The dragon looked down. “By the gods, they actually talked the old bastard into it. Hold on!”
She managed only a yelp before they seemed to be diving directly at the lake and the dragons surrounding it. Even more horrifying was the dark brown dragon heading right for them. They seemed to be on a collision course, and there was nothing Dagmar could do except grit her teeth and prepare to leap for safety into the lake. Of course, as high up as they were, she’d die on impact, but what choice did she have?
But the pair of dragons stopped with barely an inch between them.
“You idiot bastard! Did you think you could take me on?” the dark brown one demanded.
“Of course I can. But didn’t want to have to explain to the queen how I had to kill one of my own blood.”
Laughing, they reared up and hugged, which left Dagmar sliding off the dragon’s back, the only thing keeping her from falling to her death the grip she had on his hair.
“Falling!” she screamed. “Falling! Falling! Falling!”
“What?” Gwenvael glanced back at her. “Oh!” He went back to a more lateral hover and Dagmar rested against his back, her breath panting out of her.
“Sorry. Forgot you were back there.”
“Bastard,” she muttered.
The other dragon flew around to look at her. “Well … hello.” He gave her a smile that she assumed he thought was endearing but, considering the number of fangs in his mouth, was anything but. “I’m Fal of the Cadwaladr Clan. Mightiest dragons of the land.”
She heard Gwenvael snort but ignored him. “Dagmar Reinholdt. Of the Northlands.”
“A Northland woman? Ho, ho, cousin! You’ve outdone yourself.”
“Shut up.”
He held out a long black talon and Dagmar took hold. A sort of dragon-to-human handshake. “I am very glad to meet you, Lady Dagmar.” He leaned in a bit, his snout extremely close. “Whatever this golden bastard has told you is a lie and I’m the pretty one.”
“I already know that, and I’m sure you are.” She winked at him, and Fal laughed.
“I like her, cousin.”
“Mitts off, boy. She’s under my protection.”
“Is she?” Fal looked at her and back at Gwenvael. “Isn’t that what humans call putting the wolf in charge of the barn?”
“You’re still talking. I still hear you talking.”
Worried these two might get into a friendly family battle that would leave her dead next to the lake, Dagmar cut in, “You know, I’d love to have the ground beneath my feet once more before I die.”
“What?” Gwenvael asked. “Oh! Sorry. Sorry.” He bumped his cousin. “Move, you big-headed bastard. I need to get my lady to safety.”
“I’d stop here first before heading to the castle. Unless my lady is afraid of so many dragons in one place?”
Dagmar sniffed. “I’ve tolerated him for far longer than I thought I’d have to. I’m certain I can handle anything at this point.”
“What’s that mean?”
But Fal was laughing. “I like her. She’ll do fine here. Come on!” The brown headed down and Gwenvael followed.
“I like your cousin,” Dagmar said offhandedly and was shocked when Gwenvael abruptly stopped.
“And he’s a whore, so keep away from him.”
“But”—Dagmar tapped her chin—“Ragnar told me you’re The Defiler.”
“It’s Ruiner. Stop getting it wrong. And I have boundaries. My cousin has none. So no matter what he tells you, he’s simply trying to get under your skirt.”
Having never been warned off a male before, Dagmar sat back and enjoyed herself. “But what if I don’t mind him being under my skirt? What if I’d, in fact, like him to be under my skirt?”
“If you suddenly decide you simply must have someone under that skirt, you’re to let me know.”
Dagmar felt a sharp thrill. The dragon hadn’t kissed her or anything else since that time on Esyld’s bed. For the three days they’d been traveling together he’d been polite, protective, and extremely chatty, but he’d never touched her. She’d assumed he’d simply lost interest as she knew males of every species would do no matter how beautiful or not a woman might be.
“I’m to let you know? And why is that again?”
“Because you’re safe among my kin now, Beast, which allows me to focus on getting what I need.” He glanced back at her. “What we both need, I’d wager.”
“You really so sure?”
“As a matter of fact, Lady Dagmar”—Dagmar squeaked when she felt Gwenvael’s tail slap her rear—“I’m quite sure.”
Gwenvael wanted to shift to human as soon as he landed and get Dagmar back to the castle, but his family swarmed over him and before he knew it he was in the midst of hugs and slaps on the back that nearly broke his spine in two. Some of his kin he hadn’t seen in quite a while, but it would be hard for anyone to tell, they’d so easily fallen back into their comfortable camaraderie.
While he greeted his kin, he kept a watchful eye on Dagmar. Although she appeared completely out of place, she didn’t seem unnerved or frightened by the dragons surrounding her. She didn’t try to hide or get herself to a safe place behind a tree. She simply stood there. His little self-contained volcano.
For nearly three nights he’d been alone with Dagmar. For nearly three nights he went out of his way not to make her feel uncomfortable or unsafe. And for three days his c*ck insisted on telling him what an idiot he was. Yet she was entrusting him with her life, even after finding out about the Lightning’s betrayal.
He wouldn’t take that trust for granted.
Glancing down, he watched as Dagmar wandered comfortably among his kin, her steady gaze focused on the ground. She’d stop, stare at something, and move on. Finally, when he pulled away from one of his many cousins and saw her doing it again, he had to ask, “What are you doing?”
“Comparing.”
“Comparing what?”
She looked up at him, her brows drawn together in a slight frown. “Why is your tail different from the others?”
In a group that was never silent, the sound of small birds could suddenly be heard.
“They all have this sharp spike at the end,” she said while pointing at one of his cousins’ tail. “Except yours.” He saw her fighting that wicked smile when she asked, “Were you born this horribly deformed? Or are all the royals missing basic defenses all other dragons are gifted with?”
Fal leaned forward before his cousin could and began, “What you need to do, my lady, is ask his brothers—”
Grabbing one of Fal’s horns, Gwenvael twisted and yanked his cousin back, sending him skidding into the lake.
“Let’s go.” He motioned at Dagmar with his talon.
“Aren’t you going to answer my very innocent question?”
“No, cheeky wench.” He slapped her ass with his “horribly deformed” tail. “Now walk!”
“Gwenvael! Gwenvael!”
He turned, looking for the voice he knew so well, already getting an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach.
“Up here!”
Slowly Gwenvael raised his eyes to the sky—and cringed. “Iseabail! What in all the hells are you doing?”
She grinned. “Flying!”
Yes. She was. And her mother would have a fit. Izzy wasn’t even on the back of one of the older dragons but had found her way to the youngsters … and Celyn, son of Gwenvael’s battle-honored Aunt Ghleanna. He would be a fine and well-known warrior one day when he came into his own. Until then he was like every other male of the Cadwaladr Clan at that age: lusty.
“Get down from there!”
“What? Can’t hear you!”
He rolled his eyes as Celyn winked and did an impressive dip that had Izzy squealing and laughing.
“Stop worrying, nephew. We won’t let anything happen to Briec’s girl.”
He looked at his aunt Ghleanna. Her black hair with the silver streaks of age was cut short, ready for battle as always, battle scars littering the face and torso of her dragonform.
“Her mother doesn’t want her flying. And I don’t want her flying with Celyn.”
“Celyn knows she’s family. And she and Branwen have become fast friends. Besides, we’ll watch out for her.” She motioned him away with her front claws. “Go. Take your lady to the castle and see your sister. I know she’s been worried for you.”
He smiled and leaned in, kissing her cheek. Before pulling back, he whispered, “She’s young, Ghleanna. Too young for Celyn.”
“She’s not as young as you’d like to believe,” she whispered back. “But I think we both know her heart belongs to another.”
Startled, Gwenvael leaned back and asked, “It does?”
She laughed and shoved his shoulder, nearly sending him flying. “Go on with ya, boy.”
Gwenvael took one last look at his niece, wincing when she raised her arms in the air and cheered when she should be holding on to Celyn with both hands.
No. Best not to think about it. But he would need to let Briec know to keep an eye out. Izzy listened to him above all others.
“All right, Beast, let’s go.” He motioned Dagmar forward with his claw. “Time for you to meet the queen.”
They had an array of human clothes lined up right outside the gates of Garbhán Isle, and yet none of the peasants or entering travelers went near them. They all seemed to know they were clothes for the dragons.
It must have been odd, Dagmar realized, for the Southland humans to suddenly realize they had dragons living among them so casually. As it was, Dagmar was still getting used to it. Believing a being existed was quite different from finding out you’d been tutored by at least one for the last twenty years.
Gwenvael changed into his human clothes, and they entered Garbhán Isle through the massive iron gates. It was then that Dagmar decided she might have actually chosen well with this ally. She didn’t know firsthand what Garbhán Isle was like under the former warlord’s rule, but now it was a thriving city, pulsating with power—and soldiers. Merchants sold everything from fruits, vegetables, and meats, to furs, and jewels, to more weapons than she could ever imagine. Weapons not only for humans but for dragons as well. In fact, there seemed to be just as many items for dragons as humans, ranging from whole skinned cows and deer for dinner to enormous lances made from the finest steel for battle.
“It’s all amazing, isn’t it?” Gwenvael asked her, his hand against her back as he led her through the large crowds of soldiers, travelers, merchants, and peasants.
“It is that.”
“I hope my family wasn’t too overwhelming back there by the lake,” he murmured as he gently led her around two arguing merchants.
“I find it amusing you’d ask that after meeting my kinsmen.”
He chuckled, his hand lingering on her waist as he pulled her to a stop. “Now before we go inside—”