What a Dragon Should Know (Dragon Kin #3)(63)

“I’m not going with you, but I will give you the information you need and I have maps that should help.”

“Good. You’ll bring them with you when we leave for the Southlands in the morning.”

He had to know this was dangerous. Ragnar wanted her in the south for a reason, but neither of them knew why. “Don’t be foolish, Gwenvael.”

“I’m not.” He grabbed the wine and settled on the ground, his back against the trunk. He took her hand and tugged her to his side. The thought of sitting on the ground did nothing for her, but it seemed an evening for such things.

Taking a sip, he handed her the bottle. “Before we do anything, though, I need answers to important questions. Honest, direct answers.”

“All right.”

“What’s coming for Annwyl?”

“Minotaurs.”

He sighed. “I asked for honest, direct answers.”

“And that’s what you got.”

“Minotaurs? Standing cows are coming for Annwyl? You want me to believe that?”

“Standing cows that are trained from birth to kill in the name of whatever gods their elders worship.”

“Did Ragnar tell you about the Minotaurs?”

“He did. But I heard it from others. I believe it’s true.”

“Fine. Then I’ll believe it’s true as well.” Gwenvael took another drink of wine. “I have to say the day is getting stranger.”

“And your second question?”

“How did you get the name Beast?”

Dagmar rubbed her forehead, the pain of her past returning violently. “And that’s important to know why?”

“Tell me.”

Dagmar held her hand out. “More wine.”

“When I was thirteen,” she began, suddenly looking much younger than her thirty winters, “one of my father’s nephews came to visit. He was much older than I, but we’d never gotten along. Apparently I was a ‘know-it-all bitch who should be tossed into a convent’ while he ‘should have been strangled at birth and thrown off a mountainside as our ancestors used to do.’ Needless to say, when he came to visit this time, we kept our distance. Yet he was never a smart boy and rumors quickly spread that he’d been making fun of me to his men. Telling them I was ‘growing into a right beast.’ I ignored it, even though my father and brothers had also heard the same rumors. But I didn’t say a word or complain. Just didn’t see the point.

“One night, a day or so before he was supposed to return to his father’s lands, I left the kennels and was about to enter the fortress. I heard one of the servant girls and went around the corner to make sure everything was all right. I didn’t like what I saw and she seemed to be even unhappier, so I grabbed my cousin and pulled him away. Angry and drunk, he grabbed my throat and punched me in the face, breaking my spectacles.”

“Bastard.”

She chuckled, but kept with her story. “As usual, however, I was not alone. I had Canute’s great-grandfather with me. As he’d been trained to do, he took my cousin to the ground by the throat and held him there, waiting for my next command.” She stopped, took another gulp of wine. “My cousin was begging me to call him off, and by this point my father and three eldest brothers were standing behind me after they’d been fetched by the servants. I looked at my father and said, ‘I shouldn’t.’ He replied, ‘But as a Northlander, we all know you will.’ I knew what was expected, so I did it.” She swallowed. “I gave the command and my dog … finished him. The next day my father sent the remains back to my uncle with a note that read, ‘A little gift from The Beast.’ ”

“And that uncle was Jökull?”

She nodded. “And that was Jökull’s favorite son. Not long after was the siege that killed my brother’s wife.”

“You blame yourself.”

“Sometimes. I can’t help but wonder where we’d be if I’d only given a different command.”

“Too late for those thoughts. They don’t help. Besides, I don’t worry about what I should have done. I only worry about what I’m going to do now.”

“Yes. That sounds about right for you.”

He got to his feet. “Come on. We need to get ready.”

“You still plan to bring me to the Southlands?” She held out her hand and he grabbed it, easily hauling her to her feet. “Seems foolish to me.”

“Maybe. We’ll see.” But he didn’t think so. Nothing had ever felt more right before in Gwenvael’s life than taking Dagmar Reinholdt to Dark Plains with him.

“I’ll need to send my father another letter before we go.” She wiped the dirt from the back of her skirt with both hands and gave that wicked little grin he’d learned to enjoy. “And I think I could use your help with wording.”

Sigmar shoveled food into his mouth and completely ignored his daughter-in-law. Ever since Dagmar had gone off with the dragon, his oldest boy’s wife had been more and more impossible.

It wasn’t news that she hated his daughter, but she needed to face the fact that she didn’t stand a chance against The Beast. Few did.

“All I’m suggesting is that a marriage between her and Lord Tryggvi would do you very well.”