He sat back in his chair. "If what you have to tell me is solid ... perhaps one legion."

"One?"

"That's fifty-two-hundred men, Lady Dagmar."

Dagmar let out a sigh, tapped her fingers against the table until grudgingly answering, "Fine."

"Good. Now tell me what you know."

"Someone wants your queen dead."

Dagmar jumped when Gwenvael's head hit the table, his arms flying out at his sides. "Is that the best you have to tell me?" Reason help her, he did have a love of the dramatic.

His head lifted from the table, and he speared her with his glare. "I know this already. Everybody wants her dead. They've wanted her dead for years! Tell me I haven't wasted my time here!"

"Are you done? Because I'm not."

"Thank the G.o.ds for that." He impatiently gestured for her to continue.

"It's my understanding that a party from the Ice Lands is making its way south, toward Dark Plains."

"The Ice Lands? I didn't know anyone even lived there."

"They do. You think this terrain is harsh? It's nothing compared to there. The people there are strong, hearty, and very unfriendly. And the bigger problem for you is that most travel underground."

"Whatever for?"

"There are sudden, deadly ice storms that hit at any moment of any day in the Ice Lands-hence the name." He snorted, and she continued. "So the dwarves began digging tunnels. First just leading from mine to mine, clan to clan. But they quickly realized they could make money offering ways in and out of the territory for those other than dwarves."

"You're telling me someone's sent a.s.sa.s.sins underground? That's worth about twenty army units, my lady."

"They're not a.s.sa.s.sins. There are hundreds of cults in the Ice Lands. They live to serve the G.o.ds who, in my opinion, deserted them long ago. The ones coming for your queen worshipped Arzhela. In honor of her they want your queen's babes. They want their blood. As you well know, my lord, those hired to fight are vastly different from those who believe in a cause. They'll stop at nothing. Absolutely nothing to kill your queen and her unborn offspring."

All drama and humor left the dragon's face as he stared at her, knowing the truth of her words. He slumped back in his chair. "Are you sure this information is accurate?"

"My source is impeccable."

"Understood." He pushed his chair back from the table. "One legion."

"Excellent."

He stood and Dagmar knew she had to take her chance now.

"There's something else."

Gwenvael looked down at her. "What?"

"The tunnels from the Ice Lands lead through the Northlands, into the south, until they reach the desert lands of Alsandair."

His face went blank, his jaw slack. "I don't ... what?"

"If they took the right tunnel, they could come up in the middle of your Main Hall and you wouldn't know it until they speared you clean, tore her apart, and took her babes." She sat back in her chair. "None of you know about the tunnels, do you?"

"I don't understand. If those tunnels exist, how come none of your kinsmen-"

"To bring a full army through there would be impossible. The dwarves made sure of that. Plus its use wasn't for Northlanders but for those from the Ice Lands who rarely call for war against anyone but each other. Most Northlanders don't even know the tunnels exist. And the few who do are not keen on the idea of battling anything underground. Tunnels are always risky."

"But you know this information."

"I have learned friends."

"You said if they take the right tunnels. I need to know which tunnels those are-I need to know all the tunnels."

Dagmar's toes curled in her boots. "I could get you that information." She took a breath. "For a price."

He rolled his eyes. "Fine. Two legions. Total."

"No."

"We're not back to five, are we?"

"No. One legion, for my father. As you promised."

"Then I don't understand-"

"I know who can help you, who can give you the information."

"All right."

"All you need to do ... is take me with you."

Gwenvael stared at her a long moment, her back straight, her eyes looking intently at him through those bits of gla.s.s. "You want to run away with me?"

It hadn't been the first time a woman had asked him, begged him even, to take her away from her life. But Dagmar only laughed. "By all reason! Of course I'm not asking to run away with you!"

"Then what are you asking me for?"

"The one who can give us the information is no more than a day's ride from here. Even less if we're flying. I go with you and help you get this information, and before you say it, you will need me to help you get this information. Then you bring me back." She snapped her fingers. "Even better you can take me to Gestur's."

"Who the h.e.l.l is Gestur?"

"He's my uncle. Loyal to my father."

"And why would you want to go there?"

"I have my reasons. Besides, he's planning to come out here anyway in another month or so. I could return with him. It would be my own little holiday away."

"Before you start enjoying your holiday, your father will never let you go. All that Northman Code to contend with."

"My father barely remembers my name. He refers to me as girl or little miss."

"I thought those were terms of endearment."

"Does he look endearing to you? But if you insist, it can be part of the deal that includes the legion and supplies-"

"What supplies?"

"The supplies you promised."

"I never promised you any supplies."

"You meant to."

"I did not." She was enjoying this entirely too much! He could see it by the little smirk on her face. She knew he needed the information on those b.l.o.o.d.y tunnels and she had no problem extorting him over it.

The world should be glad she hadn't been born a man. She'd be emperor by now.

"I'm not doing this."

"Why not?"

"Because you're up to something."

"A few hours of freedom are all I ask, Lord Gwenvael. Is that really too much?"

d.a.m.n her.

"You swear you'll really help me."

"On my life as a Reinholdt, anything I can do to help your queen, I will."

"Fine." He lowered his head, took several breaths, and when he looked at her again, he saw her through tears.

She reared back a bit. "What are you doing?"

Gwenvael didn't have time to warn her before her father came storming in, the simple fact the warlord hadn't bathed in at least two days giving him away to Gwenvael's poor nostrils. "What the h.e.l.l's going on?" Sigmar demanded, a pint in his hand.

Sniffing dramatically, Gwenvael gazed across the desk at Dagmar. Without even a twitch, she immediately stood and walked to her father's side. "Give us a moment, won't you, Lord Gwenvael?"

"Of course," he choked out, impressing even himself by the little added sob at the end.

Dagmar took her father out into the hallway again. She wanted to jump up and down and clap her hands, but that would definitely work against her. Instead she said, "Sorry about that. He's very upset."

"By all the war G.o.ds-what did you say to him?"

"It's not what I said, Father, but what I couldn't. I know there's more information from Brother Petur. You remember him, yes?" Good G.o.ds, why did she pull that man's name out of her a.s.s?

Perhaps because her father didn't find Petur remotely threatening. He belonged to an order that preached tolerance over war. Unlike Brother Ragnar's Order of the Warhammer or her other favorite, Order of the Burning Sword.

"Can't you show him on a map how to get to that idiot's convent?"

"It's not a convent, Father; that's for women." And how many times had she wished he'd sent her to one? "It's a monastery. And I gave him the directions there, but he wants me to go with him."

"Not in my life, girl. I'm not letting you out of here with that ... that ... weeper."

"Come now, why not? Surely you're not worried about my chast.i.ty." She laughed, even as delicious visions of dessert cream and a liberty-taking dragon tail swam into her head.

"What do you mean 'why not?' He can't protect you. He'll be too busy sobbing like a b.l.o.o.d.y girl while you're captured by some other warlord!"

"Keep your voice down! And his size alone will protect me." Her father grunted, which gave her hope she could convince him. "How about we do this? I go with him today, which will take a few hours, and then he can take me to Gestur's. He's barely two hours on foot from that monastery. I can bring the messages that you have for him and be back on safe Reinholdt ground before nightfall."

Her father's eyes narrowed. "You seem to have it all worked out."

She shrugged. "It's been ages since the cousins have been here. And Gestur can bring me back next month when he travels here."

"Next month?" Her father looked at her strangely and she had no idea what his expression meant. "I don't like it. And you still ain't given me much of a reason to send you."

"A legion."

"What?"

"As I told you, he wants to protect Annwyl the b.l.o.o.d.y. He's promised us a legion of her troops."

"And you believe him?"

"I do. That's fifty-two-hundred men, Father."

"Southlanders," he sneered.

"Human targets, I say. Keep Jkull busy until you can tear the skin from his bones."

A rare smile crossed her father's face. "Like your mother sometimes, you are. You've got a vengeful streak." Her father's compliments were rare and strange, but she took them eagerly nonetheless.

"I do. And if helping the weeper gets us what we need ... It's a small price to pay. For once, Father, please trust me."

"I always trust you're up to something, little miss." But he was no longer fighting her and they both knew it. "But you're sure, though? About being alone with him? You sure you'll be safe with him-he's still a male and I seen how your sisters-in-law have been watching him."

She eased the door open a bit, and her father looked in to see Gwenvael blowing his nose into a cloth and continuing to make choking noises. Dagmar raised her brow. "Unless I suddenly turn into Eymund ... I'm relatively certain I'll be just fine."

Chapter 10.