The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(29)

They neared the steps that would lead into the Great Hal , and Rhona glanced around and said, “Al this . . . preparation?”

“Our Battle Lord is quite cautious,” Ebba explained, speaking of Dagmar. “The local merchants have al been moved to nearby towns and only those who live here, are invited by those who live here, or are part of the Queen’s army are al owed entry. Everyone takes the children’s safety very seriously.” They walked up the stairs to the castle’s Great Hal . “Although I don’t know why.” Rhona stopped right in the doorway. “Why would you say that?”

Ebba had only a chance to raise a brow before the boy was ripped from Rhona’s hand by his dirt-covered sister. She attacked silently, only growling once the pair had hit the floor in a flurry of fists and sibling rage.

The girl, glaring like Rhona’s Uncle Bercelak, got her brother on his back and head-butted him. Twice.

“Awww,” Rhona observed, feeling nostalgic. “Just like our Aunt Ghleanna.”

“I need to eat,” Vigholf announced, apparently not feeling nostalgic at al .

“He constantly needs to be fed,” Rhona complained, watching her young cousins rol ing across the floor.

“Should I starve instead?”

“Yes.” She watched the twins a bit longer. “Should we separate them?”

Ebba pul ed a red dress over her now-human form. “If you’d like.”

Rhona reached down and took hold of the siblings, yanking them apart. It didn’t stop them from trying to rip each other into shreds, though. “Are they like this al the time?”

“Only when they’re not torturing others.”

“Do they speak?” Rhona had yet to hear anything from the pair but snarling, snapping, and growling. It was disconcerting.

“Only to each other and only in whispers.” Ebba brushed her long, reddish brown hair from her face. “We try not to be terrified by that.”

“I need to eat,” Vigholf said again.

Rhona faced him, shaking the snarling children for emphasis. “Can you not see we’re talking?”

“About babysitting.” And he grinned at her when he said it. “Shocking.”

Her eyes narrowed, daring him to cal her that blasted nickname.

There were screams from the courtyard and panicked humans running. “How nice.” Ebba took the children from Rhona’s hands. “Queen Rhiannon’s here.”

“Oh,” Rhona said. She glanced at Vigholf, but he was already staring at her. She nodded and said, “I have to go. Need to clean up, meeting my father for dinner.”

“Me too,” Vigholf chimed in. “What I mean is . . . meeting my father. Wait, no, he’s dead.”

“Your mother. You’re meeting your mother.”

“Right, right. Mum.”

And with that, they scattered. It wasn’t dignified or remotely brave, but it was necessary because neither of them wanted to face the queen.

“Ren can have the portal open in a day,” Keita explained to Dagmar, Talaith, and the Kyvich leader, Ásta.

“And then what?” Dagmar asked.

“I’m not going to—”

Dagmar raised a finger, stopping Talaith’s potential tirade. “And then what?” she asked Keita again.

“He takes them to the Eastlands. They’l be safe there. His parents wil be happy to help.” She smiled. “They adore me.”

“I’m sure they do. But that doesn’t mean they’l adore the children.”

“While I appreciate your eagerness to help, Princess,” Ásta cut in, “I wil not al ow you or this foreigner to take the children from our care.” Keita’s eyes narrowed and Dagmar warned, “Don’t you dare unleash flame in this room, Keita.”

“It won’t matter if she does,” Ásta smugly boasted. “A dragon’s flame means nothing to a Kyvich.” Ren stepped forward; the handsome Eastland dragon looked so very tired that Dagmar worried about him. But Keita had come here with her grand ideas about rescuing her nieces and nephew, so whether she noticed the wear on her friend was anyone’s guess. “On my word and the honor of my family, those children wil be protected with the dying breaths of my kin, if need be.”

“I believe you,” Dagmar said. “But Commander Ásta—”

“Their leader’s Magick is strong, but not as strong as mine.” Ren said, sounding surprisingly cocky—Dagmar assumed that was because he was too tired to hide his natural dragon-based arrogance. “And she knows it.”

“What I know,” Ásta warned, stepping closer to Ren, “is that I do not fear any dragon. Even the Snow dragons out of the Ice Lands stay out of the path of the Kyvich—and I can assure you they are stronger than you could ever dream, foreigner.”

“I’m the foreigner?”

Dagmar raised her hands. “If we could al calm down—”

Ásta slapped her hands together. Dagmar saw nothing, but the way that Talaith’s eyes grew wide and she pushed away from the table, Dagmar knew something Magickrelated was happening in front of her. “Perhaps it’s time you learn your place, foreigner. And remember that no one takes those children anywhere without our permission.”