Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(102)

Dagmar gazed over Keita’s shoulder at Ragnar. “Have you been putting up with this for the last few days?”

“Yes.” He frowned. “I’ve been enjoying it, too…. That’s not a good thing, is it?”

“Don’t worry,” Dagmar told him. “It only hurts a little in the beginning.”

Ren of the Chosen Dynasty stepped into the Dragon Queen’s chamber. She smiled at him, showing many rows of fangs, and gestured him over with a wave of her claw.

“Hello, my friend.”

He rose up on his hind legs, then dropped to one knee and bowed his head. “My queen.”

“Oh, for the sake of the gods, Ren. Who’s that performance for?” Ren sat back on his haunches, tossed the fur that fell into his eyes. “I like to err on the side of etiquette, Rhiannon.” She laughed and waved her claw again. This time, it released a collar she wore, the chain that was linked to it, attached to a wall. It was a game the queen and her consort played. A game Ren never questioned. Mostly because it was none of his business, but also because what went on between the pair was something pure and white hot. And, to Ren’s kind, explained how things had changed so much among the Southland dragons of the west.

Only a love like that of Rhiannon and Bercelak could transform everything the dragons of this land had known.

“You summoned me?”

“I did.” She sat down and patted a spot next to her on the slab of rock.

Of course, this was not her official throne. That was in another cavern that had room enough for the Elders. Nor was this her bedchamber. It was, simply, the Queen’s Chamber, where many world-altering decisions often took place.

Ren sat down, and the queen said, “I want to thank you for watching out for my Keita. Being good at what she does makes her a target, and knowing you’ve often supported her has brought me great comfort.”

“Excuse my boldness, but I didn’t think you gave two shits what your whore daughter did. Or were those not the exact words you said to her sixty-eight years ago—correct?”

“I won’t explain the relationship I have with my daughter to anyone.

Not to you—”

“Not to her.”

“Not to anyone. What I do and why I do it, is mine to know and understand.”

“I see. Then perhaps we should address what you want with me.”

“I need you to head west and—”

“No.” Ren shook his head. “I’ll not leave so you can have Keita at the will of that Northlander.”

“He worries you.”

“He was able to hurt her when no male I’ve known has ever managed before.”

“Which means what to you?”

“That she’s vulnerable to him. I don’t like it.”

“It’s not yours to like or not like. Keita may be vulnerable to him, as you put it, but I have no doubt that will only make it harder for him to get near her. But separating you two isn’t my goal here.”

“Then what is your goal? What can only I help you with?”

“I need you to look into something for me.”

“Which is?”

She tossed something at him, and Ren caught it in his claw. He studied it. “A gold Quintilian coin.”

“A Sovereign coin. There is a difference.” He knew that. A Quintilian coin could be found anywhere and was used throughout the lands. A Sovereign coin, which held vastly more value because it was pure gold, was only found in the Quintilian empire and usually only among the nobles. “It was found buried under the remains of another town destroyed by what we had believed to be one of the barbarian tribes.”

“But you no longer think it’s the barbarians?”

“Whoever is doing this kills everyone and take no slaves. Barbarians of the Western Mountains always take slaves. That’s how they make their money.”

“You truly think it’s the Sovereigns?”

“I know it’s the Sovereigns. But I need hard proof. Not only for the Elders, who have never felt good about my alliance with the Lightnings, but for my offspring. They think I only want war.”

“Don’t you?”

She threw her claws up, reminding him of her daughter. “Yes! But only with those I know I can destroy—and that, my friend, is not the Irons.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

“You are a Protector of the Throne?” Dagmar nodded at Keita’s admission, and leaned close to Gwenvael. “What is that exactly?” It was so rare that there was something— anything! —his mate did not know, he would admit he took a moment to enjoy the sensation. Until she said, “Well?”

“They’re like…special agents to the throne, I guess.”

“You mean spies?” Dagmar asked, focusing on his sister. “You?

You’re a…spy?”

“I prefer Protector. Spy sounds so sordid, don’t you think?”

“You? ” Dagmar said again, forcing Gwenvael to bump her with his hip. So far Keita seemed to like Dagmar; he wanted to keep it that way. He’d ended up on the wrong side of Keita’s rage more than once, and spending three days doing nothing but vomiting up whatever she’d slipped into his food or wine was not a fate he’d want his lovely mate to endure. “It’s just…