How to Drive a Dragon Crazy (Dragon Kin #6)(80)

Even Dagmar, who tried not to worry about little things since Talaith and Morfyd were so good at that, was concerned. Concerned that Annwyl would be plunging them into a war with the Kyvich. Although now that she thought about it . . . that wasn’t really a little thing, was it?

Rhi charged down the stairs, dressed in a pretty gown, a fur cape around her shoulders and her bag with all her art supplies over her shoulder.

“Good morn, all!” She reached around her mother, taking a loaf of bread. She tore off a piece, shoved it in her mouth, and cheered, “I’m off to draw!”

“Stay near the castle grounds,” Briec ordered. “And away from the Kyvich.”

“I will, Daddy.” She kissed him on the forehead and walked out.

Waiting a few extra seconds, Dagmar nodded at one of the female guards and she followed Rhi out.

Unbeknownst to Rhi, Dagmar always had the girl followed once she was outside the castle gates. She’d tried to do the same with the twins, but the guards kept losing sight of them. Although it took some time for Dagmar to find out about that because the guards had always been afraid to tell her. So, instead, they’d finally told Annwyl and she told Dagmar. She tried not to think too much about the fact that the guards had been less worried about telling Annwyl the Bloody they’d lost track of her children than of telling Dagmar.

While the guard went out the door, Frederik was coming in. Only one of the double doors was open and Dagmar watched the poor boy try to move around the well-armed and well-armored woman. It was kind of like an awkward dance.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, the guard moved back and allowed Frederik through. He came in quickly, heading for the stairs.

“Have you eaten, Frederik?” Annwyl asked him, causing the boy to stumble over his own feet. But at least he managed not to fall on his face.

“Uh . . .”

“That sounds like a no.” She pointed to the table. “Food. You need to eat.”

He walked over to the table, then walked into it, stepped back, then sat down in a chair across from Dagmar.

“Good morn, Frederik.”

He nodded, but didn’t look at her. “Auntie Dagmar.”

Talaith got up from the table and proceeded to get him a bowl of hot porridge and some bread while Annwyl widened her eyes at Dagmar and motioned to Frederik with her head. Dagmar didn’t like to be ordered by anyone to apologize, but Annwyl was queen and since she didn’t stop nodding at the boy, Dagmar could only guess that the monarch was serious.

Letting out a little sigh, Dagmar began, “Frederik, about yesterday . . . about what I said—”

“Good morn, my wonderful family!” Keita announced as she walked into the Great Hall with Ragnar. “How is everyone this beautiful morning?”

“Why are you in such a good mood?” Briec’s eyes narrowed. “Who did you kill?”

Laughing, Ragnar walked around Keita and sat at the table, reaching for one of the platters of meat.

“How dare you?” Keita snapped at her brother. “To suggest that I—”

“Oh, aye,” Annwyl laughed. “Someone’s dead somewhere.”

Keita walked over to Frederik and placed her hands over his ears. The poor thing, he was beginning to look completely traumatized.

“Must you say such horrible things around the boy?”

Gwenvael chuckled. “I very much doubt the boy cares.” He focused on Frederik and yelled, “Do you, Frederik?”

Dagmar glared at her mate. “Why, by all reason, are you yelling?”

He shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“Leave the boy alone.” Keita moved her hands from his head and leaned down, yelling at the boy, “Are you enjoying your time here, Frederik? Is there anything we can do for you?”

Dagmar slammed her hands on the table. “Why are you both yell—”

“That reminds me,” Ragnar cut in, his calm, reasonable voice snapping her back.

“Reminds you about what?”

He reached into his bag and pulled out a book and a small wood box. He walked around to Frederik, moved his porridge out of the way, and put an open book on the table in front of him. “Can you read that?”

“Ragnar?”

He held his hand up at Dagmar, silencing her.

“I can,” Frederik said low. “Just not very well.”

“Right.” Ragnar crouched down next to him and pulled a pair of spectacles out of the box he held. Taking his time, he placed them on Frederik, adjusting them behind the boy’s ears and around his nose. “Now look again.”

The boy shrugged, his gaze moving to the book in front of him. He stared. Blinked. Leaned in a bit. Blinked.

“I . . . I don’t understand.”

“It seems you have the opposite of what your Aunt Dagmar has. She has trouble seeing far distances. You have trouble seeing close up. That’s why you struggle with reading. It probably gave you headaches when you tried to read? Your eyes felt tired?”

“Sometimes.”

“Did you teach yourself not to squint?”

Frederik looked over the glasses at Dagmar. “I used to squint. My father said it made me look weak. So . . . I stopped.”

Dagmar, shocked, focused on Ragnar. “How did you know?”

He shrugged. “It was a guess. And the more Keita and Gwenvael talked to the boy, the louder they became. Before Frederik arrived, they only seemed to do that with you.”