Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(55)

She swallowed, found her voice. “I know what to do.”

“I know you do. But still, keep your true temper in check and remember who and what you’re playing. A spoiled royal, but one with boundaries. If you act as if you’re willing for them to do anything to get you the throne, they’ll know you’re lying, that you’re setting them up. Let them lead. Let them lie. They’ll tell you what they think you’ll want to hear, but if they bring up your brothers, your sister, definitely your father—you insist they must be kept safe, alive. Feel free to waffle on me, however.”

“Oh, I plan to.”

“Once the traitors contact you, you must contact me.”

“I will.”

“Immediately, Keita. Don’t try and handle this on your own. Not this.

Understand?”

“Aye. I understand. I’m not new to this, Mum.”

“You also need someone to watch your back.”

“Ren’s here with me. He can—”

“I’ll do it,” Ragnar cut in.

Keita ignored her mother’s smirk and said, “I’ve done this sort of thing with Ren for years and—”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he cut in again. “He’s too close to you.

Too close to the throne and your family.”

“He’s right, Keita.”

“Yes, but Ragnar’s an outsider.”

“But the foreigner isn’t?” Ragnar asked.

“Stop calling him that!”

“It doesn’t matter,” Rhiannon said, raising her front claws to calm them. “It really doesn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because Lord Thunderclap is right. You and Ren are too close. Plus they know about the loyalty of the Eastland dragons to the throne and to me.

They know Ren won’t risk his father’s wrath if he’s involved in betraying me. They won’t trust him.”

“Yes, but—”

“And, more importantly, this is Lord Ragnar’s problem too.” Ragnar blinked. “It is?”

“It will be.”

“Threats again, my lady?”

“Not threats, my darling cyclone. But word has come to me that your cousin near the Ice Land borders has been approached.”

“My cousin? Do you mean Styrbjörn?”

“I thought he was dead,” Keita said.

“That’s Styrbjörn the Loathsome. His son, Styrbjörn the Revolting, has since taken over the Borderlands.”

“Such interesting names in the north,” Keita muttered.

“Who has Styrbjörn been approached by, my lady?” And when her mother didn’t answer immediately, Keita focused on her. “Mother?”

Rhiannon cleared her throat. “I believe it is…Overlord Thracius.” Keita dropped back on her haunches, her mind on that damn Sovereign necklace they’d found at Esyld’s. “The Irons?” Keita said, trying to sound disbelieving when she no longer knew what to believe. “You think the Irons are coming after your throne?”

“Why do you sound so shocked? The Irons have wanted this territory and the Northlands for centuries.”

“Then why haven’t they moved before now? What are they waiting for?”

“Thracius is not his father. He won’t make rash decisions. He wants everything in place before he moves. You on the throne, me dead or imprisoned, the Elders in his pocket. If he gets all that, he won’t have a massive war campaign to fight, he’ll have more of an insurgency to tamp down. Something much easier to manage.”

“And I’m sure revenge against Thracius for past offenses has nothing to do with this.”

“A war against Thracius won’t do me any favors.”

“But he killed your father, Mum. You’ve always wanted revenge for that.”

“I have, but protecting my throne is more important than getting even with that bastard. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“You know I do.”

Her mother’s damn smirk returned. “The seal is fading from this cavern, daughter. So decide now. In or out, Keita?”

“You already know my answer, Mother.”

“I do. But I won’t lie, daughter. You’ll be on your own until this is done.”

Stating a simple truth, feeling neither anger nor pride, Keita admitted,

“I’ve always been on my own.”

But then Ragnar, quietly standing next to her, said, “Until now.”

Chapter Fifteen

They heard the yelling seconds before a livid Keita stormed out of the throne room.

“I’m leaving!” she said, coming quickly down the stairs, with Ragnar behind her. “Give my siblings my love.”

“Oh, Keita—” Éibhear began, but his father caught hold of him and held him back.

“You’ll stay,” Éibhear’s mother said from behind Keita and Ragnar,

“because I insist you stay.”

The thin tether that held Keita’s anger in check must have snapped, because she spun on her heel and hissed, “I’ll not stay, you overbearing harpy. And you’ll not order me to.”

“I’ll do any damn thing I want to. I am the queen.”