The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(24)

Most of them gone for five years, with no visits from her daughter for the entire time and none from Briec after the first two.

Rhona looked down at herself. “Got any clean clothes I can wear? Mine are al a bit stinky at the moment.” Talaith laughed a little. “Maybe in Annwyl’s closet.”

“That’l do.” She started to head away from the camp, but Talaith caught her arm, pul ed her back.

“Here.” Talaith took off the fur cape she wore and wrapped it around Rhona’s naked body. “At least until we get inside. For the sake of the servants.”

“Such a prude,” Rhona teased.

“I’m worried,” Talaith admitted when they were away from Rhona’s kin but not quite at the castle gates. “I haven’t heard from Briec in several days.”

“You’ve heard from Briec?” Usual y only immediate blood relations could contact each other directly and at long distances. Unless, of course, they were . . .

“Witch,” Talaith reminded Rhona. One of those Desert Land witches, mortal enemies of the Kyvich, Rhona had heard. So having the scantily clad, tattooed females around must be especial y hard for Talaith. “Learning to contact my mate was one of the easier things I’ve had to relearn since the return of my powers. And with a little more effort and a lot less complaining, Briec could be an amazing mage, so it’s been quite easy. I don’t hear from him every day, but he’s never gone this long. . . .”

“When I left al was wel . We’re at a standstil .” Although Rhona was wel aware al that could change in a moment. But what was the point of worrying her?

“Can you check with your mum?” Talaith asked.

Rhona stopped walking, tightened the fur around her body. “Uh . . .”

“Uh? Uh what?”

“No one’s supposed to know I’m here.”

“Why the hel s not?”

“Keita—”

“Och! That female!” Talaith raised her hand to silence Rhona’s immediate defense of her cousin. “What is she up to now?”

“Maybe you should ask—”

“Forget it.” Talaith caught Rhona’s hand, pul ing her along with a surprising amount of strength. Then again, Rhona did often forget that Talaith was once an assassin. A very good one.

With a little snarl, Talaith said, “Let’s find that damn female.”

“How is everything going?” Dagmar asked while Vigholf tucked into a heaping bowl of delicious-smel ing beef stew.

“Fine.”

The bowl suddenly disappeared, his spoon dangling in midair.

“You’d get between a dragon and his food?” Vigholf asked, only half seriously.

“When he insists on answering my question like a true Northland male—yes.” She lifted the bowl, holding it in both hands. The scent of it wafted to his nose and Vigholf couldn’t help but growl a little. “But unlike most of my countrymen, you can and do create and execute ful and complete sentences. So I ask again . . . how is everything going?”

“I see my brother has taught you very wel .” Honestly, during the last five years, Vigholf had been forced to stretch his opinion on what was right for females to be involved in and what was not.

“Yes. Your brother did train me wel ,” she replied. “And he told me I could trust you as I trust him.” Those words meant much to Vigholf because his brother would have never said them to Dagmar unless he’d meant it. “You can, my lady.”

“Dagmar. Please.”

“First off, Dagmar, your mate is wel . Mean. But wel .”

“Mean?” She placed the bowl of food back in front of him. “Are you sure you have the right—”

“Gwenvael the Ruiner, yes?”

She nodded, eyes wide behind those spectacles his brother had made for her many years ago.

“He is quite . . . loyal to you, I’m afraid,” Vigholf explained. “And has been for the last five years. But for someone like him that is not easy.

Especial y since, like his brothers, he has not returned here for the last three years. He’s turned impatient, mean, and nasty; and he takes it out on the rest of us—and the enemy. The Irons cal him Gwenvael the Defiler.”

The woman burst into laughter, something Vigholf never thought he’d hear from the dour little human. She stuttered to a stop. “Sorry. Private joke.

And . . . uh . . . why do they cal him that?”

“He has a tendency to dismember the bodies. Sometimes while the owner of that body stil breathes. I told you . . . he’s become quite mean without you.”

“I see.”

“As to the war itself . . .” Vigholf sighed. “That’s a bit more complicated, I’m afraid.” Rhona pul ed on a sleeveless chain-mail shirt, brown leather leggings, and knee-high black leather boots. Thankful y, Annwyl was close to Rhona’s size. The height of the boots covered up that the leggings were a tad short, and the fact that the human queen had larger tits gave Rhona more room in the shirt for her bigger shoulders.

And while Rhona pul ed on the queen’s clothes, the queen’s sisters-by-mating argued like two angry harpies.

“How could you not tel them?” Talaith demanded of Keita. “You should have told Briec and Fearghus.”