How to Drive a Dragon Crazy
Page 44
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.”
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.”
