“And we like having you here,” Vigholf volunteered. “You’re the only reason Ragnar’s even remotely pleasant.”
“Thank you,” Ragnar said flatly.
Keita petted Ragnar’s neck. “I could stay. If you need me to.”
“I do need you. But I’l feel better if you’re far away from here.” He squeezed her. “Go with Ren. He’l appreciate the company.”
“About that . . .” Keita went up on the tips of her claws and began whispering in Ragnar’s ear. Vigholf glanced at Meinhard, but his cousin was too busy sucking the marrow from that cow leg to notice anything.
“You sure?” Ragnar asked.
Keita nodded. “She’s the best choice.”
“Perhaps, but I doubt she’l be happy about it.”
“She’l do it for me. Besides, I’m betting she’d like some time away from my aunt.”
“I’l feel better if it’s her. She’s good.”
“And you don’t like the idea of me being alone with Ren,” she teased. “But he knows that I’m your Battle Twat!”
“It’s maid, Keita!” Ragnar complained over Vigholf and Meinhard’s laughter. “It’s Battle Maid. Not Battle Twat or Battle Slut or Battle Slag. Battle.
Maid.”
She giggled and slipped away from him, silently walking out of the room.
“What was that about?” Vigholf asked.
“Protection detail for the flight back to the Southlands.”
“Why would they need that? The foreigner can handle himself and Keita, quite wel .” Ragnar began to say something, stopped. Thought a moment and final y said, “He might be distracted. It’s best he has a guard. Especially with Keita traveling with him.”
“Who? One of her brothers? Gods,” Vigholf quickly added, “not the boy.”
“No. Éibhear stays here. And I need Fearghus and Briec here as wel . We’re sending one of the cousins instead.” He flicked his claws. “Keep this quiet for now, and we can discuss later.”
“A Cadwaladr, though?” Vigholf pushed. “Wil ing to leave battle to be protection detail for a couple of royals?” He shook his head. “It wil never happen.”
“And you know Keita won’t take no for an answer,” Ragnar reminded him. “My dragoness always knows how to get what she wants. No matter how bloody annoying she has to be to do it.”
Although Rhona had been unable to find time the previous eve to bathe after several additional things came up that needed her attention, she’d final y managed to sneak away during first meal. Now she stood under the waterfal and let the water pour down on her. It felt wonderful against her scales, pounding the tension out of her body and massaging her muscles.
Aaaaaah. Just what she needed. A chance to relax and simply enjoy the quiet and—
“Cousin!”
Rhona faced the cave wal , refusing to be interrupted. Refusing to let her kin invade what had become an almost sacred thing for her—a bath. A gods-damn bath.
“Rhona, you’re so funny,” Keita said, moving closer. “I know you can hear me.” Letting out a sigh, realizing she couldn’t avoid this, Rhona faced her cousin, but she refused to be moved from her spot under the waterfal .
“What is it, Keita?”
“I wanted to see how you’re doing. And to tel you how pretty you look with your warrior braids in your hair. Ever thought of adding ribbons to—”
“No.” Rhona examined her cousin. She was buttering Rhona up for something. “I wil never put ribbons in my hair. Now, what do you want, Keita?”
“Wel —”
“If you dance around this any more, I’m going to get tense.”
“Al right, al right. No need to threaten. I just need a smal favor.”
“There are no smal favors where you’re concerned. So just get it out.”
“I need you to escort me and Ren back to Dark Plains.”
“No.”
Keita frowned. “What do you mean ‘no’?”
“I mean no. I mean you’re up to something, Keita the Viper, and I’m not getting in the middle of it.” Then again, Keita was always up to something.
Although rarely mentioned, this particular war was, in fact, down to the actions of Keita the Viper when she’d lobbed the head of the Overlord’s wife at him in the middle of the Province’s main arena. After that particular move, the war was pretty much a foregone conclusion. And, as far as Rhona was concerned, al Keita’s fault.
“Oh, come now,” Keita pushed. “That’s not fair. And I real y need you to do this for me.”
“We both know Ren can take care of himself, he needs no escort.”
“I’m going with him as wel .”
“He’s capable of escorting you, too.” Confused, Rhona asked, “Isn’t that something you two do al the time? Travel around the world with Ren as your escort?”