“Not gold.”
“Choke on that coin,” she ordered him.
Vigholf chuckled. “You make it too easy. I could torture you with this all night.”
Rhona tossed the bones of her meal out into the dark forest behind her for any animals that may have use of them and tried not to pout. “Daddy wanted to send me to one of his cousins for an apprenticeship where I could have learned all sorts of things like changing things into gold.”
“But your mother said no?”
“She figured it was a waste since clearly her eldest daughter would be a Dragonwarrior just like her mum.”
“You need to tell her.”
“Tell her? Tell her what?”
“That you want to be a blacksmith. That you want to follow in your father’s footsteps.” He held up the hammer, his appreciative gaze moving over every detail. “That you want to stay in the Northlands after the war is over and make me and mine steel weapons like this. That’s what you need to tell her. What you
should
tell her. As soon as we’re done with this current nightmare.”
She fought hard not to smile, even biting her lip a bit before she said, “So this is all about you then, eh?”
“Not all about me, but my brethren. I’m thinking of the Horde, not just myself. That would be selfish and we of the North are never selfish. We have a Code.”
“And your Code says not to be selfish?”
“Probably. I’ve never been one for a lot of reading and that bloody Code book is
huge
.”
Rhona laughed and Vigholf loved hearing the sound of it. “You’re not like the other Northlanders, you know?”
“You mean serious and boring and patiently waiting for my glorious death on the battlefield? Yeah. I know. But why go through life being miserable? What’s the point of that?”
“There is none.” She yawned. “Guess we better get some sleep. We have a lot of hard riding to do tomorrow.”
“We’re running out of dried beef,” he pointed out.
“Because you don’t pace yourself.”
“I don’t even know what those words mean.”
“I realize that.”
She turned on her side and rested her head on her travel pack.
“Shouldn’t we sleep closer together?” Vigholf asked, working hard to sound at least remotely innocent.
“Why? Because we did it before when I was a bit drunk?”
Well . . . yeah.
“Of course not! For safety. It can get dangerous in these woods at night.”
“How would you know? You’ve never been this far west.”
“True, but aren’t all dark woods near mountains the same?”
“I guess you can sleep over—”
With his travel pack in hand, Vigholf clambered over the fire and settled in right beside Rhona.
“Do we really need to be this close?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“And why is that?”
“Safety.”
“Are you just going to keep throwing that word at me, hoping I’ll ignore the fact that you’re just using any excuse to snuggle up close to me again?”
“Yes.”
She settled down, her back to him. “Well, at least you’re honest. My male cousins would have outright lied.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “
That’s
the Cadwaladr Code, I’m afraid.”
“Which is why I didn’t bother lying to you. You can spot liars a league away.” Vigholf stretched out, his hands behind his head, his eyes gazing up at the stars above his head. “Gods, I’m hot.”
Rhona sat back up, gawking at him. “There’s snow on the ground. I’m wearing a fur cape. I can see my own breath when I talk or just breathe. This is winter here.”
“Northlanders would call this spring. Ice Landers, the Spikes . . . a miserable summer.”
“I have nothing to say to any of that.” She settled on her side again, and after a few minutes, Vigholf turned on his side and put his arm around her, snuggling in close.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Keeping you warm. Don’t want you to freeze in the night.”
“I’m a fire-breathing dragon. I’ll never freeze in the night.”
There was a painfully long pause, and Vigholf expected her to throw his arm off or, possibly, castrate him with her spear. But then she finally admitted, “But you do have an amazing amount of body heat. And my human form does get quite chilly.”
Grinning, he snuggled in closer.
“Don’t get too friendly, Lightning. Just keep me warm. That’s it.”
“It would probably be better if we were both naked and—”
“Not on your life,” she quickly cut in.
“Then how about a kiss,” he suggested.
“I can’t believe the Northland balls on you.”
“We might as well just get it over with.”
“There’s nothing to get over with.”
“We both know you’ll kiss me eventually, Sergeant. I’m irresistible.”
“I’ve been resisting you for five years.”
“Because you’re stubborn and unreasonable. I thought we already established that.”
Rolling to her back so she could look him in the eye, the She-dragon warned, “You just watch where you put those hands and keep your lips and your cock—”
“When did I mention my cock?”
“—well away from me or I’m going to use that ax my father gave you to start chopping things off.”
“Fine, fine. No need to threaten the important bits of me.”
“We have a long trip ahead. I feel it’s good to establish boundaries now.”
“Right. Boundaries. On our long trip together—alone.”
“It can’t be that long, Northlander. We have a war to get back to.”
“And we will.” Vigholf settled down again, tightening his arms around her since she didn’t stop him from doing so. “I doubt it will go on without us. And before you say anything,
yes
, I think we’re that important.”
“Not quite as arrogant as my royal cousins,” she murmured, already falling asleep, “but surprisingly close.”
Chapter 16
Where are you, brother?
Ragnar’s voice in his mind woke Vigholf, and he sat up, yawning, and scratching his head.
Another day and a half from the Western Mountains. Did you contact Keita?
No. I’ve been unable to contact her or anyone at Dark Plains. In fact, I’ve been trying to contact you, but this is the first time I’ve gotten through. I think it’s because you’re neither in Dark Plains nor here. The areas are being blocked from one another, but I’m not sure why or who is doing it.
There’s a problem, Ragnar.
What’s wrong?
The Tribesmen attacked after we arrived,
Vigholf told him, but quickly added,
The Kyvich are guarding the gate and the Cadwaladrs are kicking arse. All’s fine.
What about the children?
Queen Rhiannon was not happy with Keita’s idea, so they’re staying put. But everything is fine, including Keita.
Good, but . . . why are you in the Western Mountains, brother? I know you wouldn’t just leave during an attack.
You’re not going to like what I’m about to tell you.
Tell me anyway.
It’s Annwyl. She’s gone off.
Her nut?
Vigholf chuckled.
You could say that. She’s gone off to find the Rebel King.
Gaius Domitus?
Ragnar sighed.
If that wench is killed and Fearghus finds out we didn’t tell him or Briec about why we originally sent Keita back, giving Fearghus the chance to find his mate himself . . . I’m a dead dragon, brother. You do know that?
We’ll find her, Ragnar. I swear by the gods of war, we’ll find her.
Are you traveling alone?
No. This was Rhona’s mission. I simply tagged along.
Why?
I figured I could do more good here than just being one of the troops at Garbhán Isle.
Is that the only reason?
Ragnar asked, sounding curious.
No. I couldn’t let her go alone.
Vigholf looked down at a sleeping Rhona. She slept on her side, hands tucked under her cheek. She’d let him hold her through the night, and he’d never slept so well before.
I’ve become . . . attached
, he admitted.
And has she?
She will.
And even without being able to see his brother, Vigholf knew Ragnar was rolling his eyes.
How long will you be?
Ragnar asked.
Don’t know. But we won’t be back until we find Annwyl.
But if Gaius Domitus gets his claws on her . . .
Ragnar warned him.
We’re hoping to reach her before she reaches the Rebel King. Stop her and bring her back to the Valley.
Let’s hope you do. Gaius Domitus is not welcoming of strangers.
Neither is Annwyl.
Ragnar chuckled.
You do have a point. But there is something else—in the Provinces. Thracius has a Dragonmage. A formidable one. Avoid him at all costs, Vigholf.
Why?
His power in that region is unmatched and he’ll do whatever he must to protect Vateria.
Vateria? What does Vateria have to do with—
You know Annwyl. I know Annwyl. If she locks on a target in the Provinces, it’ll be Vateria. In her mind, she’ll be the one who will need to die.
But she’s there for the Rebel King, not Vateria.
I have yet to know Annwyl to ever have one simple task, Vigholf. Trust me—she’ll want Vateria dead. But considering the power of her mage, I’m sure Vateria—
—already knows Annwyl’s coming
, Vigholf finished.
Exactly.
Now it was Vigholf’s turn to sigh.
Just wonderful.
Junius opened the door to his lady’s bedchamber. He motioned for his guards to wait outside and entered the room.
He stood well away from the bed and quietly waited. The servant went to her lady’s side.
“My lady?” she said softly. “Lord Junius is here to see you.”
Smiling and stretching, the suns’ rays pouring through the floor-to-ceiling windows illuminating her naked body as she sat up, long silver hair framing her beautiful face, Lady Vateria greeted Junius with a large smile.
“My Lord Junius. What are you doing here so early?”
“We’ll have a visitor soon, my lady.”
“A visitor?”
“Someone I think you’ll be quite pleased to see.”
Vateria, grinning, eagerly slid out of bed, and walked over to him. “Are you sure?”
“Our god is sure, which means I am. I sent word to your patrols in the Western Mountains.”
“Will the messengers reach them in time?”
“I am our god’s chosen mage, my lady. I need no messengers for such a task.”
Although all dragons could communicate with blood kin, at the Overlord’s command and their god’s agreement, Junius restricted that sort of thing within the Provinces. Only the messages
he
wanted to get through were allowed to leave or enter the region. It was how Junius had discovered the rebellion growing within the Iron ranks and was able to nearly snuff it out. Although not completely finished with that situation, it was totally under control. And it would stay that way.
“Of course, of course.” She stepped closer to him, her excitement making her eyes bright, her nipples harden. “Could she truly be so foolish as to come
here
?”
“Desperate, I think is the word you want. Once your father and Laudaricus join forces—nothing will stop them. And chances are this is a test by whatever god is protecting
her
. Annwyl the Bloody will not get what she wants until she comes here and completes some task.”
“You mean like assassinating me?”
“Most likely. But I plan to capture her before that.”
Vateria wrapped her arms around Junius’s neck, meaning he could now touch her as protocol dictated. He did, pulling her close and gripping her ass.
“Another toy for my collection,” she sighed.
“You’ll have to be a little more careful with this one I’m afraid. The humans break much easier than our kind.”
“I know, I know. But I’ve grown bored with the toy I have. I yearn for another.”
“You’ve grown bored, yet you still go to the dungeons to play. Nearly every day.”
Her head dipped and she smiled. “Not every day.” She briefly chewed her bottom lip. “When?” she asked. “When will she be here?”
“Soon, I’m sure. Then she’ll be all yours.”
Vateria went up on her toes, kissed him. “You do so endlessly please me, my lord mage.”
“Shame your father seems to think that even with my connections and pure Iron bloodlines I’m so beneath you then.”
“Don’t worry about Daddy. He adores me and he always gives me what I want. And now”—she led him to her bed—“
you
can give me what I want.”
“Morning!”
Rhona growled and covered her head with her arms. “Go away.”
“We must get on the road, female. Now rise and bless me with your presence.”
Laughing, despite her annoyance, Rhona let the Lightning pull her to her feet. But Vigholf was an extremely strong buck of a dragon and he yanked Rhona up and right into his chest, their bodies slamming together, startling them both. The pair stared at each other until Vigholf’s gaze moved over her face, finally resting on her mouth. She remembered his push for a kiss the previous evening, and she knew he was thinking about that now. But was he truly attracted to her or was she simply available? And even worse . . . why the hells did she suddenly care? She shouldn’t care! She should be punching that look off his face before he did something stupid, like actually kiss her.
Gods! Her own weakness annoyed her.
Rhona pulled her arms from Vigholf’s grasp but tried to keep things light. “It’s too early for you to be this extremely ridiculous.”
“It’s never too early,” he joked, stepping away from her. “Now, did you sleep well?”
She stretched her shoulders, desperately trying to forget how well their bodies fit together in that brief moment. “I did.”
“So did I. I think we’ll need to sleep together tonight to ensure that restfulness stays the same. It’s in our best interest.”
Shaking her head, Rhona walked around him. “I need food.”
Vigholf examined the hills. After a moment, he unleashed a bolt of lightning and a ram with several burn holes in its side tumbled down the hill and landed at Rhona’s feet.
Grinning, Vigholf said, “Food.”
Keeping her laughter in, Rhona nodded. “Thank you.” She adored how proud he looked.
“Welcome.”
They ate and walked, the horses following behind them.
“I heard from my brother this morning,” Vigholf said.
“Was he angry?”
That was
not
the question Vigholf had expected her to ask. “About?”
“That you haven’t returned. That you’re not on your way back to Euphrasia readying your troops to destroy the Irons. That you’ve foolishly followed me on a death march after an insane monarch.”
“Uhhhh . . . no. None of that seemed to bother him. In fact, he understood.”
“Understood what? That you have this rabid desire to protect every female you’ve come in contact with?”
“Actually . . . yes. Yes, he does understand that.”
Rhona laughed and bit into another piece of meat.
“You should be more positive about all this,” he told her. “I’m sure it’ll all work out fine.”
She stopped and gazed up at him. “Why would you think that?”
“One of us has to be positive,” Vigholf explained while he kept walking. “Or we’re both dead.”
Keita gratefully took the goblet of wine her friend offered her and moved over a bit so that he could sit down beside her, their backs against the wall of the staircase that led to the castle bedrooms.
“It’s disturbingly quiet, my friend,” Keita remarked after sipping her wine.
Ren nodded. “I know. The Tribesmen would have had these territories well scouted before they came here. They will hide someplace and ready for their next attack.”
“We should have taken the children, these idiot witches be damned,” she said again, earning her a glare from one of the nearby Kyvich. Keita’s response was to stick her tongue out at her like a three-year-old.
“I could have gotten past the Kyvich, I think,” he reasoned. “But not your mother. And you won’t like hearing this, but I think she had a point. Run now, and the children will be running forever. Might as well teach them now to make a stand.”
“But if something happens to them and I didn’t warn my brothers . . .”
“The children will be fine. They couldn’t be better protected.”
“I guess.”
“What else bothers you, Keita?”
“I’ve tried to contact my brothers, just to—”
“Check on Ragnar, who you are deeply in love with but still refuse to admit it?”
“Whatever. But they don’t respond.”
“I think we won’t be hearing from them until this is all over.”
Keita looked at her friend. “Why do you say that?”
“From the beginning, before the children were even born, the gods have been involved with this family, Keita. I don’t know why you all seem to fascinate them so, but there you have it. And I think cutting off lines of communication between us keeps this rolling along.”