The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(63)

“Understood. And the assassins?”

“Do a room-to-room search for them. If you find anything, inform me immediately.”

“If we find assassins?”

“Kil them. Then bring their bodies to me. Discreetly.”

“Aye, my lady.”

Dagmar walked back to the castle and inside. The Tribesmen had been quiet today. Something that did not make her feel better.

“Commander Ásta,” Dagmar cal ed out when she saw the Kyvich witch with her troop leaders.

“Lady Dagmar.”

“Is everything al right? Any problems last night?”

“No, my lady.”

“You sure?”

“Did you hear there was a problem?”

“No,” Dagmar lied. “Not at al . Guess I’m just a little nervous about al this.” The Kyvich smiled at her. “Something tel s me, Lady Dagmar, that you don’t get nervous over anything.”

“Of course I do. My whole life is fil ed with worry.” She pointed toward the gates. “Is there a reason you haven’t fol owed the Tribesmen out into the woods and finished them there?”

“That’s not our job.”

“Pardon?”

“We’re here to protect the children and only the children. We wil not leave them to take on a battle that your people should be fighting.”

“So if the Tribesmen get past the gates, wipe us out . . .”

“Not our problem. The children are our concern. Now if you’l excuse me.”

Annoyed, Dagmar headed downstairs to where they kept the children.

“What’s wrong?” Talaith asked as soon as Dagmar sat down at the smal table with her.

“Nothing,” Dagmar lied again. “Everything al right here?”

“Fine.”

“No problems last night?”

“No. None at al . Why?” Talaith leaned across the table a bit. “Are you sure everything’s al right, Dagmar?”

“Yes, yes. Everything is fine.”

Talaith sat back. “How’s it going outside?”

“It’s being handled, but it’s clear that Annwyl has made enemies of pretty much every Tribesman from here to the Desert Land borders.”

“So they’re not giving up?”

“No, but we’l be fine,” she assured Talaith.

“As my guests keep reassuring me.” Talaith looked over at the squad of Kyvich who stood on guard duty inside the room.

“Would you rather be down here alone?”

“Might as wel be. They’re not exactly chatty.”

“I don’t mean for your social life, Talaith. I’m talking about the safety of the children. So please, do me a favor and suck up the misery for a little while longer.”

“Oh, fine. Here. Have some tea. It’l make you feel better.”

While Talaith poured Dagmar some tea, Dagmar watched Ebba search among the children’s bedding.

“Lose something, Ebba?” she asked.

“Can’t find the children’s swords. And you know how they get when they don’t get in their morning training. Cranky doesn’t begin to describe it.” She winked at Dagmar and went back to her search while Talaith complained about the Kyvich. She didn’t complain about anything in particular, just that they existed.

Slowly, Dagmar shifted her focus to the children. The three of them sat cross-legged on the floor in a circle. Rhian drew symbols on parchment and appeared much more worried than usual, her smooth brow pul ed down into a very deep frown; Talan played with one of the dogs; and Talwyn read. To everyone’s surprise, Talwyn was an advanced reader like her mother. Very advanced. She could read at least three languages that they knew of. The language of the humans in this region, the language of dragons, and now, according to Ebba, she could read the language of centaurs.

As Dagmar watched her, the seven-year-old girl lifted her head and looked at Dagmar through dirty, unkempt hair, black eyes like her father’s and yet she seemed so much like Annwyl. Especial y when the child suddenly smiled at her.

And it was at that moment that Dagmar realized . . . the captain of the guard would never find those assassins alive.

Fearghus watched Ragnar hover over his brother. Briec hadn’t moved since he’d been struck, the healers working on him through the night, but no one had told the rest of them anything and he was beginning to get anxious.

After several minutes, Ragnar came to his side.

“Wel ?”

“It seems that—”

“I don’t have time for one of your careful y worded replies, Northlander. Just tel me if my brother’s going to live or die.”

“I don’t know. He’s completely unresponsive, barely breathing, and . . .”

“And?”

“His spine’s been split.” Ragnar shook his head. “Neither I nor the healers know how to fix that. Perhaps your mother or Morfyd . . .”

“Wil they even know what’s happened to him?”

“No. We’ve been cut off. I can’t contact my brother or Keita or anyone.”

“Neither can I.” Fearghus cleared his throat. “If he survives . . . wil he walk?”

“I don’t know. But I do doubt he’l ever fly again.”