The Dragon Who Loved Me
Page 21
“I’ve been fighting with you in battle for five years.”
“Not wil ingly.”
“That’s ox shit. When have I ever said—”
“‘Females . . . fighting by my side?’” Rhona imitated in her low, making-fun-of-Vigholf voice that she used to entertain the triplets. “‘When did the hel s come to earth?’”
He blinked. “Oh. Al right. I may have said those words before, but—”
“But what?”
“But not when it’s been you. I’ve never said those words about you. You’ve impressed me from the beginning.”
“How very big of you,” she snipped, again turning away from him. “You lunkhead.” Rhona took a few steps, but Vigholf cut in front of her. “I’l admit that my opinion of female fighters was that there were none. But,” he quickly added when she hissed, “you and your sisters have changed my opinion on that belief. Shame I can’t say the same about you believing al Northlanders are barbarians.”
“You are al barbarians.”
“Even Ragnar?”
“Wel . . . no. But he’s different. Special.”
Vigholf ’s left eye twitched and she suddenly felt fear for Ragnar’s safety. But, after a moment, Vigholf went on. “And has any of my brethren tried kidnapping one of you, forcing you into a Claiming?”
Rhona rol ed her eyes. “No.”
He took a step toward her, slowly closing the gap between them. “Have some of us not proven ourselves to be excel ent strategists in battle rather than berserkers you need to leash between fights?”
“I guess.”
Another step. “Haven’t we been polite and considerate to al the female warriors even when they’re throwing ale, starting fights, and general y being a bit crazed?”
She let out a breath. “Most of you, yes.”
“Then how about giving us a break? Giving me a break?” Another step. “Since we’re al doing so wel , that is.” They were nearly touching now, his grey eyes gazing down at her.
“I have to get this meat to Ren,” she said. “He needs to eat before we can return to the skies.”
“Al right.”
But he didn’t move or stop looking at her that way. She couldn’t explain what that way was—but it was that way. So Rhona forced herself to walk around him and slowly headed back to her cousin and friend.
Although to be honest, she real y wanted to make a run for it. She just didn’t know why.
Chapter 8
Morfyd the White, Eldest Daughter and Third-Born Offspring of Dragon Queen Rhiannon, Heir to the Queen’s Magicks, and Battle Mage for Queen Annwyl’s Army, tracked down her human mate.
She rode her horse around hurrying troops, cooks, riders, scouts, and al the others that made up a human queen’s army.
“Morfyd?” Her human mate, Brastias, general of Queen Annwyl’s army, pushed his men aside to stand by her. “What is it?”
“We move now for the Euphrasia Val ey.”
“So soon? I thought we had a few more—”
“The Sovereigns aren’t pul ing back. They’ve moved out. Heading to the Val ey.” Brastias glanced out over what had been their battleground for nearly five years. His laugh was a little bitter. “I’d hoped they’d been running from our relentless onslaught.” He looked up at her. “But they’re off to help the Irons.”
“Aye. They’re already heading there.”
“You’ve seen it.”
“I’ve seen what the gods have shown me.”
“Could the gods be lying?”
“Of course. But we both know they aren’t this time.”
Brastias nodded. “So we fol ow.”
“Take the Eastern Pass. If I remember the terrain correctly, you’l be able to cut the Sovereign army in half.” He nodded, turned to the commanders of Annwyl’s legions. “We move. Now,” he ordered. “Bring only what each man needs. No more.”
“And Annwyl?” one of the commanders asked.
So Brastias wouldn’t have to lie to his men, Morfyd quickly answered, “I go to her now. But everyone is moving at this moment. Understand?” The commander’s eyes narrowed a bit, but he wasn’t about to chal enge Morfyd. Although her reputation was nothing like Annwyl’s—Morfyd simply didn’t have the body count to her name—they stil knew Morfyd was a She-dragon not to be trifled with.
The men left to get their legions moving and Brastias wrapped his hand around her ankle, sweetly squeezing it.
“Anything?” he asked, his voice very quiet.
“No. Annwyl and the others are blocked from my sight.”
“Also down to your helpful gods?”
“I real y don’t know. The west, past the Aricia Mountains, has always been blocked from my sight and my mother’s. Whether that’s due to the gods or a very powerful witch or mage . . . I do not know.”
“Don’t worry, luv. If there has always been one thing I’ve had faith in, it’s been our mad queen.” Morfyd leaned down in her saddle and kissed Brastias. When she pul ed away, she whispered, “Watch your back, my love. There are always those working against our queen and those loyal to her.”
“Aye,” he answered sadly. “That I do know.”
She left him then, knowing she’d stay behind for a bit. She’d stay behind and wait. Although she had no idea why. And watching Annwyl’s men scramble to head off for more blood and death in battle under Annwyl’s banner, Morfyd realized she no longer had any choice but to do what she’d been resisting since she’d realized Annwyl had gone off with Morfyd’s cousin and niece.
“Not wil ingly.”
“That’s ox shit. When have I ever said—”
“‘Females . . . fighting by my side?’” Rhona imitated in her low, making-fun-of-Vigholf voice that she used to entertain the triplets. “‘When did the hel s come to earth?’”
He blinked. “Oh. Al right. I may have said those words before, but—”
“But what?”
“But not when it’s been you. I’ve never said those words about you. You’ve impressed me from the beginning.”
“How very big of you,” she snipped, again turning away from him. “You lunkhead.” Rhona took a few steps, but Vigholf cut in front of her. “I’l admit that my opinion of female fighters was that there were none. But,” he quickly added when she hissed, “you and your sisters have changed my opinion on that belief. Shame I can’t say the same about you believing al Northlanders are barbarians.”
“You are al barbarians.”
“Even Ragnar?”
“Wel . . . no. But he’s different. Special.”
Vigholf ’s left eye twitched and she suddenly felt fear for Ragnar’s safety. But, after a moment, Vigholf went on. “And has any of my brethren tried kidnapping one of you, forcing you into a Claiming?”
Rhona rol ed her eyes. “No.”
He took a step toward her, slowly closing the gap between them. “Have some of us not proven ourselves to be excel ent strategists in battle rather than berserkers you need to leash between fights?”
“I guess.”
Another step. “Haven’t we been polite and considerate to al the female warriors even when they’re throwing ale, starting fights, and general y being a bit crazed?”
She let out a breath. “Most of you, yes.”
“Then how about giving us a break? Giving me a break?” Another step. “Since we’re al doing so wel , that is.” They were nearly touching now, his grey eyes gazing down at her.
“I have to get this meat to Ren,” she said. “He needs to eat before we can return to the skies.”
“Al right.”
But he didn’t move or stop looking at her that way. She couldn’t explain what that way was—but it was that way. So Rhona forced herself to walk around him and slowly headed back to her cousin and friend.
Although to be honest, she real y wanted to make a run for it. She just didn’t know why.
Chapter 8
Morfyd the White, Eldest Daughter and Third-Born Offspring of Dragon Queen Rhiannon, Heir to the Queen’s Magicks, and Battle Mage for Queen Annwyl’s Army, tracked down her human mate.
She rode her horse around hurrying troops, cooks, riders, scouts, and al the others that made up a human queen’s army.
“Morfyd?” Her human mate, Brastias, general of Queen Annwyl’s army, pushed his men aside to stand by her. “What is it?”
“We move now for the Euphrasia Val ey.”
“So soon? I thought we had a few more—”
“The Sovereigns aren’t pul ing back. They’ve moved out. Heading to the Val ey.” Brastias glanced out over what had been their battleground for nearly five years. His laugh was a little bitter. “I’d hoped they’d been running from our relentless onslaught.” He looked up at her. “But they’re off to help the Irons.”
“Aye. They’re already heading there.”
“You’ve seen it.”
“I’ve seen what the gods have shown me.”
“Could the gods be lying?”
“Of course. But we both know they aren’t this time.”
Brastias nodded. “So we fol ow.”
“Take the Eastern Pass. If I remember the terrain correctly, you’l be able to cut the Sovereign army in half.” He nodded, turned to the commanders of Annwyl’s legions. “We move. Now,” he ordered. “Bring only what each man needs. No more.”
“And Annwyl?” one of the commanders asked.
So Brastias wouldn’t have to lie to his men, Morfyd quickly answered, “I go to her now. But everyone is moving at this moment. Understand?” The commander’s eyes narrowed a bit, but he wasn’t about to chal enge Morfyd. Although her reputation was nothing like Annwyl’s—Morfyd simply didn’t have the body count to her name—they stil knew Morfyd was a She-dragon not to be trifled with.
The men left to get their legions moving and Brastias wrapped his hand around her ankle, sweetly squeezing it.
“Anything?” he asked, his voice very quiet.
“No. Annwyl and the others are blocked from my sight.”
“Also down to your helpful gods?”
“I real y don’t know. The west, past the Aricia Mountains, has always been blocked from my sight and my mother’s. Whether that’s due to the gods or a very powerful witch or mage . . . I do not know.”
“Don’t worry, luv. If there has always been one thing I’ve had faith in, it’s been our mad queen.” Morfyd leaned down in her saddle and kissed Brastias. When she pul ed away, she whispered, “Watch your back, my love. There are always those working against our queen and those loyal to her.”
“Aye,” he answered sadly. “That I do know.”
She left him then, knowing she’d stay behind for a bit. She’d stay behind and wait. Although she had no idea why. And watching Annwyl’s men scramble to head off for more blood and death in battle under Annwyl’s banner, Morfyd realized she no longer had any choice but to do what she’d been resisting since she’d realized Annwyl had gone off with Morfyd’s cousin and niece.
