Their one night together did not mean anything more than what it was.

But she was worried about him. Everyone seemed to be taking all of this so hard. Even the servants and the soldiers. On her way in, she'd pa.s.sed poor Izzy running out. She didn't bother trying to stop her, knowing the girl needed her own time to deal with this.

She knew Gwenvael loved Annwyl, and she felt the almost overwhelming need to care for him, which seemed absolutely ridiculous.

Besides, would Gwenvael even want that kind of comfort? At least from her?

She hated feeling like this. Insecure and confused. It wasn't like her, but she guessed everyone had these moments.

The door was s.n.a.t.c.hed open and she looked up into Gwenvael's face.

"How long were you going to stand out here?"

"I didn't want to bother you. I just-"

He grabbed her hand and dragged her into the room, slamming the door shut. He pulled her over to the bed and pushed her onto it.

"Roll onto your side," he ordered. "Facing the window."

"All right." She did as he bade, the bed behind her dipping a bit as Gwenvael, fully dressed, crawled in behind her. His arm wrapped around her waist and he moved in close behind her. He rested his chin against the top of her head, and they both lay there staring out the window.

Neither spoke, nor moved, and they remained where they were until the two suns rose the next morning.

Chapter 25.

Keita the Virtuous, a name recently given to her that would cause her brother Gwenvael to roll around the floor and laugh like a hatchling should he hear it, stared out over the cold, hard lands of the Northlands. She was in Horde territory, standing on the flat mountaintop of the Olgeirsson Horde lair, and all she could see for miles and miles in either direction were more snow-covered mountaintops.

But for nearing two weeks now, she'd been trapped in this place ... with these dragons.

She had yet to meet a Lightning who wasn't a barbarian. Appalling manners, distasteful habits, and brains the size of cooked peas. Every day had been a new experience in dealing with idiots.

Yet, as with most idiots, they were crafty enough.

Her talons brushed the steel collar locked around her neck. A long chain went from it to the spike buried in the floor and surrounded by several-feet-deep marble.

Aye. Crafty cretins, one and all. They weren't smarter than her, but she'd realized quickly that aggression would only put her in deeper. They were used to Southland females like Keita's mother, Queen Rhiannon. No matter the situation, Rhiannon only reacted with aggression and violence. Morfyd had always been weaker, but she wasn't above using her Magicks to fight off her enemies. Unfortunately for Keita, her Magick skills were basic. She was a dragon, so automatically a Magickal being by nature, but she had no spells that could move mountains or turn a dragon's blood to metal spikes. When she shot flame, it came out straight and true. Her mother's flame could snake around corners and into crevices. She used it like a whip.

Her brother Briec also had skills far superior to many dragons, Fearghus a little less. But Keita, Gwenvael, and eibhear only had the dragon basics, which meant she had to find other ways out of this h.e.l.l.

What helped her, though, was the fact that there seemed to be nothing but males around her. Big, lonely males who were ready to settle down with a mate and have hatchlings of their own. Because females were so scarce, they'd have to fight for her in a tournament called The Honour. Brother against brother, kin against kin-all to be the one to Claim Keita. To put their brand on her, as if she were some farmer's cattle.

That may have been her mother's way, but it wasn't what Keita wanted. It never would be. She liked her life just as it was. With human males hard and ready at the asking, beautiful gowns, and the freedom to go anywhere she pleased at any time. She answered to no one, and that included her mother or some male who thought he might own her.

For two weeks, she'd been amusing herself with the idiot kin of Olgeir the Wastrel, blocking her whereabouts from her parents and siblings. She knew her brothers well enough to know they'd come for her. They'd die for her, and she'd die for them. But after one night among the Olgeirsson Horde, she knew the risk they would most surely take would be unnecessary.

Even more importantly, it would also be unnecessary to let her mother know Keita had gotten herself into this mess. And, oh, how Rhiannon would love to know about all this. There were few things in this world Keita dreaded, but her mother's mocking laughter was definitely top of her list. From her hatching, the great Dragon Queen had made it perfectly clear Keita was not remotely what she'd wanted for an offspring. No great Magick like her older sister and no battle-honed skills like her brothers. "She's good enough for a fist fight, I suppose," Rhiannon would often say, "but I'd never put a battle lance in her claws."

In the end, letting her mother know she'd been captured by the Horde was unacceptable, but more importantly it was unnecessary. Although it would take time, she knew she'd get out of here without even having to crack a talon.

And, steadily, every day, she'd been nearing that goal. Until last night. Until she felt pain like she'd never felt before. Not physical as she'd briefly felt from Gwenvael almost a week ago. Something else. Something from her Fearghus that tore into her like a spear.

She'd felt his loss. Felt it as if it were her own. She knew then she had to get home. She'd played with these fools long enough and she'd run out of time. As had Annwyl, apparently.

"Lady Keita?"

She gave herself one more moment to stare off into the distance before she turned to face the Lightning behind her. He threw down a half-eaten carca.s.s at her feet.

"For you," he said gruffly.

It took everything not to let out a sigh and roll her eyes, but she plastered on her sweetest smile, making sure her fangs twinkled in the torch light. "That is so kind of you," she said sweetly. "I was just thinking I was a little hungry."

He stepped closer. "The Honour is to take place in three days, my lady. I will make you mine then."

She lowered her eyes and sauntered toward him.

"Your words," she said against his ear as she pa.s.sed him, her tail easing up his chest, "arouse me, my lord."

She heard his panting, knew he wanted her. It did not surprise her when he suddenly turned and grabbed her, pulling her until their scales touched. He was much bigger than her; she had to bend her head back to get a good look at him.

"I will make you mine," he growled.

"Lady Keita, I-"

The younger Lightning stopped as Keita jerked out of the other's arms. She made sure to look alarmed, confused-weak.

The younger Lightning slammed down his gift on top of the older one's. Keita blinked. Good G.o.ds. Is that a tree? Who gifts a tree?

She absolutely dreamed of the day she could tell Gwenvael this story.

"You cheatin' b.a.s.t.a.r.d."

"Back off, little snake. Wouldn't want you to lose your head over somethin' you'll never get."

The younger one-who had yet to learn to control his pa.s.sions, whether love or hate-went for his brother.

Keita moved back as much as she could with the chain still holding her in place. But as she knew it would, the sound of their scuffle lured the others.

"What's going on?" one of the older ones demanded.

"He was going to f.u.c.k her! I caught him!"

She almost laughed outright. c.o.c.ky bunch of dumba.s.ses, weren't they?

But with more of Olgeir's brood joining in, the fight was getting ugly and the guards were called. She moved toward the door as two dragon guards ran in.

"Stop them please!" she begged. She'd convinced them all she only wanted the best for Olgeir and his kin-as if she cared. They rushed forward, first one and then the other. It was the other's neck that Keita's tail whipped around, yanking him back at such an angle that it snapped his neck clean. A lovely trick her father had taught her. "You may be smaller than the males," he'd always told her, "but you can use their weight and stupidity against them. Never forget that." She hadn't.

She s.n.a.t.c.hed the key ring hanging from his breastplate and unlocked the collar at her throat.

Backing into the shadows, she waited as more kinsmen tore into the room and joined the fray. Then she inched her way to the edge of the flat mountaintop. She gave herself another second, enjoying the spray of blood beginning to cover the floor, and then she dropped backward off the landing.

She stayed silent as she fell toward the ground, her eyes focused on the area she'd just escaped from. The fight continued, but calls of her disappearance didn't come.

Grinning, Keita flipped forward and unfurled her wings. The power of the wind at her back took her and she headed south.

Nothing stopped her and she stayed near the tops of the trees. Eventually they'd realize she'd gone and would send out scouts to track her down. She'd have to be wily and fast to stay out of their grasp. But her brothers needed her, and she wouldn't let anything stop her.

It was when she pa.s.sed over the Torment River that she knew she had two males on her tail. She did her best flying, using trees and rocks and even birds to keep them off her back.

They were persistent, though. Determined. Finally throwing a net over her. She sneered, her talons slashing against the soft material. But when nothing happened, she looked down. Yet it was not her claw she saw ... but her hand.

"What in all the h.e.l.ls-"

The net closed fully around her human body, and Keita fell like a stone. She screamed as land rushed up to meet her, the sound cutting off abruptly when strong dragon arms caught her and carefully brought her to the ground.

"Here we are, Princess Keita." Lightning strikes dotted around her for a moment as the Lightning shifted from dragon to human before he carefully placed her on the ground. "Nice and safe."

She waited while the net was slowly removed, biding her time. She stayed curled on her side, panting.

"Is she hurt?" another voice asked.

"No. But she wants us to believe she is. Don't you, my lady?"

Realizing she had no more time to spare, Keita came up. She had her hands curled into fists and punched twice, knocking her abductor back several steps. She ran, needing to get her feet off that cursed netting. But she didn't get far as her abductor's arm swung out and, without him even touching her, sent Keita flying back. Her squeal of surprise and outrage at the brutal use of Magick was cut short as her human form rammed into the base of the nearby mountain.

Now she wasn't pretending anything. She couldn't move or speak, too exhausted to fight as the Lightning crouched beside her and clipped the small, human-sized collar around her throat. The power of that Magickal item plowed through her, leaving her a shuddering pile of human flesh at his feet.

Big fingers brushed her hair from her face.

"Red," another voice said about her hair.

"Pretty," said another.

"Tricky," said the one looking down at her. He smiled when she glared up into his face. "h.e.l.lo, Princess Keita. I'm Ragnar. I am sorry I had to end your trip back to your brother and his dying pet, but I have need of you. And until I tell you differently, princess ... you're mine."

Dagmar closed the doors to Violence's stables. She'd brought him and his mares a basket of apples and stayed with them until Violence finally ate. The stable dog whined on the other side of the door, more than ready to follow her back to her room. He was a very sweet dog, but he had other responsibilities.

"Quiet now," she said through the thick wood. "Go lie down."

The mutt sniffed a bit under the crack, but eventually went back to his warm bed and cold food.

Dagmar turned to head back to the castle but stopped short when she saw Queen Rhiannon standing behind her-staring.

"You have a way with animals, I see."

"Yes, my lady. I raise dogs for my father's troops."

"You do?" She frowned in disapproval. "Is that an appropriate task for the Only Daughter of a Northland warlord?"

"No. But my father could not deny my talents."

The dragoness moved toward her. She seemed to glide, in a way. "My son tells me you have other talents."

Dagmar couldn't help it. Her eyes widened in shock and she felt as if she'd wandered into the Great Hall completely naked.

The queen frowned again and then gasped. "Oh, G.o.ds! No, no. Not like that."

The pair began to laugh and immediately stopped, realizing how out of place it sounded and felt. But they had both been startled.

"I forget sometimes that Gwenvael is not like his brothers. What I meant to say is he told me you have a skill with words and negotiations."

This time Dagmar was surprised but flattered. She'd had no idea Gwenvael had praised her so to his mother. "I ... have helped my father when-"

The queen raised her hand and swiped it through the air. "Please, Lady Dagmar. I am in no mood for false modesty."

Dagmar folded her arms across her chest. "Is this about Ragnar?"

She snorted. "I can handle that Horde hatchling myself. He's a mage, you know? Not a bad one either. I can feel his power among the lines of Magick. But I guess all that means nothing to you as a follower of Aoibh.e.l.l."

"I'm not a follower. I agree with her teachings."

Rhiannon gave a small snicker. "Even suggesting you may worship Aoibh.e.l.l herself is an insult to those who believe in her word."

"To turn her into a G.o.d would go against everything she believed." Dagmar briefly glanced at the ground. "What is it you want from me, my lady?"

"I'll be blunt since I'm not good with subtlety. I'm having an issue. It involves Annwyl's twins. I need the help of a devious mind combined with a ..."

"Barbarian will?"

The Dragon Queen leered. "Exactly."

"I can help you." As she'd promised to help Annwyl. And as long as the human queen breathed, she'd keep that promise.

Dagmar motioned away from the stables with a wave of her hand. "Tell me everything, Majesty, and we'll figure it out from there."

Olgeir stared out over the edge where he'd guessed Lady Keita had made her escape. At his feet, one of his favorite guards lay dead from an expertly broken neck, and behind him were the idiots he called sons.

"We'll go after her," his oldest said. "We'll find her."

"It's too late!" He turned and his sons backed up. He may be old, but for dragons that only made them harder to kill. "Can't you smell him? On the air? He already has her."