“And yet words keep spilling from your lips . . .”
Knowing well how ridiculous and pointless this could get, Izzy moved between the siblings and asked, “Keita, can you tell me who sent for me? Éibhear didn’t seem to know.”
“Well, I didn’t tell Éibhear to do anything. I told him not to come get you. That was for me and Ragnar. So that way we could have spent some time with you, talked, and simply enjoyed—”
“Keita,” Izzy cut in. “Who sent for me?”
“I did, which is why I was planning to come for you.”
Izzy shook her head. “Why would you send for me? What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing’s wrong. Nothing at all.” Again Keita put her arm around Izzy’s shoulders, pulling her in close. “I’d just like you to meet someone I think you’ll find really . . . interesting.”
Izzy yanked away from the dragoness. “Are you telling me you summoned me from a gods-damn war so that I could meet some male?”
“Not just any male. A royal human!”
Afraid she’d smack her own beloved aunt in the mouth, Izzy started to walk away, but Keita yanked her back with a surprising amount of strength for a dragoness known for her physical weakness.
“Now, now. I know what you’re thinking.”
“You really don’t. Or you’d get your hands off me.”
“You’re thinking that I’m talking about just some random, useless male that could barely give you an orgasm, much less beautiful jewels.” Izzy tried to walk away once more, but again she was yanked back. “But I’m talking about a male with much more potential than that. And he likes your type.”
Izzy was about to make another attempt at escape, but she stopped and looked at Keita. “My type?”
“Uh-huh. Your type.”
Not sure what she could mean, Izzy tried to guess. “You mean . . . my coloring?” With so few people from the Desert Lands venturing into Dark Plains, Izzy and her mum were often considered “exotic” by some males, based on their skin color alone.
“No. I mean more your . . . build.”
“My build?”
“She probably means those sturdy shoulders,” Éibhear tossed in.
“Why are you speaking when I’m no longer talking to you?” Keita snapped.
“You keep saying that,” he shot back, “but then you keep talking to me.”
“I guess I’m unclear,” Izzy cut in, desperate, “what you want from me.”
“It sounds like she’s trying to whore you out.”
Keita swung on her brother, her small fist hitting him in the chest. And Izzy cringed from the sound of cracking bones and watched Keita grip her hand and stomp her feet. “Damn you, Éibhear!”
“Why are you yelling at me? I’m not the one trying to whore out our niece.”
“I am not trying to whore out anyone! You overbearing bastard!”
“Now you’re calling me names? Where did our love go, Keita?”
“Oh, shut up!”
“I think I’m going to get first meal,” Izzy said.
“You’re not going anywhere, Iseabail. Not until we’re done talking.”
Izzy looked at her aunt. “Trust me, Keita. We’re done.”
Dagmar sat at the table, going over what would be needed for security during the upcoming harvest festival. Bercelak had already promised her several troops’ worth of his Dragonwarriors and all she needed now were the numbers from the human troops. Many more royals would be coming in and she wanted to ensure their protection. It would not do to have any of them assassinated while under the queen’s protection.
“Dagmar.”
“Oh, good. Brastias. Do you have those numbers I asked for?”
Morfyd’s mate and Annwyl’s commander general walked up to her. “I do. I just got them.”
He handed over the parchment and Dagmar quickly examined the numbers of troops that could be spared, her mind immediately organizing.
“This will work well. Thank you.”
“Of course.” Brastias turned away from her but then suddenly faced her again. “And before I forget, I can assume you’re done with those barracks? I’ll need them for the commanders who will be coming in with their troops.”
Dagmar looked up at the commander general. “What barracks?”
“The one you had your nephews in.”
“I’ll need to find out from them when they’re planning to leave before I can say with any certainty—”
“But they’ve already left.”
“What? What do you mean they’ve left?”
“They left last night some time. The gate guards told me.”
Confused, Dagmar slowly got to her feet. “They left without a word? Are you sure they didn’t just go hunting?”
“The guard asked because of Annwyl’s hunting restrictions until after the feast. They said they were going back to the Northlands—and to tell you ‘bye.’”
Talaith, who’d just walked over to the table with a bowl of hot porridge, stared at the pair. “Really? But I saw Frederik earlier. He was with Éibhear. Would they have left their cousin?”
Dagmar closed her eyes, her hands curling into fists, the parchment she still held crumpled into a ball. “Those bastards! They were planning this!”
She couldn’t believe she’d been so stupid. That she hadn’t seen this coming. That she’d wake up one morning and her nephews would be gone—but Frederik would remain. It was a family practice that the Reinholdts had become well known for. Bringing useless male family members for a little “visit” and then leaving without them. Dagmar knew all the signs. Knew that’s what was coming. But she’d been in the Southlands for so long, dealing with much more rational beings than her own brothers, that she’d ignored all those signs. And now she was stuck with that . . . oh!
“Calm down,” Talaith soothed.
Pressing her balled fists against her eyes—and her sudden headache—Dagmar snarled, “I will not calm down! I should have known they would do this. I should have known! They left that illiterate boy here with me and what the battle-fuck am I supposed to do with him?”
Brastias cleared his throat and Dagmar dropped her fists, not in the mood to hear any soothing words from him or Talaith. But she found grey eyes much like her own gazing at her from the Great Hall entrance. Frederik standing there with Keita, Izzy, and Éibhear, the entire room now silent, even the servants aghast.
Yet before Dagmar could say a word, Keita folded her arms over her chest, looked up at Éibhear, and smugly said, “You can’t tell me this is not worse than me whoring out Izzy.”
Talaith blinked. “Wait . . . you did what?”
Yawning, Ragnar walked out of the room he shared with Keita and headed toward the Great Hall. As he neared the stairs, he saw Rhianwen sitting at the banister, her long legs poking through the free space between the wood bars and hanging over the side. Her hands were wrapped around the bars and she peeked through to watch something in the Great Hall below.
Ragnar sat down next to her and without looking at him, she smiled and said, “Hello, Uncle Ragnar.”
“Hello, my dearest Rhi. What drama did I miss while I took a bath?”
“One second it was all quiet and I was just sitting here thinking.” She glanced at him, smiled. “I sit and think a lot.”
“I know. I like that about you.”
“Then Uncle Brastias came in and told Auntie Dagmar that her nephews had left in the middle of the night and left Frederik behind.”
Ragnar winced. Such a Northlander thing to do and the only sign of weakness that any Northland male—of any species—was willing to show. Although they didn’t believe in killing the weaker ones of their Horde, they weren’t above “visiting” a relative with the weaker member and then leaving them.
“Poor Frederik,” Rhi sighed. “I’d feel horrible if my kin just left me.”
“It’s not the kindest thing, Rhi, but trust me when I say, it was in Frederik’s best interest. My own father did it to me when I was barely ten winters old. He left me with Meinhard’s father for what he said would be a few days.... I didn’t see him again until I was nearly ninety. And you know what? Best thing that ever happened to me. And I’m guessing Frederik being here . . . best thing that ever happened to him, too.”
“Perhaps, but Auntie Dagmar was not happy.” She dropped her voice to a whisper, although he didn’t know why she bothered, with all the screaming coming from below. “She yelled something about the illiterate boy and Frederik was standing there!”
“Oooh. That’s not good.”
“I don’t think she meant it as it sounded, but you could tell it probably bothered him.”
“Probably.”
“But before anyone could apologize to him, Keita said something about whoring Izzy out and it was all downhill from there.”
Ragnar nodded, looked off.
“It’s all right to laugh,” Rhi said. So he did.
“I love that female!”
Rhi joined him. “I know.”
“What would possess her?”
“She seemed to think it wasn’t as bad as what Auntie Dagmar said. Mum didn’t agree. They’ve been at it ever since. Izzy’s been trying to calm everyone down.... It’s not working.”
“Should I go and help?”
“I wouldn’t.” She reached over and picked up a small tray. “One of the servants brought me cheese and bread. Here. Have some. I find it makes the viewing even better.”
“I agree.” He chose a slice of cheese and a slice of bread to put it on. “Now all this drama aside, how are you doing?”
Rhi sighed and turned her head to look at him, resting her temple against the wood bar. “Not as well as I’d like, Uncle Ragnar. I think . . . it’s time.”
“I think you’re right.”
“They’ll never agree.”
“But your sister’s here now. Maybe she can help.”
“Perhaps.” Violet eyes lowered. “But I’m afraid.”
“I know, Rhi.”
“At some point . . . I much fear I’m going to end up killing someone.”
Yes, Ragnar thought. You probably will.
While Izzy struggled to calm down her mother and Keita, Éibhear turned around and escorted Frederik outside to the stairs. He crouched in front of the boy.
“I need you to do me a favor.”
“It’s all right,” the boy said. “I knew they were planning this. At least I guessed it. I just feel bad for Aunt Dagmar.”
“Don’t. She’s got a lot on her mind. I doubt any of this has to do with you at all. But I do need you to check on something for me. My three friends, I haven’t seen them since last night. Can you go into town and find them for me?”
He nodded and Éibhear gave him a leather bag with some gold coins.