What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(106)

Dagmar motioned the young soldier away. “Good work. Tell General Brastias if he doesn’t already know.”

“Aye, m’lady,” the young soldier promised before running off again.

She nodded at the dragons who watched her expectantly.

“They’re here.”

Chapter 27

Gwenvael found his brother where he’d been for the last three days. He hated to bother him now, but he’d received his orders from Fearghus himself three days before.

“Brother.”

Fearghus raised his head. “Aye?”

“Dagmar has received word that the Minotaurs are near. We’re all meeting now with Father, Ghleanna, and Addolgar in the war room to discuss next steps.”

“Fine,” Fearghus said, his voice sounding very weary. “I’ll be right there.”

“You don’t have to. We can take care of—”

“These are my children’s lives we’re talking about,” he cut in. “I’ll be right there.”

Fearghus didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t get snappy as he was known to do in simpler times. Instead he no longer showed any emotion at all.

“We’ll wait for you,” Gwenvael said, and left.

Dagmar heard another shout and then more slamming from behind closed doors, but it was Talaith who jumped at the noise yet again.

“I can’t concentrate when they get like this!” She looked at Dagmar. “How do you ignore it?”

“You so clearly have not met any of my family.”

Talaith let out a breath and returned to the book in front of her.

Dagmar glanced over at the woman. She hadn’t been sleeping, the circles under her eyes a clear indication of that. Instead she spent nearly every moment trying to help Annwyl in a last ditch effort to save her life. Or, on occasion, helping Dagmar. “Talaith, perhaps you should get some rest?”

“I can rest when she’s dead,” she answered gruffly. Then, horrified at her own words, she shoved the book away from her and covered her mouth with her hand. “Good gods.”

Dagmar rested her hand on Talaith’s shoulder. “There’s only so much you can do.”

“I know. But I can’t stop hoping that Morfyd or I will find something, anything, that can bring her back. Even Rhiannon’s power won’t hold for much longer.”

Dagmar sat back in her chair, her maps and notes spread out in front of her. “Tomorrow?”

Talaith shook her head, immediately understanding what Dagmar’s real question was.

“More like tonight.”

“Does Fearghus know?”

“Has anyone told him? No. Does he know? I strongly think yes.”

Letting out a breath, Dagmar sat up and began to lean over the maps again when she saw him. He strode through the doors and absolutely no one paid him any mind. Considering the way the security had been ridiculously amplified—at Gwenvael’s firm direction—the fact that no one would even look his way irked her. She’d specifically added that even dragons in human form were to be questioned or Gwenvael’s kin alerted.

“Who is that?” She motioned to him with her chin and Talaith looked directly at the dragon.

“Who? Samuel the washing boy?”

Dagmar frowned and looked again, quickly realizing Talaith spoke of the boy currently on his knees scrubbing the floor.

“Not him.” She searched for him again and saw him casually walking up the stairs. “Him.”

Talaith stared blankly at the stairs. “Who?”

“You see nothing?”

“Am I supposed to see something?” She made it sound as if Dagmar had lost her mind. Dagmar knew witches like Talaith and Morfyd could see what others could not, but as long as Dagmar wore her spectacles, she wasn’t blind. She knew what she saw … so why hadn’t Talaith seen as well?

Pushing her chair back, she stood. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Lifting the skirt of her gown, Dagmar went up the stairs after him. As she stepped into the hall, she realized he’d disappeared. Perhaps he was someone’s lover, stopping in for a visit. Yet she heard no doors opening or closing. Saw no midmorning light momentarily streaking into the hallway as someone entered a room.

She headed down one hall, turned, and went down another. She walked toward the room Annwyl lay in but stopped short when she saw the man reappear from the twins’ nursery. This time he held Annwyl’s twins in his arms. He stood in the hallway, bold as brass, in front of the guards who were supposed to be protecting the babes and their nursemaids. But the guards didn’t move. They didn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Then she understood. They didn’t see him, Talaith didn’t see him—no one saw him. No one but Dagmar.

It was something Aoibhell herself used to complain about in the letters Ragnar had given Dagmar. She wrote faithfully to a friend, mostly reiterating her beliefs—or lack thereof. But a few times, something she said hadn’t made much sense to Dagmar. Until now.

“At first they were always so surprised when I could see them, Anne. Now they stop by for chats. Tea. It’s like I can’t get rid of them. It seems to only happen to those who truly do not worship. Not the ones trying to annoy their family or who feel betrayed when someone close to them dies. But the ones who truly understand that the gods are no better than anyone else.”