Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(110)

“How did that happen?”

“Not sure. Brastias was a little vague, but it looks like we’re on the search again. Adding much to Annwyl’s prophecies of doom.”

“There’s no nanny? So you’ve left my perfect daughter—”

“If you call her that one more time…”

“—alone and defenseless?”

“No. Your mother and father are taking care of the children. I think they only come to these things now so that they can take care of the children.

And let’s be honest, my love, our daughter and the twins are hardly defenseless. Although when I find out which one of you idiots gave Talwyn that damn training sword…”

“That idiot would be her grandfather.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” Briec demanded. “All Bercelak gets is an ‘oh,’ but if it was me or Fearghus or, gods forbid, Gwenvael, you’d have torn our heads off and shit down our necks?”

“Yes. There’s truth to that.”

“How is that fair?”

“Because it’s Bercelak. Sweet, caring, wonderful Bercelak, who takes excellent care of his grandchildren and— ow! ” Talaith yelped as her ass hit the floor from Briec standing up and walking away without warning.

But what exactly did she expect?

Sweet? Caring? Bercelak?

Morfyd was debating between several of the sweet desserts when her sister asked, “Sure your hips can afford that, sister? You are beginning to look like Mum from behind.”

Outraged, Morfyd spun around, a huge fireball ready to be unleashed, but Brastias stepped in front of her, his wide back blocking the sight of Keita’s perfect, unmarred face.

“Keita, your Northland guests are beginning to look panicked. You may want to check on them before they run screaming from the building.”

“Honestly,” Keita complained. “It’s only dancing.” Keita went off to rescue the Northlanders, at least one of which she was currently—and stupidly—bedding, and Brastias slowly faced Morfyd.

“Isn’t one slap fight a day enough for even beautiful dragons?”

“She starts it!” Morfyd accused.

“And you let her. Why? When you know she does it on purpose?”

“Because she deserves a good thrashing.”

Brastias leaned in and kissed her forehead, but she got the feeling he only did it to stop from laughing at her. Not that she blamed him. She and Keita were too old for this sort of thing, but there was something about her sister that simply pissed Morfyd off.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his kiss lingering longer than was necessary. Not that she minded. She didn’t mind. In fact, she liked it very much.

“Thank you.”

“Do we have to stay long?”

“No.” She swallowed past the lump in her throat, her eyes briefly closing. “It’s not a feast or anything. Simply an after-dinner get-together.”

“Then why don’t we”—he kissed her cheek—“head up to our room”—he kissed her jaw, her throat—“and retire for the evening?”

“That sounds—” Morfyd almost saw him too late. Gwenvael walking past and spying the pair, his eyes narrowing on Brastias’s back as he watched the couple cuddle. Gods, he was being such a baby about all this!

Gwenvael came to an abrupt stop, and she watched her brother pull air in his lungs to unleash flame at Brastias. Tired of her brother’s ridiculous vendetta against her mate, Morfyd wrapped her arms around Brastias’s shoulders, pulled him in against her with her chin resting on his shoulder, and unleashed the fire ball she’d been planning to use on Keita.

While her brother flew back across the room, she finished her thought.

“Delightful. That sounds delightful. Let’s go.” Ragnar and Vigholf stepped aside, watching the Southlander fly past them engulfed in flames.

Once he hit the wall, they moved together again and focused on the crowd.

“What else have you heard?”

“Lots of talk about attacks on small villages and towns in or near the Western Mountains. They try to make it look like the barbarian tribes, but the troops are finding evidence it’s the Sovereigns.” Ragnar blew out a breath and nodded. “All right. Good work.”

“You sure you’re not just reading too much into those missives?”

“Perhaps, but I’d rather be sure, wouldn’t you?”

“You sure this has nothing to do with your princess? A reason to keep her around maybe?”

“It has almost everything to do with her. But that doesn’t change the fact that if the Irons come, they’ll be coming down through the Northlands.”

“You really think Styrbjörn would be that stupid?”

“Yes. I do.”

“Then I’ll see if I can find out any more.”

“Good. Thank you, brother.”

Vigholf nodded. “There’s one other thing. It may be nothing, but…” If it was nothing, Vigholf wouldn’t bother to bring it up. “But what?” He leaned in closer, dropped his voice even lower. “They say the human queen has been having dreams. About something riding down mountains of ice on horses with eyes of fire, giant dogs with horns running at their side.”