The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(22)

“And Annwyl?” one of the commanders asked.

So Brastias wouldn’t have to lie to his men, Morfyd quickly answered, “I go to her now. But everyone is moving at this moment. Understand?” The commander’s eyes narrowed a bit, but he wasn’t about to chal enge Morfyd. Although her reputation was nothing like Annwyl’s—Morfyd simply didn’t have the body count to her name—they stil knew Morfyd was a She-dragon not to be trifled with.

The men left to get their legions moving and Brastias wrapped his hand around her ankle, sweetly squeezing it.

“Anything?” he asked, his voice very quiet.

“No. Annwyl and the others are blocked from my sight.”

“Also down to your helpful gods?”

“I real y don’t know. The west, past the Aricia Mountains, has always been blocked from my sight and my mother’s. Whether that’s due to the gods or a very powerful witch or mage . . . I do not know.”

“Don’t worry, luv. If there has always been one thing I’ve had faith in, it’s been our mad queen.” Morfyd leaned down in her saddle and kissed Brastias. When she pul ed away, she whispered, “Watch your back, my love. There are always those working against our queen and those loyal to her.”

“Aye,” he answered sadly. “That I do know.”

She left him then, knowing she’d stay behind for a bit. She’d stay behind and wait. Although she had no idea why. And watching Annwyl’s men scramble to head off for more blood and death in battle under Annwyl’s banner, Morfyd realized she no longer had any choice but to do what she’d been resisting since she’d realized Annwyl had gone off with Morfyd’s cousin and niece.

She would now have to contact her mother.

When they were no more than three miles outside of Garbhán Isle, Ren suddenly stopped, bringing the rest of them up short. The Eastlander looked so tired that if Dark Plains had been any farther away, Vigholf would have had to carry him.

“What is it?” Rhona asked Ren.

“They know I’m here. The Kyvich. And they are not pleased.”

“Why?”

“Perhaps they know what I’m doing. I don’t know.”

“You wait here.” Rhona motioned to Vigholf. “Watch them while I let the others know we’re here. The last thing we want is the Kyvich to panic over Ren’s presence and al my cousins need to see is a bloody Lightning about before they—” Rhona shoved him. A good thing too with that giant, steel spear shooting straight at him. But Rhona’s brown claws caught it in mid-flight, the steel tip inches from Vigholf’s throat. The pair stared at each other.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“You’re welcome,” Rhona replied just before a big fist slammed into the back of Vigholf’s head, shoving him forward.

Rhona flew out of the way when Vigholf was suddenly moving toward her due to that silver-scaled fist to the back of his head. Then another fist, this time black, slammed into the Lightning, forcing Vigholf back. But it wasn’t some enemy dragons who’d fol owed them to Dark Plains, but her Uncle Addolgar, the Silver—and good gods! Her father!

While both males mercilessly pummeled Vigholf within an inch of his life, Rhona shoved the spear into Keita’s hands, ignoring the royal’s squeal when it nearly dragged her to the ground below, and quickly flew between the battling males.

“Daddy! Addolgar! No!”

Her father stopped immediately, but Addolgar kicked Vigholf in the face, sending the Lightning flipping back in midair.

She cringed, feeling bad for the Northlander. But seeing her father again . . .

Heartless female! He was getting battered by the wench’s kin, and instead of coming to his defense, she was busy hugging some bloody Fire Breather. Where was the loyalty?

The older silver dragon had his broadsword out, aiming it toward Vigholf’s head. Vigholf yanked his hammer off his back, swinging it through the air, mostly to block the sword. But if he happened to hit the dragon’s head in the process . . .

But before Vigholf’s hammer could hit anything, it was caught and held in a strong claw, as was the older dragon’s sword.

“My daughter,” the big black dragon with red-tinged scales told them calmly, “said to stop. So you’l stop. Even you, Addolgar.” The Silver snarled and yanked his broadsword away. “Someone should have warned us you were coming here, Northlander. Thought you were a threat. Didn’t realize you were just more Lightning scum.”

“I’m so glad we have that truce with you,” Vigholf muttered, wiping the blood that dripped from his nostrils.

“Uncle Addolgar fought against Northlanders in at least three wars, including against your father,” Rhona explained. “So you shouldn’t take it personal y that he sees you al as worthless scum.”

Vigholf stared at the female. “How does that help the situation?” he demanded.

“I’l escort you back,” the black dragon told them al , his smirk reminding Vigholf of Rhona, “so the Lightning can arrive without being accosted.

Poor, weak little thing.”

“Daddy,” Rhona—barely—chastised.

The dragon laughed and, after taking the steel spear from a stil -struggling Keita and tossing it back to Rhona, headed toward Garbhán Isle, Keita and Ren beside him. Vigholf caught Rhona’s forearm. “Daddy?”