The Dragon Who Loved Me. G.A. Aiken

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      “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. All that heat and dwarves nearby . . . they’ve become excellent blacksmiths and glassworkers over the last millennium or so. He can make all 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, still 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 cock 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 calling 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’ll keep me and Ren safe. Of that I have no doubt.”

      “Well, 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 all 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 all 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 still 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 Valley was much closer to all 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, all the better.

      “All right then. When are we leaving?”

      “Within the hour,” Keita said. “But remember, not a word to anyone.”

      “And you’ll tell me what’s going on once we’re on our way?”

      “I will. Promise.”

      Rhona met the triplets in what they called their “safe place.” The one place their mother would never be seen. In other words . . . the makeshift library.

      She motioned them behind some tall piles of books and took another look around.

      “What’s wrong, Rhona?” Edana asked.

      “Nothing. But I need your word that you’ll not repeat what I’m about to tell you.”

      “Of course not,” Nesta promised. “You know you can trust us, sister.”

      She smiled at the She-dragons whom, with her father, she’d raised. Of all her siblings, the triplets made her the most proud. They’d make mighty warriors one day and even better leaders.

      “I’m off for a few days. Shouldn’t be gone long.”

      “Off? To where?”

      She couldn’t help but roll her eyes a little at Nesta’s question. “To protect the Royal Princess Keita on her way back to the Southlands.”

      Edana frowned. “And we can’t repeat that . . . why exactly?”

      “I have no idea. But Keita was adamant that I could tell no one.”

      “But you’re telling us,” Breena remarked, smirking. “Bad She-dragon.”

      “I know. I know. But this is Keita I’m dealing with. Who the hell knows what she’s up to and why she feels the need to keep it quiet. But I at least want you three to know, in case something happens. Especially if Mum finds out. The last thing I need right now is for her to think—”

      “You’re a deserter?”

      “Exactly.”

      Nesta shook her head. “Mum knows better than that.”

      “Well, she’s a little pissed at me right now. So I don’t want to test her.”

      “Good idea,” Edana agreed. “So where exactly are you taking Keita?”

      “Back to Dark Plains.”

      “Awww,” the triplets said at the same time. “You’ll see Daddy!”

      That made Rhona smile. “Aye. I will.” Her father had been working Annwyl the Bloody’s forge since the war began. It was a huge forge and her father had many talented blacksmiths under him. Some dragon, others human. It was a good place for him to be since he didn’t get along too well with those in Devenallt Mountain, the Southland dragons’ stronghold. He especially didn’t get along with Uncle Bercelak, as those two had never been friendly. “I’ll make sure to bring you a few weapons from his collection.”

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