Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(135)

Ragnar gently kissed her. “I think you’re right.” Blood covering her; her knuckles torn, battered, and broken; her nose shattered; at least one shoulder no longer in its socket; both eyes swollen along with her lips and chin; and nearly every inch of her bruised, Annwyl watched the witches who’d been fighting her back away. They kept backing up until seven of the mounted witches rode past them, the one that she’d pegged as leader in the middle.

Dressed in animal skins and with jewelry made of silver, steel, and animal parts, they truly looked like Ice Land barbarians.

Annwyl looked down and saw her sword. She reached for it, almost lost her balance, but stopped herself. She lifted the sword with both hands, planted her feet firmly, and raised the sword higher, ignoring the screaming pain coming from her damaged shoulder.

The witches pulled their horses to a stop and dismounted. They stayed at least three paces behind the one who led them, stopping completely when she was only a few feet from Annwyl.

They stood and watched her until Annwyl screamed, “Come on then!

Let’s finish this! Come on! ”

The leader’s head tilted to the side. “You can’t win,” she said, her voice soft, calm.

“I’ll kill you, though, cunt. I’ll make sure to kill you. So come on.

Finish it.”

The witch glanced up at the sky. “Your dragon kin are coming. I can hear the flap of their wings. Don’t you want to wait?”

“I wait for no one.” Annwyl tightened her grip, dug her feet in deeper.

“Raise your weapon. Come for me. We end this now.” The leader reached for the sword tied to her back. A long sword covered in runes. The other six—three standing on each side of their leader —pulled their weapons as well. Two long swords, one short sword, one warhammer, two axes, each covered in runes, each held by females who knew how to use them.

With her sword raised, the female walked toward her.

“Annwyl!” she heard Fearghus bellow as he approached.

Annwyl smiled, for she already knew no matter what happened here, she’d meet Fearghus on the other side when his time came. They wouldn’t be apart forever.

Standing right before Annwyl, the witch raised her sword high, point down, and Annwyl pulled her weapon back a little farther, aiming right for the witch’s chest.

The witch’s sword unleashed, Annwyl watched it closely. Watched for the right time to strike, watched for the moment when she’d have her chance to—The sword slammed into the ground in front of Annwyl, and the witch looked first to the left, then the right.

Each witch with her slammed her weapon into the ground, blade or hammer end first. Then they dropped to their knees before Annwyl.

When they were all on their knees, their leader looked back at the legion of warrior witches behind her. As one, those witches dropped to their knees while their horses lowered their heads and their dogs lay down in the dirt.

Unsure what the f**k was happening, Annwyl kept her sword raised.

“What is this?” she demanded.

“We’re here for your children.”

“And you’ll not get them.”

The witch smiled at her. “We’re not here to take them. We’re here to protect them, while you lead your legions against the Sovereigns.” The witch pulled out a blade and cut her palm, stepped forward, and dragged her hand down Annwyl’s face. “Our life and blood for you, Queen Annwyl. I give you my sword.”

“My sword for you,” another said.

“My hammer for you!” another yelled out.

“My ax for you!” another screamed.

Then the entire legion was screaming, committing their weapons, lives, and souls to Annwyl and to her children.

Not knowing what the hell to do, Annwyl looked around her. As the witch had said, her dragon kin dropped from the sky, surrounding them, but it was the warlord’s small daughter she searched out. She was the one Annwyl knew would have the answers. Dagmar stood there among all those enormous dragons, Canute on one side of her and the cutest little puppy on the other. The puppy Izzy couldn’t stop playing with.

Dagmar flicked her eyes toward the castle, and Annwyl took a step back, then another. She lowered her sword, turned, and without a single word, walked off.

Fearghus watched as his mate turned her back on a legion of warriors cheering and screaming.

Izzy, who he’d thought for sure was dead, picked herself up from the ground and walked backward away from them, her weapon retrieved and raised. Her mother did the same thing on the opposite side of the field. They walked away from the warriors they’d been fighting until they were a good distance away; then they turned and followed Annwyl.

“Go with her, Fearghus,” Dagmar whispered to him. “Go.” He did, not bothering to keep an eye on the witches because he knew his kin would.

“We make camp here!” one of the witches yelled over the din. “Burn the bodies, a sacrifice to our gods and Queen Annwyl!” They reached the side entrance to the castle, and Fearghus went up and over while Annwyl, Izzy, and Talaith took the door.

Annwyl was on the stairs when her legs gave way and she dropped.

Fearghus, stepping past Izzy and Talaith, caught his mate in his arms before she hit the ground. He lifted her up and smiled when she opened her eyes.

“Can’t trust you alone for five minutes, can I, wench?” Annwyl grinned, showing bloody teeth but at least all those teeth were there. “They started it, knight,” she teased back.