Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(137)

Making sure Keita was in the chair and comfortable—Elestren seemingly forgotten at the moment—Bercelak asked Annwyl, “Were they the ones you’d been dreaming about?”

“Aye. It was them. Down to the horses and those bloody dogs.”

“I love those dogs,” Dagmar whispered to Gwenvael. “Think they’ll lend me a breeding pair?”

Bercelak studied Annwyl. “And how did you do then?” Annwyl’s answer was a warm smile that had Bercelak grinning back at her in return, and giving her a proud nod.

That’s when Fearghus stood up, his finger pointing between the two.

“What was that?”

Annwyl quickly looked down at the floor, and their father shrugged.

“What was what?”

“That look between you two.”

“And how did he know she’d been having dreams about violent warrior witches?” Gwenvael asked, ever the instigator, and earning himself a swat to the head from Izzy, who wielded a brush much like she wielded her sword. “Ow!”

“Be nice!”

“You?” Fearghus demanded of Annwyl. “You and my… father?”

“I can explain.”

“How can you explain this? ”

“Maybe we should all calm down?” Morfyd begged.

“Annwyl, answer me!”

“All right, fine!” Annwyl bellowed back at her mate. “You want the truth? I’ve been training with your father every day for the last year! There!

Now you have the bloody truth!”

Keita looked past Annwyl’s brawny shoulders to Ragnar. She loved the adorably confused expression he wore at the moment. His brother and cousin equally lost. Finally he looked at her and mouthed, Training?

Keita quickly pressed her fingers to her lips to hold in the laughter.

“You’ve been training with him all this time,” her eldest brother demanded of his mate, “and you never told me? ”

“Because I knew you’d get upset!”

Keita tugged on her sister’s sleeve. “Can this day get stranger?” she asked.

Morfyd raised a finger. “It’s about to get stranger in three seconds.”

“How do you—”

Keita abruptly stopped talking, the air in the room briefly sucked out then rushing back in as Ren of the Chosen Dynasty’s naked body sprawled in the middle of the floor.

Gwenvael tapped his niece’s arm. “That Ren always knows how to make an entrance.”

Ragnar did not, never would, and wasn’t sure he ever wanted to understand the Southland royals. That being said, he’d come to find them damn amusing, as had his brother and cousin.

Meinhard helped up the Eastlander and handed him some leggings, blocking the view from Izzy, who was trying to see around him for a better look—much to Éibhear’s growing annoyance.

“What news do you have, Ren?” Gwenvael asked while Ren pulled the leggings on.

Meinhard stepped back, and the now-dressed Ren placed his hands on his hips. “It’s as we feared. Thracius readies his Dragonwarriors and his human soldiers for a two-pronged attack on Dark Plains. Bringing his Dragonwarriors down through the Northlands.” Ren focused on Ragnar.

“With the help of your cousin Styrbjörn.”

“I’m not surprised it’s him,” Meinhard remarked.

“It’s a little thing,” Ragnar said, moving to Keita’s side.

Vigholf crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll enjoy opening him up from bowel to throat.”

“And he’ll be sending Laudaricus through the Western Mountains?” Annwyl asked.

Ren nodded. “From what I saw, Annwyl, that human has hundreds of legions at his command. But before any of that happens, Thracius hopes to get Keita on the throne.”

Keita’s sudden burst of laughter startled everyone in the room, and she quickly covered her mouth. “Sorry.”

Ragnar leaned down a bit and studied her. “What are you thinking?”

“According to everyone, I don’t think.”

He straightened up, understanding her far too well these days. “You can bloody well forget that idea!”

Keita looked around the room as if seeing it for the first time. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware I’d entered a new plane of existence where I take someone’s orders other than my own!”

“Yell at me all you want, princess, you’re not doing it.”

“You are calling me prince-ass!”

“She’s not doing what?” Briec asked.

Keita raised her hands to calm everyone, but Ragnar would not be calm about this and let her wiggle her way through.

“It’s actually quite perfect,” she reasoned.

“You’ve lost your bloody mind.”

“Elestren has already done the work for me,” Keita explained. “My face is battered and bruised, I have these awful lacerations that may take entire weeks to heal, and bruises around my ribs. It’s perfect!”

“It’s insane.” And to Ragnar’s shock, that came from Ren. “You can’t really be considering going into Quintilian Province.”

“If I go there now, looking like this, Thracius will gladly take me in.”