What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(124)

Dagmar looked down at the babe in her arms. Everything about the child spoke of power and beauty and strength. The proud, high forehead. The strong arms and legs. The fear-inducing scowl.

“Talwyn.” She glanced at the boy. “And Talan.”

Annwyl gazed up at her. “What?”

“Talwyn and Talan. They’re good names. Very old, but have strength behind them.” She nodded. “Yes. Talwyn and Talan.”

Resting her head against the chair back, Annwyl said out loud, “Talwyn the Terrible. Talwyn the Terrorizing. Talan the Tenacious. Talan the Terrifying.”

Annwyl nodded, her smile wide and bright. “I like it!”

Dagmar sat down at the table, the babe in the curve of her arm, as she reached for the pitcher of water and a cup. “I thought you might.”

“Now, Lady Dagmar, tell me of your uncle Jökull.”

She grimaced. “Why must we ruin a beautiful morning by speaking of him?”

“Because I need to know why Gwenvael’s been insisting I send three legions to help your father.”

Dagmar lowered the cup of water to the table, untouched. “How long has he been asking for three legions?”

“Since the beginning. That’s what he told Briec when he was still in the Northlands and then what he told me upon his return.” She rubbed noses with her son, making him giggle. “He’s a little too young to giggle, isn’t he?”

“Do you really want me to answer that?”

“No. Let’s stay on topic. Your uncle.”

For more than an hour Dagmar told Annwyl about Uncle Jökull and why her father needed the help. It was an amiable chat, but Dagmar couldn’t tell if the Blood Queen would be giving her what she needed. The queen wasn’t so easy to read when she wasn’t psychotically trying to massacre someone.

Yet the most entertaining moment for Dagmar had to be when she watched the queen’s reaction to her babe’s diaper change. Eventually Dagmar had to take over, and the queen decided then, her face filled with disgust, “We need to get back to Garbhán Isle and let the nursemaids handle this sort of thing. Because I think I’m going to be sick.”

Minotaur blood, gore, and brains she had no problems with. Her own children’s dirty diapers—hell on earth.

As the children slept peacefully in their crib and the two women continued to chat, Dagmar noticed that Annwyl had slowly pulled one of her swords from her scabbard. Yet not once did she ever stop the flow of conversation.

Dagmar continued to talk until she, too, felt a presence in one of the tunnels closest to her.

It took another five minutes before Ghleanna cautiously stepped into the alcove. As she did, Annwyl was up, her blade raised and at the ready. Ghleanna automatically went for her own sword, and Dagmar stood.

“Stop it! Both of you. What do you think you’re doing?”

There were others behind Ghleanna, but they seemed more than happy to let her take the first hit.

Ghleanna motioned to Annwyl, “She still mad? Do I need to protect the babes?”

“Of course not.”

But for some unknown reason Annwyl suddenly jerked her entire body, forcing Ghleanna and the others to pull their weapons.

Dagmar gave Annwyl a scathing glare—which made the mad queen grin—and looked back at Ghleanna. “Everything is fine. Perhaps you should just tell me—”

Annwyl jerked again, making the Cadwaladr Clan extremely nervous. More swords were raised, more dragons in human form entered the getting-smaller-by-the-moment alcove with their weapons drawn, and things could turn ugly at any moment. That’s when Dagmar lost patience and slammed her hands down on the wood table, yelling, “Whatever you’re doing stop it right now!”

Her sudden outburst was followed by a loud thump from the alcove she’d slept in and a screamed, “I never touched her!”

Thoroughly embarrassed, Dagmar took off her spectacles and rubbed her eyes, while around her the room filled with hysterical laughter.

Gwenvael woke up naked on the floor and he wasn’t sure how he got there. He distantly remembered laughter and the bellowed, “Must you embarrass me?” but that could have happened moments ago or twenty years ago. Gods knew it wouldn’t have been the first time that question had been tossed at him. In his opinion, everyone was too easily embarrassed. If one feared embarrassment, they feared living.

He washed up in the basin, pulled on his brown leggings and boots, and walked out to the main cavern. But he stopped as soon as he stepped inside the alcove with the dining table and stared at his kin. They’d made themselves quite comfortable in Fearghus’s den, which his brother would not appreciate one bit.

Ghleanna played with one babe, the girl, holding her high over her head and making unattractive silly faces, while Addolgar held the boy, bragging that, “he already snarls just like his grandfather.”

And Dagmar was nowhere to be seen.

As Gwenvael stood there, dazed, Fearghus came out of another tunnel and walked up to him.

“Why are they all here?” Fearghus asked.

“I don’t know.”

“How do I get them to go away?”

“I don’t know.”

“What if I ‘shoo’ them?”

“They’re like crows. They’ll just come back.”