True, she could have revealed Kikka's whoring ages ago, but why waste the power? More importantly, Kikka kept her brother happy with more brats while Sigmar worried less about the state of his sons' marriages and more about important things like Jkull.

And, she could admit to herself, while she sat up here on the barrack roof, that Kikka did provide a form of entertainment Dagmar could not indulge in otherwise.

She enjoyed watching. It was a flaw, but she only used it against those who would try to take what she'd fought so hard for all these years. As long as Kikka remained ineffectual, her secrets were safe with Dagmar.

Kikka slipped into the stablemaster's room. Horses were so important in the Northlands, so revered by the warriors that the position of stablemaster paid incredibly well and often included a house on the grounds.

Thankfully this stablemaster's small house included lovely windows that he never closed the small wooden doors on. When he moved toward Kikka, his intentions clear, Dagmar reached into her satchel and pulled out the specially made spectacles Brother Ragnar had given her several years ago. Unlike the ones she wore on her face, these were much larger, needing both her hands to hold them. Nor did she wear them per se, but simply held them up to her eyes, the leather they were encased in allowing her a wonderful grip. While her regular spectacles were merely to see what she should normally see in front of her, these were so she could see much farther away ... and in fascinating detail.

She grinned when she saw the stablemaster tear off Kikka's gown. How would the girl explain the state of her dress when she returned to the fortress? And she had to know by now that Eymund would realize another gown had been "accidentally" damaged. Her brother was stingy with his coin and Kikka's allure had worn off long ago. Much to Kikka's growing dismay, if Dagmar was guessing right. The servants told Dagmar of nasty arguments and her brother spending more and more time in the local pubs with his comrades and kinsmen-and bar wenches.

With Kikka's dress and shift torn open, the stablemaster, Valtemar, bent her over his arm and feasted on her absurdly large b.r.e.a.s.t.s. As Dagmar watched, enjoying herself thoroughly, she still grimaced a little at his performance.

"He is lacking technique, isn't he?"

Mortified and shocked all at the same time, Dagmar lowered the big spectacles to her lap and turned her head to the left. She blinked, looked behind her, then to her right.

"He has eagerness, but he also has a bit of ... well ... s...o...b..r."

Again, she looked to her left. But all she could see were the tops of other buildings close by, the tops of trees off in the distance. But even though she couldn't see anything beside her, she still felt ...

Stretching out her hand, she hit something hard and smooth. Her hand slid down the surface, trying to understand what she was touching.

"That feels wonderful."

Dagmar s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand back. "Show yourself, dragon."

The darkness shimmered and what was not there was now there. Gold scales, large wings tight against his body, talons, fangs. He was facing her, his back to the world behind him, his long tail with the clean blunt end swung lazily back and forth over the edge of the roof.

"Lady Dagmar. It is a beautiful night."

She didn't reply; she was too annoyed he'd found her. Too annoyed he'd seen her.

Fire surrounded the dragon, and Dagmar quickly turned her head, the heat of it feeling much too close for her comfort. Then, moments later, he sat down beside her. As human.

And naked.

Like he had in his bedroom, he placed his arms behind him to prop up his upper body, his palms flat against the roof slats. His long legs were bent at the knees, his ridiculously large feet planted firmly in front of him. But it was his sizable c.o.c.k, lying lazily against his thigh that had the saliva in her mouth drying up immediately. Mighty reason, if that's him flaccid ...

Forcing herself to look away, she asked, "Are you not chilly?"

"No."

She handed him one of her fur blankets. "Put this on anyway."

He chuckled, spreading the fur out over his lap. "Did you even peek?"

"I don't need to. I see naked men everyday."

"But none as superb as I." That was truth, but she'd not admit it out loud.

"Why are you here?"

"Came to see the sights. Just as you have." Dagmar didn't reply to his glib remark; instead she a.n.a.lyzed how bad this could get for her.

He could try to use this against her, but only if she allowed him to. Her father would not be pleased, but no matter which way she examined it, it all seemed to be worse for Kikka, which could easily distract attention from Dagmar. It was Kikka who was betraying Eymund. It was Kikka who was- "You can stop."

Dagmar glanced at him. "I can stop what?"

"Trying to figure out how I'll use this against you."

"I wasn't-"

"Because I won't be."

Dagmar closed her mouth, stared straight ahead. "You won't?"

"No. Is that wine?" He leaned across her and grabbed the bottle.

"Why?"

"Why what?" He unhooked the top, took a long gulp-and choked. "G.o.ds in the underworld! What is this?"

"My father's wine. It's not as smooth as the wines from the south."

"It's not as smooth as jagged gla.s.s." But he took another gulp anyway before handing it back to her. She started to reach for her chalice, but it seemed to be the kind of night where one drinks right from the bottle. So she did, taking several mouthfuls before she locked the top back into place.

"So you say you won't use this against me."

"I won't."

"And why is that? We both know there's something you want from me. Something I won't give. So why wouldn't you use this to bargain with?"

"For two reasons. One, that would make you an enemy. And I don't want you as an enemy. In fact, you're the last person in all the Northlands that I can afford to have as an enemy."

"You're right," she admitted.

"I know. Were I to use any of this, I'd get the truth, to be sure. But only part of it. Enough to make me go away, but not enough to really help me. Not enough to keep Queen Annwyl safe."

He was right. He was exactly right. "And the second reason?"

The dragon smiled. "I like to watch too. It would be hypocritical of me to use that against another."

"I do not watch for enjoyment. I merely need to be sure-"

"Don't"-he shook his head, his expression serious-"don't lie to me." He swung his arm out, encompa.s.sing the vast lands around them. "Lie to everyone. Tell them all that they want to hear while you get what you want. But don't lie to me."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because we understand each other too well, Dagmar, to bother with the smaller games."

She was confused by his directness. Confused and intrigued.

"So what are you suggesting, Lord Gwenvael?"

"Is that the dessert from tonight?"

She glanced at the rich dessert lying on a cloth beside her. For a moment, it seemed she didn't even remember bringing it. "Yes."

"Mind?" he asked while reaching over her and grabbing it. "It was really good. You have excellent cooks."

"We do."

He used his fingers to tear off a piece of the dessert and drop it into his mouth. He let out a sigh as the flavor burst against his tongue. "Just wonderful."

"What are you suggesting, dragon?"

He licked his lips and said, "I'm suggesting several things. But most importantly that we not see each other as combatants."

"But aren't we?"

"Only if we want nothing out of this." He licked delicious paste and dough from the tips of his fingers. "I'm not blind, Dagmar. These are serious defenses built on your father's lands. There are hidden pits filled with oil just waiting to be lit, constant patrols, the lovely spikes you have built into the ground, waiting for the right trigger to unleash them. And I know those are only the few I spotted."

"And your point?"

"There are basic defenses, and there are wartime defenses. Clearly war is coming here."

"War is here." She let out a breath, and in that moment, all pretenses, all illusions went away and Gwenvael knew he was talking to the true Dagmar Reinholdt. The one her kinsmen never saw and didn't want to see. And it was this Dagmar who was taking a chance on him.

"My father earned this land when he was only seventeen. Six of his brothers are loyal to him, three of them are dead, two side with Jkull, and then there's Jkull himself."

She pulled off a chunk of the dessert as he held it out for her. "Jkull is determined to get this land for himself. He and his armies raided the town and lands near the fortress a few years back. We were caught unprepared and ... It was very bad. Eymund's first wife was there and she was killed. It's a great source of shame for him."

"Jkull killed her?"

"It depends who you ask. The Code which my father and kinsmen live by, says that blood- or marriage-related females are to be kept unharmed." She looked off, out at the lands. "The men of my family refuse to believe Jkull would stoop so low, would willingly break the Code. They prefer to believe her death was an accident."

"You don't believe that."

"I believe Jkull follows no code but his own."

"And you think he's planning to strike again."

"Whether he is or he isn't, it behooves us to be ready."

Gwenvael pulled off another piece of the dessert. "And an alliance with Annwyl would-"

She shook her head. "I cannot bargain with you over that alliance. You'll have to do that with my father."

"Charming as your kinsmen may be, Lady Dagmar"-he licked cream off his thumb-"it is you that I trust to handle anything that requires actual thought and reason."

She looked away abruptly, and he knew she was trying not to laugh.

"Allow me to handle your father, Lady Dagmar."

Her smirk ill.u.s.trated her lack of faith in his skills. "If you think you can."

"I know I can."

Dagmar took another drink of wine and handed him the bottle.

"Interesting," he finally said.

"What is?"

He gestured toward the stablemaster's open windows with the wine bottle. "What he's doing to her."

Dagmar again lifted up to her eyes those large pieces of gla.s.s wrapped in leather. "Oh, my." She lowered the gla.s.ses, looked at him. "Isn't there some sort of proper preparation that's necessary for that sort of thing?" she asked.

"If you want her to enjoy it as well ... yes."

"Then that's just rude." She brought the gla.s.ses back up. "He is all over the place, isn't he?"

"There is no finesse there. She'd be better off getting mauled by a bear."

Dagmar laughed while she kept watching. Something told him she didn't laugh nearly as much as she'd like to.

"Three gold pieces the mauling bear story is what she tells my brother happened to her."

"No, no. Three gold pieces that he believes it."

They watched until the bitter end, the dragon's comments nearly bringing her to tears of laughter. Even more rewarding was that she'd made him laugh as well. She'd never really been considered entertaining before and she could definitely see the allure of it.

When Kikka finally limped and tottered her way back to the fortress, Dagmar packed up the few things she'd brought with her and the dragon stepped off the roof, effortlessly shifting back to his natural form in midair.

"Come, Beast. I will take you back."

"Take me back?"

He landed on the roof of the barracks, surprising her with his lightness. In the morning the soldiers wouldn't be wondering what shook their building.

"Aye." He turned a bit and lowered himself. "Climb on."

Flying? He wanted to take her flying?

"I-"

"Come on. You know you want to try." He grinned and showed all those fangs. It worried her more that she wasn't worried at all. "I promise I won't drop you."