The Dragon Who Loved Me
Page 12
“Al set,” she said, smiling.
“Good.” Ragnar brushed his claw against her cheek. “I’l miss you.”
“Of course you wil . I’m amazing.”
“You’re leaving now?” Vigholf asked.
“Sssh,” Keita whispered. “Not so loud. We’re doing this quietly.”
“Why?”
“I’l explain it later,” Ragnar said. “Give us a few minutes.”
Vigholf nodded and headed toward the exit. But he stopped, worried. “And your escort is not Éibhear, right?”
“You know, he’s improved greatly in five years,” Keita reminded him, always so protective of her oversized baby brother. Emphasis on the baby.
“Your escort isn’t Éibhear, right?”
Keita let out a breath. “No. It’s not. He’l be staying here with you lot. And I expect you to take good care of him.”
“He’s not alone, Keita.” Ragnar glanced at Vigholf. “He has his brothers to watch out for him.”
“And we al know they won’t!”
Vigholf and Ragnar laughed. It was true. That poor Blue’s brothers were harder on him than any of the Northland dragons ever were, but it was evident Éibhear was starting to get a little tired of it. That is, when he wasn’t too busy fighting with his cousin Celyn.
When Keita began to tap one talon of her back claw against the hard floor, Vigholf stopped laughing even if Ragnar didn’t.
“So who is going with you?” Vigholf pushed, not liking any of this.
“One of my cousins. But, as I said, let’s keep this quiet.”
“Why?”
“Ragnar can explain it later.”
“Why can’t he explain it now?”
“Don’t be annoying, Vigholf.”
“Then answer my question.”
Keita’s eyes narrowed and she took a step forward. To do what, Vigholf didn’t know, but Ragnar held her back by placing a claw on her shoulder.
“Keita and Ren are being escorted by the finest soldier Her Majesty’s Army has . . . Sergeant Rhona.” Vigholf rol ed his eyes. “Her?”
“What’s wrong with Rhona?” Keita snapped.
“If you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I would have said absolutely nothing.”
“And today?”
“She’s overworked and she whines.”
“Rhona? Whine? I didn’t think she even knew the meaning of that word. And why would she whine?”
“Because I broke her precious spear.”
Keita gasped, eyes wide. “You broke Rhona’s spear?”
“It was an—”
“Her father gave her that spear. He made it for her.”
“The blacksmith, yes?” Ragnar asked.
“Uncle Sulien. He used to live in a volcano.”
Frowning, Vigholf asked, “Why?”
“He was born there. His whole family was. They’re Volcano dragons. Al that heat and dwarves nearby . . . they’ve become excel ent blacksmiths and glassworkers over the last mil ennium or so. He can make al sorts of incredible weapons. My father hates Uncle Sulien, though,” she added offhandedly. “Have no idea why. But it’s a deep, resentful hate. More hate than he has for most dragons.” She grinned. “I like him, though. He always brought me warm treats like little lambs or newborn calves, stil bleating away.” Ragnar shook his head. “Lovely.”
“I think you should take someone else,” Vigholf told Keita. “A couple of my cousins should work.”
“Why? What’s wrong with my cousin?” Keita briefly pursed her lips. “Or is the fact she’s lacking a c**k your main problem with her?”
“That sounds amazingly wrong,” Ragnar noted.
Vigholf sighed. “She cries over a broken spear—”
“That a father she adores gave her!”
“—and can any Cadwaladr female say she doesn’t have a cock?”
“Very funny.”
“Besides, you need stronger protection than the Babysitter.”
Keita gasped again. “Are you the one who started cal ing her that? She hates that nickname.” She shrugged. “Although she was my babysitter for a time. When my nanny was off.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Vigholf demanded.
“Not particularly, no. I know Rhona. She’l keep me and Ren safe. Of that I have no doubt.”
“Wel , I do.”
“Then you can go with them.”
Vigholf looked at his brother. “What?”
“If you’re that worried, you go with Keita and Ren.”
“I have a war to fight here.”
“And while we get everything in place and finish the tunnel, you have time to go to the Southlands and get back before you’re even missed.”
“I’m a commander. I can’t just wander off.”
“You’re not wandering off. I’m ordering you off.” Which made Vigholf chuckle until his brother’s glare stopped him.
“Besides,” Ragnar continued. “You can check on Mother.” Their mother, along with al the Northland She-dragons, had been sent to the Southlands for her own safety when they’d moved to Euphrasia. A decision that had confused al the Southland She-dragons. “Can’t they fight?” Bradana had asked. “Most of ’em may be missing a wing, but not their claws or legs.” And although Vigholf could speak to his mother with his mind anytime he wanted, he stil greatly missed her presence. “And wouldn’t you feel better keeping an eye on the sergeant? Just to make sure she doesn’t make any huge mistakes in her overworked, tired state.” His brother did have a point. And it wasn’t like they were in the Northlands. Euphrasia Val ey was much closer to al the borders. They could be in the Southlands and then Dark Plains rather quickly, drop off the royals, and be back in just a few days to finish off the Irons. Yes. That worked. And, while they were traveling, if he could find the Babysitter a new weapon, something a little more . . . appropriate for her age, al the better.
“Good.” Ragnar brushed his claw against her cheek. “I’l miss you.”
“Of course you wil . I’m amazing.”
“You’re leaving now?” Vigholf asked.
“Sssh,” Keita whispered. “Not so loud. We’re doing this quietly.”
“Why?”
“I’l explain it later,” Ragnar said. “Give us a few minutes.”
Vigholf nodded and headed toward the exit. But he stopped, worried. “And your escort is not Éibhear, right?”
“You know, he’s improved greatly in five years,” Keita reminded him, always so protective of her oversized baby brother. Emphasis on the baby.
“Your escort isn’t Éibhear, right?”
Keita let out a breath. “No. It’s not. He’l be staying here with you lot. And I expect you to take good care of him.”
“He’s not alone, Keita.” Ragnar glanced at Vigholf. “He has his brothers to watch out for him.”
“And we al know they won’t!”
Vigholf and Ragnar laughed. It was true. That poor Blue’s brothers were harder on him than any of the Northland dragons ever were, but it was evident Éibhear was starting to get a little tired of it. That is, when he wasn’t too busy fighting with his cousin Celyn.
When Keita began to tap one talon of her back claw against the hard floor, Vigholf stopped laughing even if Ragnar didn’t.
“So who is going with you?” Vigholf pushed, not liking any of this.
“One of my cousins. But, as I said, let’s keep this quiet.”
“Why?”
“Ragnar can explain it later.”
“Why can’t he explain it now?”
“Don’t be annoying, Vigholf.”
“Then answer my question.”
Keita’s eyes narrowed and she took a step forward. To do what, Vigholf didn’t know, but Ragnar held her back by placing a claw on her shoulder.
“Keita and Ren are being escorted by the finest soldier Her Majesty’s Army has . . . Sergeant Rhona.” Vigholf rol ed his eyes. “Her?”
“What’s wrong with Rhona?” Keita snapped.
“If you’d asked me that a couple of days ago, I would have said absolutely nothing.”
“And today?”
“She’s overworked and she whines.”
“Rhona? Whine? I didn’t think she even knew the meaning of that word. And why would she whine?”
“Because I broke her precious spear.”
Keita gasped, eyes wide. “You broke Rhona’s spear?”
“It was an—”
“Her father gave her that spear. He made it for her.”
“The blacksmith, yes?” Ragnar asked.
“Uncle Sulien. He used to live in a volcano.”
Frowning, Vigholf asked, “Why?”
“He was born there. His whole family was. They’re Volcano dragons. Al that heat and dwarves nearby . . . they’ve become excel ent blacksmiths and glassworkers over the last mil ennium or so. He can make al sorts of incredible weapons. My father hates Uncle Sulien, though,” she added offhandedly. “Have no idea why. But it’s a deep, resentful hate. More hate than he has for most dragons.” She grinned. “I like him, though. He always brought me warm treats like little lambs or newborn calves, stil bleating away.” Ragnar shook his head. “Lovely.”
“I think you should take someone else,” Vigholf told Keita. “A couple of my cousins should work.”
“Why? What’s wrong with my cousin?” Keita briefly pursed her lips. “Or is the fact she’s lacking a c**k your main problem with her?”
“That sounds amazingly wrong,” Ragnar noted.
Vigholf sighed. “She cries over a broken spear—”
“That a father she adores gave her!”
“—and can any Cadwaladr female say she doesn’t have a cock?”
“Very funny.”
“Besides, you need stronger protection than the Babysitter.”
Keita gasped again. “Are you the one who started cal ing her that? She hates that nickname.” She shrugged. “Although she was my babysitter for a time. When my nanny was off.”
“Are you even listening to me?” Vigholf demanded.
“Not particularly, no. I know Rhona. She’l keep me and Ren safe. Of that I have no doubt.”
“Wel , I do.”
“Then you can go with them.”
Vigholf looked at his brother. “What?”
“If you’re that worried, you go with Keita and Ren.”
“I have a war to fight here.”
“And while we get everything in place and finish the tunnel, you have time to go to the Southlands and get back before you’re even missed.”
“I’m a commander. I can’t just wander off.”
“You’re not wandering off. I’m ordering you off.” Which made Vigholf chuckle until his brother’s glare stopped him.
“Besides,” Ragnar continued. “You can check on Mother.” Their mother, along with al the Northland She-dragons, had been sent to the Southlands for her own safety when they’d moved to Euphrasia. A decision that had confused al the Southland She-dragons. “Can’t they fight?” Bradana had asked. “Most of ’em may be missing a wing, but not their claws or legs.” And although Vigholf could speak to his mother with his mind anytime he wanted, he stil greatly missed her presence. “And wouldn’t you feel better keeping an eye on the sergeant? Just to make sure she doesn’t make any huge mistakes in her overworked, tired state.” His brother did have a point. And it wasn’t like they were in the Northlands. Euphrasia Val ey was much closer to al the borders. They could be in the Southlands and then Dark Plains rather quickly, drop off the royals, and be back in just a few days to finish off the Irons. Yes. That worked. And, while they were traveling, if he could find the Babysitter a new weapon, something a little more . . . appropriate for her age, al the better.
