G A Aiken Dragon Bundle

by G. A. Aiken

  When nothing slithered or leaped out of the bag, she picked it up with her front claws and dug inside.

  “I don’t think you have enough parchment in here. And yes, that’s sarcasm.” She paused, pulling a robe out of his bag. “A monk? Really?”

  “An innocent nobleman’s daughter?” he asked in return. “Really?”

  “Point made, warlord.” She shoved the robe back in the bag and continued to dig. “Ooooh, shiny.”

  Ragnar watched the royal closely as she pulled the necklace out from the bottom of the bag and held it up. Her gaze moved from the necklace to Ragnar. “When you’re alone do you also wear a matching gown and pretty pink slippers to go with this?”

  “It was in your aunt’s house. Over her bed.”

  “Are the Northland dragons truly that poor you must steal a She-dragon’s lone piece of jewelry?”

  “Do you not recognize the style?”

  She studied the piece and finally shrugged. “I’ve seen this style, as you call it, in every market in every town in—”

  “Copies. Badly and cheaply made. This, however, is not.” He took hold of the necklace and turned it over. “It’s signed by the creator. Fucinus.”

  “I’m not familiar with his work.”

  “Not surprising. His only shop is in the heart of the Quintilian Sovereigns.”

  The royal blinked. “So?”

  Ragnar handed the necklace back to her. “When was the last time you were in the Sovereigns, princess? Has your mother an alliance with the iron dragons that I am not aware of?”

  “Are you suggesting…Esyld couldn’t have…she wouldn’t…she can’t be that…” Keita’s talons wrapped tight around the necklace. “You can’t show this to my mother.”

  “Do you understand the risk you take if I don’t tell her?”

  “I always know the risks I take when dealing with my mother.”

  “And yet you’d keep this from her? Perhaps the only clue we have?”

  “A clue perhaps. But my mother will take one look at this and leap, headlong, to a conclusion. That’s what she does, and by the gods she does it well.”

  “But protecting Esyld now—”

  “I didn’t say I would protect her. I simply want real proof. This necklace could have been smuggled out of the Sovereigns. It wouldn’t be the first or the last. Esyld could have found it, bought it. It could have been given to her. All these things are possibilities but once my mother sees this, the chance to explore all that will be gone. So I’m saying again, you can’t show this to my mother.”

  To Ragnar’s surprise, he didn’t doubt her words, or her conviction. He did, however, wonder at the why of it. Did she love her aunt so much? Or hate her mother even more?

  “And what if Esyld has betrayed you?”

  “Betraying me is one thing, my lord. Betraying my mother, another.” Keita stepped closer. “But if I find out Esyld has betrayed the throne…then she will have a problem that even I will be unable to get her out of.”

  “Isn’t the throne your mother?”

  “No. My mother is the queen. But the throne belongs to her subjects. To betray the throne is to betray us all.”

  “And if Esyld has done that…?”

  “Then she forfeits her life.”

  Ragnar frowned. “It would be that easy for you?”

  “Of course not. But the throne must be protected.” She studied the necklace held in the middle of her claw. “It is beautiful work.”

  “It is. Have you ever been to the Sovereigns?”

  Keita laughed. “Why would I do something so completely insane as that?”

  “You were in the Northlands during my father’s time. I’d say that was pretty insane. Perhaps I don’t see the difference.”

  “You don’t. To get caught in the Northlands may mean a forced mating, which may not be pleasant, Lord Ragnar, but at least one is still alive. To get caught in the Sovereigns, however, means a crucifixion. And a crucifixion means I’ll be dead. Not much one can do when dead, now is there? Besides”—she crinkled her nose again—“I’ve heard crucifixions are not quick deaths, especially for dragons.”

  “They’re not.” Ragnar again faced the vast sea before him. “There’s lots of screaming and bleeding and a cheering crowd. It’s extremely unpleasant.”

  She leaned around and peered at him. “You’ve seen one.”

  “I’ve seen lots of things.”

  “I mean you’ve seen one in the Sovereigns.”

  “I have.”

  “Why would you risk going there? I heard the Irons loathe the Lightnings.”

  “They do, but it’s hard to fight an enemy you’ve never seen.”

  “I’d heard they loathe you, but I hadn’t heard they’d become your enemies.”

  “I don’t know they are, but I’ve been hearing for years that the Sovereigns are readying for war.”

  The princess snorted and looked out over the sea, shaking her head. “My Lord Ragnar, the Sovereigns are always readying for war. So I wouldn’t feel too special.” She looked over at him and, with a small smile, said, “From what I understand, they’ll kill just about anybody.”

  “Gods, Ren. The Sovereigns? If she’s had any dealings with them, I won’t be able to help her. No one will.”

  Ren of the Chosen Dynasty watched his friend and traveling companion stare off across the small lake they’d been relaxing in while they waited for Éibhear to finish cooking the meat he’d brought back.

  “Before you begin panicking—”

  “I do not panic.”

  “—let’s see what we can find out first. We’ll be passing Fenella in the next two days anyway. We’ll stop there for a bit. I know someone who can appraise the necklace for us, and I’d trust him quicker than that slack-jawed barbarian.”

  Keita chuckled a little. “And I can visit Gorlas. If anyone knows anything—”

  “It’ll be Gorlas,” Ren agreed, knowing their old friend and mentor’s reach wasn’t confined to the Southlands. That elf had connections everywhere and knowledge about everyone. He prided himself on that. “But I want you to stop worrying about your aunt for now. There’s nothing we can do at the moment.”

  “I guess.”

  Not willing to let Keita obsess over what she couldn’t control, a little-known curse of hers, Ren removed the wine cup from her hand and placed it on the hard-packed dirt beside them. He motioned to his hair and turned away from her.

  “My hair needs a good scrubbing, not your whining.”

  “I’m not a servant, Eastlander.”

  “But no one does it quite as well as you, my dear, old, sweet friend.” He looked over his shoulder at her and fluttered his eyes.

  “You’re pathetic,” she reminded him even while she rested on her knees and proceeded to scrub his hair clean of all the dirt and grime.

  “’Tis true, but I’ve learned to accept my weakness. You should as well.”

  He sighed luxuriously and let his head fall back a little more. “I guess I should warn you that when we get back to Dark Plains, we may have to deal with your cousin.”

  “You’ll have to be more specific than that, I’m afraid. If there’s a feast at Garbhán Isle, there will be many cousins I’ll have to deal with.”

  Ren laughed. “Good point, but I was specifically speaking of, um, Elestren.”

  “Oh.”

  Ren was sure that Keita’s last few days at the Dragonwarrior training mountain, Anubail, were still firmly etched in her often fleeting memory. What a bad suggestion that had been on his part. A few months of unarmed combat training were all she really needed, and she only needed that to help her get over how helpless she’d felt while in the hands of the Northlanders. What he hadn’t counted on was that green-scaled cousin of hers. For not only was Keita no better in a fistfight now than she had been then, but last either of them had heard, even Keita’s father—Bercelak the Great himself—could not manage to get the ban lifted that prevented Keita from ever return
ing to Anubail Mountain. “I still say that was not my fault,” Keita went on. She’d been arguing this same point since the day he’d come for her at her father’s urgent request. Still bleeding from a head wound and nursing a broken forearm, Keita kept saying what she was saying now. “What happened to her was an accident…self-defense even, and she has no one to blame but herself. Besides, how many times should I apologize? The fact that I, a descendant of the royal bloodline, apologized at all, should be enough. But ignoring that I not only apologized multiple times but also sent that whiny viper some very decorative and fashionable eye patches to cover that gaping wound where her eye was! In my mind that should be more than enough. Don’t you agree?”

  Ren clenched his jaw, but the snort slipped past his best defenses and he began laughing. Keita’s arms dropped over his shoulders, her cheek pressed against his, and she joined him. Both laughing until they cried—and until they knew they were no longer alone.

  The Northland dragonlord stood a few feet away, in his dragon form, scowling at them. Ren knew the Lightning was confused. He didn’t understand their relationship, and Ren found that delightful. He had the feeling this dragon was not remotely used to feeling confused.

  “Do you want something, warlord?” Keita asked, wiping tears from her eyes.

  “There’s food,” he said. Then, pointing at them, he asked, “Are you two…what I mean is…are you…” He stopped and briefly shut his eyes. “Forget it,” he said. And they watched him head back to camp.

  Holding Keita’s arms, Ren looked at her. “My, my, you do have his cock in a knot, don’t you?”

  Keita frowned. “You think?”

  “Can’t you tell?”

  “He glares at me mostly. And talks to me as if I’m the stupidest female he’s ever met. I don’t think he likes me.”

  “I can’t argue that point with you, my friend. But that doesn’t mean he doesn’t lust after you.” And it immediately struck him how he could distract his friend for a bit until they found out more information on her aunt. “Although…I doubt you could get him.”

  “Oh, I could get him.”

  “Really?”

  “You’re all alike, Ren. Leading with your cocks, the head on your shoulders following stupidly behind.”

  “How much, Princess Brag-a-Lot? Since you’re so sure.”

  “Come now. That’s the easiest bet ever when a male’s involved.”

  “That dragon is no ordinary male. His high opinion of himself doesn’t allow for any fun or unnecessary fucking. He has important things to do. With important dragons, which you’re not. In his estimation, of course. Not mine.”

  Laughing, Keita said, “Well, let’s see….” She tapped her chin and gazed up at the sky. “How about that gold chair you have?”

  “You mean my ancient throne? It took me months to dig that up from the bowels of my cave, and it weighs at least a thousand pounds.”

  “I’m not paying for shipping.”

  “And what do I get if you lose?”

  “Which will not happen, but…” She pursed her lips in thought. “How about that Magick-infused sword thing you wanted?”

  “The Sword of Mallolwch?” She shrugged. “You lying cow! You told me you lost it.”

  “No. I said, ‘It’s around here somewhere…I think. Maybe.’”

  “You are the most deceitful—” Ren’s headed lifted, his nostrils flaring. “Smell that?” he asked.

  Keita lifted her nose and sniffed before inhaling deeply. “Éibhear’s cooked meat,” she sighed.

  “Éibhear’s cooked meat,” he repeated.

  Together they scrambled out of the water, shoving each other, first in human form, then in dragon, trying to be the first to get to the delicious feast they were sure Éibhear had created.

  Chapter Seven

  Swords were strapped to backs or around waists. Battle axes and bows were tied to saddles. Beasts that resembled horses, but with curled horns and red eyes, pawed the ice-covered ground, anxious to be on their way. Pets that traveled by their sides were summoned with a whistle or a howl. Them that were once men were taken from cages and leashed collars placed around their necks. They’d lead the way like eager dogs, running on all fours, their wills long ago broken when they’d challenged those they never thought they’d have to fear.

  A never-ending ice storm railed, but it didn’t matter to the likes of them. For they were on a mission given to them by one of their mighty gods. They worshipped a few but were respected by all. Because when they was given a task, nothing, absolutely nothing, stopped them from seeing it through.

  Their beasts mounted, their loyal pets at their sides, them that were men running nearly on all fours, the gates to their Ice Land fortress opened and they, like demons from the underworld, were unleashed onto an unsuspecting land. And they would follow the edicts of their gods even if it meant death to any and all who got in their way.

  With the sound of mighty hooves pounding against rock-hard ice still ringing in her ears, Keita awoke to find Ragnar the Cunning staring down at her.

  She squeaked in surprise and called out, “Evil rises from the pit to destroy me!” He frowned, but it seemed more out of confusion than rage, and Keita turned and buried her head against the scale-covered chest behind her. Ren stroked her back with fur-covered claws, and said, “Now, now, little one. It’s nothing to fear. Just a scary North Dragon with plans to destroy all that you love.”

  She shuddered and whispered loud enough for all to hear, “He frightens me. Make him go away.”

  “Shoo!” Ren said, forcing Keita to bury her snout deeper into his chest to prevent the burst of laughter bubbling up her throat. “Shoo!”

  “We leave in five minutes.”

  “We’ll be ready,” Ren promised.

  When the Lightning had stomped off, barking orders at his kin, Ren snorted a laugh, and Keita giggled into his chest.

  “Would you two cut it out?” Éibhear chastised, busy cleaning up the campsite. “You’re being intolerable.”

  Keita rolled onto her back and frowned at her talons when she realized one had a crack at the tip. “Who? Us?”

  “Yes. You. This could only be worse if Gwenvael were here.”

  Both Keita and Ren sighed. “Ahhh, Gwenvael,” she said.

  “Good times,” Ren added.

  “Aye. That they were. The three of us together, causing mayhem wherever we went.” Keita sat up, one forearm draped over her knee. “He’s not really mated, is he?”

  “He is. And she’s amazing,” Éibhear said.

  Keita glanced at Ren, gave him a little wink. Éibhear was at the stage where everyone was amazing or interesting or beautiful. Of course, Keita had grown out of that stage less than a year after hatching and, if she had been told correctly, her eldest brothers, Fearghus and Briec, never went through that stage at all. So perhaps Éibhear was making up for all of them. Except, of course, Morfyd. Perfect, untainted, loving Morfyd.

  “She’s ever so smart. Extremely smart.”

  “Reads a lot, does she?” Ren asked, prompting Keita to elbow him in the ribs.

  “She does. But it’s not just that. She’s insanely logical. Not like you at all, Keita.”

  Ren, who’d been sitting up, fell back laughing while Keita threw her claws up.

  “I’ll have you know I’m extremely logical.”

  Scattering the bones left over from their dinner the previous eve so that the local predators could use what they hadn’t, Éibhear shook his head and stated, “I can assure you that Dagmar Reinholdt would never have ended up on the wrong side of an execution.”

  “Are you still harping on that?” Keita demanded.

  “You could have gotten out of there at any time, but you always have to play your little games.”

  “You’re bloody amazing. If I’d allowed myself to be executed, you’d have been angry. But if I’d burned down the town, you’d have been angrier.” Keita got up, making sure to slap Ren’s face several time
s with her tail since he was still laughing. “I can never win with you!”

  Éibhear stared at her over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place if you hadn’t killed the man.”

  “What part of ‘It wasn’t me’ are you not grasping?”

  Her baby brother tipped his head to the side, and Keita bared her fangs before yelling, “It wasn’t me!”

  Éibhear pointed a talon. “But did you plan to kill him?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “I’m sorry,” Ragnar cut in. “But exactly what kind of answer is that?”

  Keita glared over at him. Gods he was big. Completely blocking out the two suns with that big body and even bigger head! And all that purple. What an annoying, strange color! “And at what point did you feel you were invited into this conversation, cretin?”

  “Keita!” Éibhear snapped and immediately stood by the Lightning. “That was rude. Apologize!”

  Keita was about to tell Éibhear what he could do with his bloody apologies when Ren whispered in her ear, “Have you already forgotten our wager, my friend?”

  Dammit. She had forgotten. But that, like most things, was not her fault. It was early, and she hadn’t eaten yet. “Besides, we do have to put up with all of them for a few more days. It couldn’t hurt to be nice,” Ren added softly.

  Knowing her friend was right, Keita loosely waved her claws in the air. “Gods! I am sorry, Lord Ragnar. As you can see, I’m not a morning dragon, and I get a bit snappy before first meal. My sincerest apologies.”

  “We’re all that way,” Meinhard muttered while he packed up his travel bag.

  “No worries,” Vigholf tossed in.

  “I can and always have been able to speak for myself,” Ragnar said, his gaze still on Keita.

  “Well, you do forgive me, don’t you, my lord?” She walked up to him, her tail swinging out behind her until she was close enough that the tip could move up his chest. “It would be awful if you were still angry with me.”