Dragon Kin: What A Dragon Should Know Part 53

She peeked at her mother and when Talaith blew her a kiss, her grin grew much wider. "It's getting better."

Chapter 34.

Ragnar stepped past the doorway, the afternoon suns blazing down on his head. The Southland Dragon Queen stood next to him. They'd made their deal, and now the hard part would begin.

"Back to the Northlands, then?" she asked.

"Yes. I have many arrangements to make."

"And your father?"

"Will be a problem, but not my only one. There are others who hope to rule as well. They'll need to be dealt with." He exhaled. "But first ... my father."

And that's when the land shook as Olgeir the Wastrel crash-landed in the middle of the courtyard.

"Sorry," someone yelled from above. "Lost me grip!"

That Gold dragon he'd sent Dagmar off with dropped to the ground beside the corpse. "It's all right," he called back up. "You didn't hit anyone."

The Gold lowered himself to the ground and three females slipped off his back, one of them Dagmar. Ragnar was so relieved to see her, he didn't have words.

The Dragon Queen's children rushed from the Great Hall to the courtyard stairs. "What the h.e.l.l is this?" the arrogant, silver-haired one demanded.

A young girl pointed excitedly at Olgeir's body. "Daddy! Look what Mum and I did!" She held up Olgeir's horns. "And Addolgar gave me these! He said I could wear them on my helmet as a sign of honor!"

Bercelak the Great leaned against the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. "This is awkward," he said with a definite smirk.

The girl stared up at Ragnar, suddenly asking, "Do you know him?"

Rhiannon leaned forward and whispered quite loudly, "Its his father, dear."

Horrified, she said, "G.o.ds. I'm so sorry."

The other human female, browner than the first but smaller, pushed the girl toward the stairs. "Let it go, Izzy."

"I didn't know." The girl held up his father's horns when she reached the step Ragnar stood on. "Do you want these back? Or his tail?"

"Izzy!" The woman pushed her into the Great Hall. "Stop talking."

"And what have you been up to?" the Silver snapped at the females. "First you don't want her fighting at all, and now you're throwing her into battles with this idiot's father!"

"Don't yell at me! It's not like we had a choice!" She nodded at Ragnar. "Sorry about your father." She marched into the Great Hall. "And just shut up about it, Briec!"

"I will not!"

The Gold s.h.i.+fted to human and brazenly walked naked up the stairs past Rhiannon. "Mother of my heart!" He stopped by Ragnar. "Liar monk."

"Ruiner."

He glanced back at Dagmar who was making her patient cautious way up the stairs. "Go near her," the Gold said low, "and I'll let Talaith and Izzy do to you what they did to your father."

Ragnar raised a brow as the Gold slung his arm over Bercelak's shoulders.

"Father! I need to fill you in on a new fighting technique I've discovered. Come. Let me tell you all about it."

Ragnar smiled down at Dagmar. Her simple grey gown was torn, dirty, and covered in soot. Her spectacles were frighteningly dirty and one side of her face had sc.r.a.pes. She'd never looked happier.

"Spot of trouble?" he teased as she climbed the stairs to him.

"A bit. Sorry I missed the meeting. But I'll do what I can as things progress though"-she reached up and tapped his chin as she came to a stop before him-"betray me again at your own peril, Horde dragon." Panting, exhausted, she still managed a smile. "I know Brastias thought my little trap was a waste of time. Now I can tell him it's not. I just have to make sure to account next time for the fire-lightning dynamics."

"What have I always told you, Lady Dagmar?"

She rolled her eyes. "Every action has a positive reaction-blah, blah, blah." Dagmar winked at the Dragon Queen. "Don't worry, though, Majesty. The Cadwaladrs are putting out the forest fire as we speak."

"Forest fire?" Rhiannon immediately went on her toes and tried to look over the buildings.

Deciding it was best to be on his way, Ragnar headed down the steps, the voice of the queen's consort bellowing behind him, "You grabbed his what?"

Yes. It was definitely time to get back to his people. The Northlanders had the usual problems-hate, violence, betrayal. But give him that over this oddness any day.

Walking past his father's body, Ragnar kept his gaze forward and didn't bother to look at the old dragon once more. It wasn't easy, but he was a Northlander in southern territory-he'd never show them how much it hurt to see a once-great dragon warrior like this. And felled by human females, no less. Yet the pain Ragnar felt wouldn't change anything. His father was gone and Ragnar's work was far from over. He still had those loyal to his father and those who would now want control of the Horde to contend with. Yet, knowing he wasn't the one who'd had to take his father's life did ease him in many ways.

Going on foot as human, Ragnar took his time walking his sorrow out so that as he neared the cave where his brother and cousins waited for him he felt much better. Then he caught movement from the corner of his eye and turned, instantly s.h.i.+fting to his dragon form and lifting his claws, a powerful spell on his tongue. But those brown eyes caught him off guard, momentarily stunning him as they'd done to him again and again since he'd caught her in his net. And because he was so trapped by those d.a.m.n eyes, he didn't see that tail until it rammed full strength into his chest, barely missing his heart and several major arteries.

She stepped into him, the tail forced in deeper, pus.h.i.+ng him back until he hit a tree.

Ragnar gritted his teeth, refusing to let her know exactly how much pain she was causing.

A lock of dark red hair fell across her forehead as her tail pushed in one last time before ripping out of him.

A single, strangled sound of pain escaped past his clenched fangs and he bent forward. Blood poured to the ground, but she hadn't wounded him enough to kill him. And, even bleeding as much as he was, he could still destroy her. For he was a battle mage of great power. Trained in the arts of claw-to-claw combat, weaponry, survival tactics, and warfare spellcasting, Ragnar was unfazed by most that life had to offer.

Until her. Until Keita the Viper.

To say they hadn't gotten along on their trip to the Southlands would be an understatement, and when he'd released her before the two suns rose, he truly never thought he'd see her again. For once, apparently, he'd been wrong.

And, more importantly, she was much braver than he'd given her credit for.

"Was it something I said?" he called after her as she stalked off into the trees, gone from his life forever ...

He could only hope.

"You're still talking," Talaith complained. The warm cloth pressed over her face, although soothing, couldn't manage to block out the voice of her mate.

"d.a.m.n right, I'm still talking," he shot back. "It's bad enough you decided to play Lady Danger with a Lightning, but then you involved my daughter. Unacceptable!"

Talaith s.n.a.t.c.hed the cloth off her face and glared across the too-small tub. She once had a bigger one, but she'd switched it out for the smaller one in the hopes of getting to do this sort of thing alone. And yet somehow Briec always managed to force his big dragon a.s.s in with her. Nor did it help that he insisted on doing very distracting things with his toes. How could she stay angry or order him to leave when he kept touching her in a completely inappropriate and yet enjoyable way?

"We had little choice. I didn't see you running in to protect us, Lord Arrogant!"

"And what? You thought Izzy could take care of herself?"

"Of course I thought-" Talaith cut herself off, her eyes narrowing to slits on the smug b.a.s.t.a.r.d ma.s.saging her feet while he tricked her. "b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

He rubbed a particularly sensitive spot on her instep. "You have to let her go."

"Don't you think I know that?" And she truly did know that. Talaith also knew she couldn't make up for sixteen lost years in seven months. She'd missed her child growing up and nothing would change that. Holding her back now would only put a wedge between them. She wouldn't allow for that.

"Then let her go to the west." She opened her mouth to instinctually protest, but he kept going right over her. "The Forty-Fifth Legion is swapping out with the Eighteenth. Izzy can go with the Eighteenth and have my kin to protect her. And unlike the Forty-Fifth, the Eighteenth was trained by Annwyl herself. They're good fighters and very loyal to each other. Izzy will do well there."

"You've worked this out quite well, I see."

"I've learned that in order to hold my own with you in a fight, I must see every potential argument you could come up with, expect the most irrational decisions based on that and ... uh ... have all my ... uh"-he looked up at the ceiling, trying to remember-"oh! All my dogs in a row."

"Dogs?" That tricky viper! Working behind Talaith's back, was she?

Talaith yanked her foot from Briec and stood.

"Where are you going?"

"To kick some Northlander a.s.s!"

"Oh, no you don't." He grabbed her forearm and easily held her in place. "My brother is about to become well and truly trapped by the most devious of females-I'll not have that ruined by you."

"The love you have for your kin never ceases to amaze me." She slapped at his hand. "Now let go. Let go!"

He didn't; instead, he studied her hip. "Where did you get that bruise? From your fight with Olgeir?"

Talaith looked down at her naked body, holding her wet hair off her face. "Some soldier slammed into me earlier today. It's nothing. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to show someone her teeth after I punch them out of her mouth!"

His grip only tightened as Briec got to his knees in front of her.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting a closer look."

Talaith smirked. "That is not where the bruise is, Briec."

"Close enough."

Bercelak walked into the alcove of his eldest son's lair. The babes were alone in their crib, the boy asleep and the girl wide awake and scowling. Keeping his dragon form, he moved in closer, staring down at the babes. He hadn't spent any time with them after their birth, too busy handling defenses with his siblings.

Although that wasn't the full truth. In all honesty, he hadn't really known what to do with them. He'd always felt following the mandatory rule of his kind to never eat children was rather big of him and more than enough. And though he was glad the babes were in excellent health, he wasn't sure what to think or do with two human children.

Scowling himself, he leaned in closer to get a better look. He'd been told by his sons that the babes were much larger than most human children so recently born, and were quite advanced. But Rhiannon had been quick to a.s.sure them all that the twins wouldn't suddenly spring to forty winters. Advanced, they may be, but still mostly human.

Mostly human. What would he do with "mostly human" offspring?

Again Bercelak leaned in, until this time his snout was almost in the crib with the twins.

That's when the girl reached up and with absolutely no fear pressed her tiny hand flat against his snout.

Bercelak felt it immediately-a hard jolt through his system. A hard jolt of recognition.

This was his granddaughter. His blood. He knew it on so elemental a level, it nearly dropped him to his knees. She felt it, too, he knew, when her scowl eased away and she smiled at him.

"How's my darlin' girl?" he whispered, thrilled when she giggled and waved her tiny feet at him.

Bercelak let her tug on his hair with one hand and yank on his nostril with the other while he waved his claw at her and tried to coax her into saying his name.

Mutual scowls returned to grandfather and granddaughter at the exact same moment, however, when they both sensed the presence of another and looked over to see Annwyl the b.l.o.o.d.y standing there-smirking. It was also the moment the boy decided to wake up, take one look at Bercelak, and scream his tiny human head off.

The girl, not appreciating that, punched her brother, who punched her back. They were in a healthy brawl in their crib when Annwyl walked over and yelled, "Pack it in!"

They separated, but not happily.

"Fearghus went out to find them separate cribs. One minute it looks like they're plotting to overthrow the world together, the next they're mauling each other."

"Get used to it. Most twin dragons usually fight their way out of their eggs."

Bercelak stepped back from Annwyl, feeling uncomfortable. He'd always disliked her; he'd tried to kill her once and he'd go to his afterlife remembering what it felt like to have the point of her sword pressed against his underbelly.

And yet, he had to admit at least to himself, his feelings for her had changed somewhat. The problem was he didn't know what to do with that.

"Why are you here?" she asked. At least this time she didn't sound confrontational, merely curious.

"Wanted to make sure you didn't burn to death in the forest fire."

"I thought I smelled something burning."

"And it didn't occur to you to-" He shook his head, pulling back his anger. "Forget it."

"I'm sure I would have found a way out for us somehow."

"Good to know. There's also a feast tonight at Garbhn Isle."

"All right."