The Dragon Who Loved Me (Dragon Kin #5)(65)

Vigholf crouched beside Rhona on a hil overlooking the campsite. Together they watched as the soldiers dragged Annwyl from a cage. When they started kicking and punching her, Vigholf had to catch Rhona and hold her.

“Not yet,” he told her.

“We can shift.”

“You don’t think they know how to fight us? That Thracius didn’t give his human soldiers enough insight to bring a couple of us down during battle?

We wait.”

A Sovereign picked Annwyl up by her throat. Based on the elaborateness of his armor and the horse-hair crest on his helm, he was the commanding officer. Motioning to at least twenty of his men, he walked to the only tent that had been set up, dragging a barely conscious Annwyl with him. The men, laughing, fol owed.

“Now do we move?” Rhona asked.

“Now we move.”

They began down the hil , staying low, using the tal grass to shield them. They’d stay human to start and only shift if they deemed it necessary.

But, as they moved, a crow sounded behind them and Rhona instantly stopped.

“What?” Vigholf whispered. “What is it?”

Taking a breath, Rhona let out a similar crow caw and there was an answering response. With a nod, Rhona kept low but ran to her right and slightly up until they spotted a large tree. They went around it and Rhona instantly wrapped her arms around the young She-dragon standing behind it.

“Branwen.”

“Cousin Rhona?” Branwen whispered. “What the hel s are you doing here?”

“Come to get you and your wayward queen. Are you al right?”

“Yeah, fine. I’m fine. We’re fine.”

“Hel o, Vigholf.”

Vigholf smiled at the human girl who spoke to him. She’d matured a bit since Vigholf had last seen her. Grown into a right little cutie. But a cutie that could tear a head off with her bare hands based on the size of her. “Izzy. In trouble again, I see.”

“Only a bit.” She nodded and smiled at Rhona. “Hel o, Rhona.”

“Iseabail,” Rhona said coldly, turning from her. “You two stay here. We’l take care of the—”

“We have our orders,” Izzy said. “You can come with us or you can stay here and watch. But we’re moving.” She nodded at Branwen. “And we’re moving now.”

Rhona glared at the pair as they quickly and quietly headed off down the hil . “Damn brats.”

“Damn soldiers,” he reminded her. “We fol ow?”

“It’s not like we have any choice,” Rhona said, pul ing out her spear and letting it expand until it was the size she wanted it. “Now let’s go kil some murdering bastards.”

Rhona watched her cousin and Iseabail attack first. Brannie seemed to favor the old standard—a sword and a shield. Iseabail, however, used an ax and a short sword. Together, the pair ran into the soldiers cooking their food over pit fires. The first men they encountered barely had time to cal to their comrades before they were cut down by the young females.

Yet the next wave of soldiers had time to pul their weapons and attack, but the four of them ripped through the entire battalion without much effort.

It would have been more of a chal enge if Rhona and Vigholf had been alone or if Branwen and Iseabail hadn’t been as wel trained. But they had been, hacking and slashing their way through the troops, al of them quickly making their way to the tent Annwyl had been pul ed into.

Rhona cleared her way through the soldiers first, giving her a straight run at the tent. She didn’t want her cousin to see . . . Anyway, she thought someone from inside would have heard the screams and been out here to see what was going on by now. But perhaps they were too focused on what they were doing to Annwyl.

Disgusted more than she could say, Rhona charged the tent, but she stumbled back when the tent flap was yanked open. She raised her shield and spear, ready to strike, but it was Annwyl standing in that tent flap. It was Annwyl who was covered in blood and was dragging the moaning commander by the neck of his breastplate.

The queen stopped right outside the tent, eyes blinking slowly. “Rhona?”

“Annwyl?” Rhona looked her over. “Are you al right?”

“Nose is broken,” she muttered. Then she walked off with the commander.

Vigholf stood by Rhona now, the pair staring after Annwyl before looking at each other. Without a word spoken, they entered the tent, but didn’t get any farther than a few inches past the flap.

“Gods, Vigholf.”

“Al of them,” he murmured in awe. “She’s kil ed al of them.”

Not just kil ed either. More like decimated. She must have gotten someone’s sword or ax, because there were pieces of the soldiers everywhere.

Heads, arms, legs . . . penises. Those pieces, along with al the blood, fil ed the entire floor and wal s of the tent.

Rhona walked back outside and watched Annwyl shove the Sovereign commander against the cage they’d kept her in. Iseabail tied the commander’s arms to the bars and Branwen handed Annwyl one of her two swords.

Wondering what the hel s was going on, Rhona headed over to the three females.

Annwyl crouched down before the commander. She stared at him a moment, then broke out in a bright smile. “That was fun, eh?” She poked him in the chest with her fist. Not hard, but based on his reaction Rhona was guessing there were some ribs broken there.