Last Dragon Standing (Dragon Kin #4)(66)

But both princesses quickly barked out, “I don’t want to hear it!”

“Can you take care of our esteemed guests?” the beautiful Talaith, Daughter of Haldane, asked Princess Morfyd.

“Aye.”

“Good.” She caught hold of Princess Keita’s arm and dragged her toward the fortress steps. “Because this one has something to do that she’s left far too long.”

“We’re not going in there alone, are we?” Princess Keita asked, making Meinhard worried for her safety. “Shouldn’t we have guards or something to do this?”

“Stop it, Keita. They’re just children. It’s not like they bite…enough to cause permanently disabling injuries or death.” Children?

“Explain to me why we can’t go home?” Meinhard asked.

“Because my brother’s an idiot,” Vigholf replied.

“That’s what I thought.”

“So explain this house to me, Lady Dagmar. I saw it, and I somehow knew you’d be here.”

Dagmar’s gaze roamed the room, and her accompanying smile was soft and very sweet. A smile once reserved for Ragnar alone, but now—he knew—it was strictly for another.

“I mentioned once to Gwenvael—after too much of his father’s wine, I imagine—that I’d always dreamed of having my own little house on my father’s lands. A little spinster home of my own. I said that I guess I wouldn’t get that now that I had a mate. A mate who, according to him, wasn’t going anywhere, anytime soon since he knew how much I adored him and couldn’t live without his presence.” She laughed at an arrogance most couldn’t tolerate for two seconds. “A few months later, Gwenvael brought me here. He’d had the royal builders make this just for me. And it’s perfect, isn’t it? Exactly how I imagined it. I was concerned it was too close to the castle, but I am continually amazed at how lazy you dragons are. If I’m sitting right in the Great Hall, you’ll stop and talk to me or around me for hours. But to traipse a few hundred feet away from the gates to chat…

that takes a taller order, apparently.”

“You forget, my good lady, that you can’t group us all together. There are many dragons, with all sorts of differences, and we hate each other equally.”

She laughed. “Good point. I always forget that.” Ragnar reached across the table and took her hand, his gaze fixed on where his fingers stroked her knuckles. “I’m very glad to see you happy here, Dagmar. And I am sorry about how things ended for us.” No. This wasn’t right. He couldn’t look away from what he’d done. He had to face it directly as he’d done with Keita. “I’m sorry,” he said again, this time making his eyes meet hers. “For how I lied to you all those years about who I was and what I was. I truly never saw a choice and—”

“Stop,” she cut in.

Dagmar looked off for a moment, and he knew she was getting her thoughts organized as she liked to do. No dramatic emotional moments for her, and that was fine with him.

When she returned her gaze to his, it was calm and controlled. Just like her. “I’ll admit that finding out that you’d lied to me did hurt. It hurt me in a way, I imagine, no one else could have. But I’ve also come to understand why you did it. More importantly, I now know and understand that everything you’ve ever done for me, ever shown or taught me, has led me to this. Has led me to a place where I can be who I am without fear or worry. For that alone, Lord Ragnar, all past transgressions are forgiven, and I strongly suggest we leave the past where it is and move on from there.” A weight that had been on his shoulders for far too long lifted. “Do you understand, my Lady Dagmar, that you will always be one of my greatest triumphs?”

Her smile was small but powerful, yet whatever she was about to say in return was cut off when her dog got to his feet and began to bark hysterically at the front door. A moment later, the gold dragon who held Dagmar’s heart threw the front door open and stormed in.

Ignoring the frothing dog right in front of him, Gwenvael the Ruiner focused on Ragnar. “The Liar Monk has returned, I see.” Since it appeared they would not even pretend to honor the basic rules of greeting, Ragnar replied, “Ruiner.”

Gwenvael’s eyes locked on where Ragnar held Dagmar’s hand. “I’m beginning to feel the need to start hurting things,” the Fire Breather announced.

“Quiet.” And it took Ragnar a moment to realize Dagmar was actually talking to Canute. The dog stopped barking, but he kept growling, his eyes fixed on Gwenvael’s throat.

Noticing the dog, the Fire Breather leaned in and asked it, “Miss me, old friend?”

The barking started again, and with a sigh, Dagmar pulled her hand away from Ragnar and walked to the door. She held it open and gestured to Canute. “Out. Now.”

Snarling and reluctant, the dog went outside, where it would most likely stare at the door until it opened again and he could be near his mistress once more.

“Why do you taunt him?” Dagmar demanded, slamming the door once the beast had gone.

“I wasn’t. That was me being nice to him.”

“Then we have much work to do, I fear. Because while you may be replaceable, Defiler, Canute is not!”

“It’s Ruiner! Even this idiot gets it right! And another thing,” the Gold went on, “when I gave you this house, my lady, I never expected you to entertain peasant males who may come wandering in unannounced, and I have to say I am extremely displeased at…cookies!” His apparent rage gone as quickly as it had come, Gwenvael walked to the table and reached into the tin. And that’s when Dagmar slammed the lid on his hand.