Last Dragon Standing
Page 72
Reaching up, she caught hold of Ragnar’s hand and pulled him off toward the gate’s east-side exit. And it wasn’t until they’d gone about twenty feet or so that Keita heard the warlord’s daughter snap, “Canute!” She and Ragnar stopped walking and looked behind them. The dog that had been with Lady Dagmar now stood behind them. He dropped his bone and pushed it toward Keita with his snout. Lifting his massive head, his tongue hanging out, he grinned at her.
“Ohhh,” Keita exclaimed. “Aren’t you sweet?” But before she could pat the dog’s head, Ragnar yanked her away, sniffing in disgust.
“Well, don’t get mad at me,” she argued. “Is it my fault males always want to give me things?”
Chapter Nineteen
Ragnar got as far as a copse of trees outside the fortress walls before he decided to stop and face the princess. She gazed up at him with those brown eyes and asked, “That went badly, didn’t it?” And that’s when the laughter started all over again. So bad, he couldn’t stop. He just sat down in the grass and let the laughter roll right through him.
“It’s not funny!” Keita yelled, stamping her bare foot. “You could have bloody warned me!”
“You didn’t give me or anyone else a chance! I don’t know which was better. The look on your face or the look on hers!” Keita paced away from him, her hands twisting against each other.
“How was I supposed to know that was Dagmar Reinholdt? A warlord’s daughter? I thought she’d be huge! A snarling, snapping hound beast!” Ragnar pushed himself up on his elbows and studied her. She gave a small shrug. “My brother has…interesting tastes.”
She continued to pace. “I feel horrible!”
That surprised him. “You do?”
“Of course I do. I never wanted to hurt her feelings. But with that headscarf, those pieces of glass on her face, and all that grey…how was I to know?”
“Those pieces of glass on her face are spectacles.” Keita, appearing horrified, briefly covered her mouth before asking in a desperate whisper, “She’s blind, isn’t she? I mocked a blind woman!” Laughing again, Ragnar fell back on the ground.
“It’s not funny!” She stood over him, scowling. “Don’t you see? She’s probably crumpled at my brother’s feet right now—sobbing hysterically!” Stretched out on their bed inside their fortress sleeping quarters, Gwenvael asked, “Does this mean I can call you my sassy servant girl now?”
“No, it does not.” Dagmar sat on the edge of the bed and pointed a finger at her dog. “And don’t you come over here. I’m still not speaking to you.”
Whining, the dog lay down on the floor, tucking his muzzle between his paws.
“How about blind slave girl?”
“No.”
Gwenvael moved over until his head rested in her lap. “How about saucy serving wench?”
Dagmar plucked lint off the sleeve of her gown. “All right, but only when we’re alone and you’re naked.”
“Shouldn’t you be naked as well?”
She sighed, in desperate exasperation. “If I’m already naked, then you can’t very well rip off my clothes and demand I service you with my mouth or you’ll bring in your many brutal guards to force me to comply—now can you?”
Gwenvael shivered, his hand reaching up and sliding into Dagmar’s hair before pulling her down to him. “How in all the hells did I forget the best part?”
“I’ve devastated that poor, wee thing and destroyed her will to live.”
“You really have not been in touch with your kin at all these last two years, have you?”
“I was busy!” She paced away from him, returned. “I’ll go straightaway and apologize. It’s the least I can do.” She hadn’t even moved yet, but Ragnar caught her arm. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because you’ll only show Dagmar weakness, and she will prey on that weakness the way one of your relatives is preying on that carcass over there.”
Keita looked off into the east field and raised her free arm. “Hello, Uncle Amhar,” she called out loudly so he could hear her from the distance between them.
The older dragon lifted his head, blood covering his snout and dripping down his fangs. “Hello, my lovely niece! All well?”
“Aye! Enjoy your meal!” She returned her attention to the Lightning at her feet and tilted her head to the side. “You were laughing,” she observed.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you were capable.” Keita sat down beside him, spreading her gown out around her. “So apologizing is out.”
“Definitely. I taught Dagmar well, and she’ll only see your apology as something she can use against you later.”
“Taught her?”
“I’ve known Dagmar many years. I met her when I was traveling through her father’s lands as a monk.”
“How old was she?”
“Ten, maybe.”
“And what, exactly, were you teaching her?”
Ragnar pulled his legs up and rested his arms on his raised knees.
“Please don’t make me destroy…everything.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’ve just known a few dragons who’ve done that sort of thing. They don’t touch their humans until they’re of age, but the grooming starts much sooner.”
“Ohhh,” Keita exclaimed. “Aren’t you sweet?” But before she could pat the dog’s head, Ragnar yanked her away, sniffing in disgust.
“Well, don’t get mad at me,” she argued. “Is it my fault males always want to give me things?”
Chapter Nineteen
Ragnar got as far as a copse of trees outside the fortress walls before he decided to stop and face the princess. She gazed up at him with those brown eyes and asked, “That went badly, didn’t it?” And that’s when the laughter started all over again. So bad, he couldn’t stop. He just sat down in the grass and let the laughter roll right through him.
“It’s not funny!” Keita yelled, stamping her bare foot. “You could have bloody warned me!”
“You didn’t give me or anyone else a chance! I don’t know which was better. The look on your face or the look on hers!” Keita paced away from him, her hands twisting against each other.
“How was I supposed to know that was Dagmar Reinholdt? A warlord’s daughter? I thought she’d be huge! A snarling, snapping hound beast!” Ragnar pushed himself up on his elbows and studied her. She gave a small shrug. “My brother has…interesting tastes.”
She continued to pace. “I feel horrible!”
That surprised him. “You do?”
“Of course I do. I never wanted to hurt her feelings. But with that headscarf, those pieces of glass on her face, and all that grey…how was I to know?”
“Those pieces of glass on her face are spectacles.” Keita, appearing horrified, briefly covered her mouth before asking in a desperate whisper, “She’s blind, isn’t she? I mocked a blind woman!” Laughing again, Ragnar fell back on the ground.
“It’s not funny!” She stood over him, scowling. “Don’t you see? She’s probably crumpled at my brother’s feet right now—sobbing hysterically!” Stretched out on their bed inside their fortress sleeping quarters, Gwenvael asked, “Does this mean I can call you my sassy servant girl now?”
“No, it does not.” Dagmar sat on the edge of the bed and pointed a finger at her dog. “And don’t you come over here. I’m still not speaking to you.”
Whining, the dog lay down on the floor, tucking his muzzle between his paws.
“How about blind slave girl?”
“No.”
Gwenvael moved over until his head rested in her lap. “How about saucy serving wench?”
Dagmar plucked lint off the sleeve of her gown. “All right, but only when we’re alone and you’re naked.”
“Shouldn’t you be naked as well?”
She sighed, in desperate exasperation. “If I’m already naked, then you can’t very well rip off my clothes and demand I service you with my mouth or you’ll bring in your many brutal guards to force me to comply—now can you?”
Gwenvael shivered, his hand reaching up and sliding into Dagmar’s hair before pulling her down to him. “How in all the hells did I forget the best part?”
“I’ve devastated that poor, wee thing and destroyed her will to live.”
“You really have not been in touch with your kin at all these last two years, have you?”
“I was busy!” She paced away from him, returned. “I’ll go straightaway and apologize. It’s the least I can do.” She hadn’t even moved yet, but Ragnar caught her arm. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Why ever not?”
“Because you’ll only show Dagmar weakness, and she will prey on that weakness the way one of your relatives is preying on that carcass over there.”
Keita looked off into the east field and raised her free arm. “Hello, Uncle Amhar,” she called out loudly so he could hear her from the distance between them.
The older dragon lifted his head, blood covering his snout and dripping down his fangs. “Hello, my lovely niece! All well?”
“Aye! Enjoy your meal!” She returned her attention to the Lightning at her feet and tilted her head to the side. “You were laughing,” she observed.
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know you were capable.” Keita sat down beside him, spreading her gown out around her. “So apologizing is out.”
“Definitely. I taught Dagmar well, and she’ll only see your apology as something she can use against you later.”
“Taught her?”
“I’ve known Dagmar many years. I met her when I was traveling through her father’s lands as a monk.”
“How old was she?”
“Ten, maybe.”
“And what, exactly, were you teaching her?”
Ragnar pulled his legs up and rested his arms on his raised knees.
“Please don’t make me destroy…everything.”
“Sorry, sorry. I’ve just known a few dragons who’ve done that sort of thing. They don’t touch their humans until they’re of age, but the grooming starts much sooner.”
