Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(61)

“Now,” Ren said, clearly in no rush with the soldiers currently running for their lives, “are you going to leave your Lightnings all alone? I think Lord Ragnar won’t like that much with him as your great protector.”

“Don’t like the tone,” she sang. “And he’ll have Morfyd to keep him company. They can discuss moving mountains and melting trees with their great skills.”

“I hope you’re not testing him, Keita.”

“Why would I do that?” she said a little too quickly. “Besides, I’d hate to think of my brothers seeing the warlord and his kin before I’ve had a chance to ease the way.”

Thankfully accepting that excuse, Ren asked, “Is it my imagination, little one, or is your family very ‘kill everything first, ask questions later and if we’re in the mood’ types?”

“Some might suggest that…you know, if their victims could speak with their heads lopped off and all.”

So this was her. Morfyd the White.

She was beautiful, as Ragnar had always heard. Although the scar on one side of her face, tore at him. Marked as a witch when the human Southlanders were still doing that sort of thing. It was a weak leader that couldn’t appreciate the power of others. Power that could be used to his benefit. Thankfully, the She-dragon’s blood had helped the scar to fade, but it was still there, clear to Ragnar’s eyes.

Although of royal blood and heir to her mother’s Magickal power, if not her throne, the princess still crouched before Meinhard like any healer and examined his leg. They were right outside the gates that opened to the town of Garbhán Isle, Meinhard sitting on one of the wood benches lining the path that led to the gates, Ragnar and Vigholf standing behind him. Eyes closed, the princess held her hands around Meinhard’s calf without touching it. A true healer, unlike Ragnar, who could mend his brother’s bone, but it would be difficult for him to place it so perfectly that Meinhard would have no limp without causing his kin more pain.

After several minutes, the princess leaned back.

“It’s definitely broken. But I can heal it quick enough if you don’t mind staying human for a while. Their bones are easier to heal than ours, I find, and healing the one usually affects the other.”

“That’s fine,” Ragnar answered for Meinhard. “We’ll be staying for a bit.”

“Even now?” Vigholf asked, his hand constantly straying to where his hair now rested by his ears.

“Yes, brother. Even now.”

Morfyd stood. She was taller than her sister, but leaner, even under those robes. “I am sorry about all this. I apologize for my brother’s mate.

She’s quite cautious these days. But I can assure you all the best accommodations and anything you may need.”

“None of that’s necessary, but thank you, princess.”

“Morfyd. Please. I’ve always felt that once you’ve been unfairly attacked by one’s family, a more casual etiquette should come into play.” She smiled, and Ragnar returned it. “That sounds like an excellent plan.”

“Good.” She motioned to several guards. “These men will take you to your rooms.”

“I can walk,” Meinhard said, pushing himself to his one good foot.

“I’d prefer you not try.”

“A Northland dragon is only carried when he’s dead, my lady.”

“Well that’s”—Morfyd cleared her throat—“a rather hopeful ideal.” Ragnar saw the Blue coming down the road—alone. They’d left him and Keita speaking to some locals while Ragnar and Meinhard searched for a place to let their cousin rest his leg. But only the Blue returned.

“Is something wrong?” Morfyd asked.

“Do you know where your sister is?”

“Knowing Keita? In the guards’ barracks, picking up where she left off perhaps?” The princess blinked and took a step back. “I’m…I’m only joking.”

Ragnar realized he must be scowling, and he worked to control it.

“Morfyd!”

The dragoness spun away from Ragnar. “Éibhear!” She lifted her robes and ran toward her brother, throwing herself into his arms.

“The way these women act toward him,” Vigholf complained,

“explains so much about this pup.”

“Leave him alone,” Meinhard said through clenched teeth.

Vigholf walked over to their cousin and put Meinhard’s arm around his shoulder. “Lean on me.” When it looked as if Meinhard would throw that stupid Code in his face, Vigholf added, “It’ll make us look good to the pretty She-dragon with the blue eyes. You’ll look needy and I will look giving.”

“I hear she’s taken,” Ragnar tossed in.

“By a human,” Vigholf said before both he and Meinhard snorted in unison.

Laughing now, Ragnar turned from his cousin and brother, only to spot something off in the distance. Something that, although he’d never seen it before, he still recognized from a long-ago discussion with a warlord’s very reasonable daughter.

“You two go in. I’ll meet you.”

“Go in? Without you?” Meinhard sounded terrified that he’d be forced to act as the Lightnings’ representative. And considering how poorly he did in those situations, it was probably best he didn’t act as representative for anyone.