The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(19)

“Who says they do?”

“I doubt that just because a Quintilian monarch offers them payment they’l jump at the chance to take on Garbhán Isle.”

“Wel . . .” Rhona let out a little sigh, toying with the cloth holding her food. “Annwyl does not like slavery or slave traders, which is the Tribesmen’s top means of income. She struck first a few years back, hoping to convince them, in her own way, to give up slavery in exchange for her not wiping them from the planet. They never took her up on her offer, and then this thing with the Irons and Sovereigns happened and she stopped worrying about the Tribesmen. Especial y when she found out that most of the Tribesmen’s patrons were Quintilians.”

“And in Annwyl’s mind, kil the ones demanding the product and the suppliers wil go out of business?”

“Pretty much. For Annwyl it’s not about power but about everything being what she thinks is . . . right. She thinks slavery is wrong, so she tries to stop it. She thinks the Sovereigns ruling everything is wrong, so she tries to stop them.”

“You’ve fought by her side before?”

“More than once. As human. When the Cadwaladrs have no dragons to fight, we’l join human armies.”

“Your royal cousins do the same?”

Rhona had to laugh at that. “My cousins? Direct bloodline from the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar? Hardly. Even my Uncle Bercelak, their father, a true Cadwaladr, never had much use for humans except as a quick-moving snack. Then Annwyl came along . . .” Rhona shook her head.

“Nothing’s been the same since Fearghus found that female dying outside his cave about twelve or so years ago. Then there was Talaith and Dagmar. . . . Then the offspring were born and al bets were off.”

Vigholf nodded slowly. “I see, but your cousin, Keita . . .”

“What about her?”

“She hides something.”

“Keita hides much,” Rhona admitted. “She is a Protector of the Throne. She wil do al in her power to safeguard the throne of our kind, even to her death.”

“She’d go that far? Even to risk her young nieces and nephew?”

“I doubt Keita thinks she’s risking them. And she has and wil risk her own life. I know now that’s never a question.” For tiny Keita had faced the wrath of their bitch cousin Elestren, who was anything but tiny. Elestren had believed Keita a traitor and, without orders, set about sending Keita to the salt mines on the Desert Land borders. Al because Keita had embarrassed the Dragonwarrior by taking her eye during fair combat training.

Unfortunate, perhaps, but Rhona’s own mother had lost the tip of her wing while training with her sister Ghleanna. Something that affected her flying, but over the centuries she’d learned to manage it. And she’d never held it against her sister.

Yet Keita had faced Elestren bravely, proving what Rhona had always suspected about her cousin—Keita was nothing like she seemed.

Taking Rhona’s word for it, he motioned to her food. “Eat.”

“Thanks for this.”

The Lightning grunted before asking, “And Keita’s grand scheme—you al right with it?” Around the dried beef she chewed, Rhona replied, “It is what it is.”

“So you just accept it then?”

She shrugged, biting off a piece of bread. “Why wouldn’t I accept it?”

“But you didn’t ask anything. Push for more answers from Keita. What if this isn’t what it seems at al ? What if it’s worse?”

“Then I’l adjust. Because that’s what a good soldier does. I fol ow orders. I adjust. That’s what I’l do now.” Vigholf didn’t understand this female. She never asked questions, she never disobeyed, and she never did more than fol ow the orders given. Yet she was in no way lazy or stupid or incapable. Although female, she fought extremely wel and deserved her title of sergeant. But Vigholf couldn’t help but see more for her. Just like the rest of her siblings, who, to be honest, he didn’t find nearly as capable.

So then what was it? Why did she seem happy to simply settle for being an order taker?

“Do you even like being a soldier?” he asked. “Because it never sounds like you do.” Her eyes widened a bit and he realized he’d surprised her with his question. Had no one asked her if she’d wanted to be a soldier? Then again .

. . after knowing Rhona’s mother, he doubted that anyone had asked Rhona anything. It was probably a given.

“I like it wel enough,” she eventual y answered.

“Do you love it?”

She took an even longer time to answer that, slowly chewing her food and staring thoughtful y out over the land.

“I’m good at it,” she final y replied, dark brown eyes focusing on him. “I am, point of fact, the best soldier you’l ever meet. The most loyal, the most dedicated, the most skil ed. But I am no more than that. I am no more than the best soldier you’l ever meet.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” To be honest, he’d kil for a troop fil ed with nothing but soldiers like Rhona.

“Among my kin . . . it’s a disappointing thing. So when I talk about it, what you hear isn’t hatred over what I do. Just resignation.” She handed over half the meat and bread he’d given her. “You’l need to keep your strength up, too, Commander. We’l be back in Dark Plains in another day and a half,” she added, expertly climbing down from her perch, “and I sense we’l need your Northland strength.” Then she was gone and Vigholf spent his watch thinking about brown eyes and the resignation he’d seen within them.