The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(103)

“You’re okay with this?” Bradana asked her mate.

“I don’t have a problem with Lightnings. Of course, my people didn’t try to systematical y wipe them out either.” Bradana shrugged. “It wasn’t systematic.”

“And in answer to your question . . . yes. I’m okay with this. He makes her happy, he cares about her, and the dragon can wield a mighty warhammer.”

“He’l take her back to the north, you know? To live with that Horde of his.”

“So? I came with you, I’m no more the worse for wear.”

Bradana examined the blades her mate had hanging from a rope. “You don’t think she’s leaving just so . . .”

“She can get away from you?”

She shrugged again. “I know I pushed her a bit. Expected more from her than the others. Maybe she’s just doing this to get out from under, yeah?”

Sulien slipped his hand around the back of Bradana’s neck and pul ed her close, kissing her cheek. “If there’s one thing we both know about our oldest girl is that she’d never leave her siblings except for a dragon she loved. If she goes with him, it’s because she wants to. Because she loves him. Not to get away from you or anyone else.”

Bradana hugged Sulien tight, dropping her head against his shoulder. “I’l miss her when she’s gone—the impossible little cow.”

“Of course you wil . Who wil you complain about if she’s not here? Ow! That was unnecessary, female!” Ragnar stopped walking and sighed. Loudly.

“What are you doing?” he asked the She-dragon he loved, who’d wrapped her arms around his shoulder.

“Pummeling you into submission!”

“You’re not very good at it.”

“So everyone keeps tel ing me.” She released his neck and dropped to the ground. Ragnar faced her and marveled at the fact that being caught in the middle of this siege on Garbhán Isle had not affected Princess Keita’s dress code. Her blue dress glittered, her jewel-encrusted gold jewelry sparkled, and she stil wore no damn shoes! Why wouldn’t the female wear shoes when she was in her human form? Was there a moral reason? A fashion one? What was her problem with shoes?

“Why are you staring at my feet?” She raised a brow. “Do they arouse you?”

“Keita—”

“They do, don’t they?” Pushing the toes of her right foot into the ground and raising the heel a bit, she said, “They are quite adorable. Just like me!”

“I missed you, Keita,” Ragnar told her, al teasing aside. “Very much.”

“Oh? That’s nice to hear.”

“Is that al you have to say?”

“What do you want me to say? What do you think I should say?”

“I don’t think you should say anything. I was just asking.”

“Wel . . . al right. I’m going to see my brothers.” She nodded, walked away, but she was heading away from the castle, so she stopped and turned, heading back. She walked by, got about ten feet, stopped.

Then Keita the Viper spun around and ran into his arms, hugging him tight. “This is al your fault!” she accused.

“What is?”

“How much I missed you! And I was shockingly worried about you. I actual y cared if you were hurt or had been damaged in some way.” She leaned back, squinted up at him. “You weren’t, were you? Damaged?”

“Not so that I won’t heal.”

“Good.” She rested her head on his chest. “Believe it or not, I don’t know what I’d have done if something happened to you.” Keita abruptly pul ed back from him and punched him in the chest. “What have you done to me, foreigner? Wel , let me make it plain that you’l not trap me in your evil web of amazing sex and unconditional love! I’m stronger than that!” And Ragnar sighed . . . loudly.

Rhiannon sat down beside her youngest offspring on the hil that overlooked the castle of Garbhán Isle and the surrounding grounds.

She’d known since his hatching that this time would come. For Fearghus and Briec it had come quite early. For Morfyd it had come quite late.

And for Gwenvael and Keita . . . wel , it had never been. It was that point in a young dragon’s life when he was no longer a hatchling, a babe. Yet being a ful adult was stil a few years out of reach. For most of them it wasn’t a hard transition. They simply went from being fil ed with wonder to cynical pains in the ass seemingly overnight. But Éibhear had always been different. A little smarter. A whole lot sweeter. She’d always feared that the transition for him would not be an easy one.

And, based on what Fearghus had told her, it wouldn’t be. Not for her sweet Éibhear. Not now that he blamed himself for something that could have happened to any of them. And, in some ways, had. As royals they al had to make decisions, had to do things that didn’t always feel good or even right, but were necessary. Austel ’s death, while tragic, was the way of war. As a soldier in Rhiannon’s army, that was the risk Éibhear took.

The risk Rhiannon took by al owing her offspring to involve themselves in war, to risk their lives picking up a sword, an ax, a hammer and set off after her enemies. To keep her throne safe, her kingdom safe.

Real y, what could she say to her son now that would make him feel better? What words of wisdom could she impart that would make him say,