Authors: G.A. Aiken

The Dragon Who Loved Me (21 page)

Chapter 20

They were supposed to be sleeping. Mommy wouldn’t be happy if they weren’t sleeping. But it was all so fun! Like a picnic . . . in the dungeon! So how could they sleep? Instead they stayed awake and talked. Not out loud, though. Mommy wouldn’t like it if they were chattering away. That’s what she called it when others did it. Chattering.

So they talked to each other just by thinking. They did it all the time. It was fun!

They were so busy chattering and thinking and having fun that they almost didn’t notice. But her cousin Tally did. Tally noticed everything first. “She’s your first line of defense,” their friend said about her. They had lots of friends. Friends Mommy and the others could never see. Except Auntie Dagmar, but she was never around when their friends visited. Not since that first time one of their friends had come to see her and Tally and Talan. She’d still been in her crib then. Not in her big-girl bed. And Auntie Dagmar had been so angry at their friend, he never came back while she was around. None of their friends did. They were afraid of Auntie Dagmar—but they pretended they weren’t. But when they did come, they were all pretty and shiny, glowing like bright lights in the dark. Sometimes she had to look away, it burned her eyes.

But those creeping in through the back door, they weren’t pretty and shiny. They were bad. They hurt the two guards watching the door while the witches had gone to investigate noises in the other hallway. With all the fighting outside the castle walls, the witches didn’t think there was any real danger
inside
. But there was. There was danger and there would be until Daddy was home. Daddy and the others.

Tally got to her knees. Tally hated outsiders. Even worse, she’d liked those guarding the door. They were pretty too, but without the glowing. Tally liked pretty. But she didn’t like these men creeping in. She didn’t like them at all. And if she didn’t like them, Talan wouldn’t like them either.

These bad men would move fast and quiet, not even waking the dogs, sacrificing themselves to hurt her and Tally and Talan. She didn’t know why. What had she ever done? What had Tally and Talan ever done?

Tally, as always, moved first. Without a sound, she charged forward. The men didn’t see her coming. They didn’t expect her. She was too little, they’d say. Just a little girl. But Tally landed on the back of one of the sleeping dogs that they played with every day, and launched herself up, spun, and rammed her sword into the chest of the first bad man. Tally released her grip on her sword and dropped to the ground, and the man fell back into his friend. That’s when Talan threw his own sword, hitting the second man in his open mouth with it. Good thing, too, he was about to wake everyone up. Then Mommy would be upset. She’d cry and they’d have to go far away.

The men weren’t moving now. None of them were. Not the bad men or the nice soldiers who made her smile and let Tally hit their shields with her sword.

She didn’t want to see this anymore. She didn’t want Mommy upset. When Mommy was upset, it made her sad. So she opened what Pretty-Ren called a “doorway” and sent the bad men back to their friends outside the castle gates and the nice men back to the nice soldiers who would take care of them. It wasn’t a hard thing to do. Opening two doorways at the same time and making them all go away so no one would be sad. She wasn’t sure why it wasn’t hard for her because Pretty-Ren always acted like it was so hard.

But then her cousins turned and glared at her.

Our swords?
Tally snapped inside her head.

Even though she wanted to cry, she knew Tally hated criers. So she did what Mommy always did when she passed some of the witches. Raised two fingers and flipped them up in the air.

“Are you three up?” Ebba asked. She’d also been asleep in the room. She could sleep while standing. Just like real horses!

Rhian wished she had four legs and hooves, too. Then she could run with the big horses and play in the sun all day.

“Back to sleep, little ones, before Talaith has my head.” Ebba smiled at them and put them back to bed. Ebba was always so nice, even when she was angry.

Once she had them down, Ebba went back to the other side of the room and all her books. Ebba loved to read. Once she was gone, Tally snapped,
Now what are we going to do without our swords? What if we’re attacked again? You’re hopeless!

That made Rhian mad so she punched her cousin right in the arm, which only made Tally roll her eyes and turn over, pulling the blanket over her head. And Talan was already asleep. He could sleep through pretty much anything.

But now that no one was speaking to her anymore, Rhian was able to get some sleep too.

The commander of the mighty Horsemen of the Western Mountains discussed with his men their next plan of attack. He wanted this place pulled down stone by stone in the name of their horse god. If the Southland queen ever came back here—and that was doubtful—he wanted to make sure she found nothing but rubble and the bodies of her friends and family.

He was debating with his men about a possible weakness on the south wall when a bright flash lit up behind him. He and his men lifted their heads and, slowly, turned.

The two assassins—two of his best—whom he’d sent in to find and kill Annwyl’s demon children only a few hours before, were now lying in a heap behind them.

His next in command walked over to the bodies and pulled the small-sized weapons out of the assassins’ bodies. He held them up. They were clearly swords rather than daggers, which led his next in command to ask, “They’ve got centaurs
and
dwarves in there?”

Chapter 21

Rhona was impressed when Vigholf ended up eating the fruit rather than chucking it back at the horse.

Those two would never be friends, but what was the point of wasting food?

And, as she’d feared, Vigholf was one of those who was always hungry after fucking.
Like feeding an empty pit
.

He handed her a piece of bread, and Rhona was at least grateful he was good about sharing.

“We need to do something about our hair,” Vigholf suddenly announced. It seemed an odd thing to say with the pair of them sitting on the bedroll, naked.

“What?”

“We’ve got warrior braids in. Sovereign soldiers’ hair may be too short for that, but they’ll notice it on others.”

He had a point.

Rhona shoved the last bit of bread into her mouth and wiped one hand against the other. “I’ll do yours first,” she said while she crawled around behind him. Resting on her knees, she grabbed a plait in her hand and began to unbraid it. As she finished more and more of them, she ran her hands through his hair, enjoying the way Vigholf relaxed against her each time she did.

It took some time, but it was a smarter way to go if they hoped to be even remotely ignored as they moved farther along the road and neared the Provinces.

“Your turn,” Vigholf said, pulling her around and placing her in front of him.

To her surprise, he managed to unbraid her hair without any help. To be honest, she wasn’t sure his fingers were nimble enough, but she was learning his fingers were quite . . . adept.

She laughed a little, and Vigholf asked, “What?”

“Nothing.” Rhona rested her arms on Vigholf’s knees, but his legs were so long that when he bent them her arms were too high, so she stretched them out wide and placed them on either side of his hips. It felt kind of decadent, lounging around like this while in the lap of her once sworn enemy. She liked it. She liked being a bit decadent.

Rhona patiently waited for the Northlander to finish with her hair, noticing how what he was doing felt more intimate than what he’d done to and with her body.

“Do you ever let your hair grow past your shoulders?” he asked.

“Not really. When it’s too long, it’s too easy to turn my own hair against me during a close-in fight. But I can’t keep it as short as my Aunt Ghleanna’s, though. She has the face for that, I don’t.” She patted her cheeks. “No sharp cheekbones like her.”

“But you have dimples.”

“Quiet.”

“You do.”

“I know, but be quiet anyway.”

He chuckled, his fingers brushing against her throat as he picked up each braid. When he was done, he ran his hands through her hair and Rhona let out a deep sigh.

“You all right?” he asked while gently massaging her head. Something no one had ever done for her before.

“I’m what one might call . . . perfect. At the moment.”

He kissed her throat. “Good.”

Rhona closed her eyes, already planning their day tomorrow. So much travel, in dangerous enemy territory, in search of a mad queen. Not exactly what she’d consider a fun time for anyone. And yet . . .

“I’m glad you came with me.” She looked at Vigholf over her shoulder. “It’s nice someone’s watching my back for a change.”

“I do have your back. You don’t have to worry about that.”

She reached up, slid her hand into his hair, and gripped the strands tight. She pulled him closer and said, “Good. But don’t get in my way.”

“With you constantly trying to impale me with that bloody spear? Not a chance.”

She grinned and kissed him hard.

Aye. She was very glad he’d come with her.

Rhona’s kiss was hard and lusty, surprising him because Vigholf had always wondered if she’d be as military-like in bed as she was in battle. She wasn’t. Not even a little. She took, she gave, and she didn’t hold back. At least not with him. Not when she was busy pushing him to the ground and taking his cock inside her.

She smiled down at him, her brown hair loose around her face, those damn dimples making her look unbelievably adorable.

Vigholf grabbed her hips, the feel of her pussy squeezing and releasing him nearly driving him insane. She rode him with her back arching, her hands gripping his thighs and digging into the flesh. Although she took him hard, she didn’t rush anything. She wanted to enjoy this and he was enjoying her.

He reached up and gripped her breasts, teasing the nipples with the tips of his fingers. Eventually he needed more, and he pushed himself up, slid his arms around her waist and his mouth around her breast. He lashed his tongue across and around the nipple, then tugged with his lips. Rhona made that little squeal sound again as she wrapped herself around him, holding him tight against her chest.

He continued to suck and tease and nip while she squeezed his cock, tormenting him almost, because it felt so damn good.

Rhona dug her hands into his hair, pinning him to her breast. He gripped the other breast with his hand, the pair of them groaning and sweating even though there was snow under the bedroll they sat upon. If it was cold, they neither felt it nor cared.

Vigholf heard a sob catch in Rhona’s throat, and he rolled her over onto her back, placing his palms flat on either side of her. He plunged into her as her body shook beneath his, the cries of her release echoing out, making the horses restless while they tried to sleep.

He came right after her, the power of it racing from his head to his toes. He roared in pleasure, his body draining into hers, until he could do nothing but drop on top of her, exhausted and sated as he never had been before.

With one good push, Rhona shoved him off, Vigholf groaning when his cock left her.

“You’re not as light as a feather, Northlander.”

“Neither are you,” he said, which not surprisingly got him a punch to the ribs. A deserved one.

Laughing, he pulled Rhona into his arms and held her against him.

After a while, she stated, “We can’t keep doing this, you know.”

He decided not to overreact to that statement and instead asked, “We can’t? Why not?”

“We’ve got to finish all this and get back to the Valley.”

“We will. You act like we’ve deserted everyone.”

“Maybe we have.”

He pulled her in tighter and kissed the top of her head. “There’s no reason to worry. I’m sure they’re all sitting around, immensely bored, waiting for that damn tunnel to be finished, so we can finish the Irons. We’ll be back in time.”

“But—”

“The war’s been at a standstill for five years, Rhona,” Vigholf reminded her. “I doubt they’ll even miss us.”

Ragnar was going over the state of their supplies when Fearghus the Destroyer and Briec the Mighty walked in. Their royal armor no longer glinted shiny and bright as it first did when they’d headed out from Dark Plains that early morning five years ago. Now there were dents on the steel plate, blood in the crevices they no longer bothered to wash away. Briec sported a spear wound to the throat he’d barely survived. Fearghus had a limp that worsened during the winter months due to the spear tip still buried past scale, flesh, and muscle and deep into bone.

“Where’s our sister?” Briec demanded. Ragnar had become used to Briec’s arrogant and rude nature, but that didn’t mean he liked it.

“She’s returned to Dark Plains,” he admitted.

“Alone?”

“With Ren.”

“Why?”

“For her safety.” It wasn’t a lie. He’d agreed to Keita’s return because he knew she’d be safe in the Southlands. But he needn’t mention the rest of it, because Keita, as always—he’d grudgingly learned—was right. They couldn’t afford to lose the soldiers and Dragonwarriors the two Fire Breather princes led, especially since most of the Cadwaladrs would go with them if they returned to Dark Plains to protect the children. For that Clan it was all about protecting their kin, especially the hatchlings.

So Ragnar kept his answers short and vague. It was the safest route when dealing with Keita’s brothers.

Fearghus, the smarter of the pair—or perhaps the more devious—circled around Ragnar.

“She just let you send her back? Without question?”

“Yes. But I’m being careful with what I eat over the next few days.” For good or ill, Keita was known for her vengeful nature and her method of vengeance usually involved slipping certain herbs in the offender’s food. Even if that offender was kin.

“Probably for the best,” Fearghus murmured.

“But why now?” Briec pushed. “Why send her back now?”

“Because we’re almost finished with the tunnel. And once that’s done, we’re not going to wait before we move. I don’t know about you two, but I want this done and the Irons out of our lives for good. Now if you two will excuse me . . .”

“Where’s your brother?” Fearghus asked.

“Which one?”

“The only one that is around you constantly. I’ve seen your cousin Meinhard, but I haven’t seen Vigholf in days. Where is he?”

“I asked him to accompany Keita and Ren.”

“Ren doesn’t need a Lightning for protection. Ren doesn’t need any protection.”

“
I’d
feel safer if my brother was with them. He’ll be back in a couple of days, so I wouldn’t . . .”

Ragnar’s words faded out when he saw Fearghus’s gaze straying to the ceiling.

Briec watched his brother. “What is it?”

Fearghus raised his front claw, lifted one black talon. “Don’t you hear it?”

That’s when Ragnar heard the distinct whistling sound, his body instinctively tightening, waiting for the impact as something large and extremely heavy hurtled into the cave walls.

“Siege weapons,” Fearghus said, before he turned and charged out of the cavern, all of them following.

They pushed past scrambling soldiers and warriors, all of them speeding toward the north side, where a circle of mountains kept the Fire Breathers and Lightnings separated from the Irons.

They made it to the wide cavern opening. The forces that usually protected this important area were diving for cover as giant boulders hurtled over the mountaintops and rammed into their stronghold.

“Pull back!” Briec ordered, grabbing Fearghus by the neck of his armor and yanking him away moments before a boulder crashed where Fearghus had just been. “Pull back!”

Ragnar helped two of his kin to their claws and pushed them toward the entrance. “Inside! Everyone in! Now!”

The air around Ragnar changed and he used his wings to quickly drag his body back, away from the entrance. “
Briec!
” he called out, seeing the boulder hurtling toward the back of Keita’s brother. But the dragon was busy helping others. He didn’t see. And that boulder slammed into the back of the Silver with a mighty force, ramming his big body into the far wall.

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