G A Aiken Dragon Bundle

by G. A. Aiken

  “No, no. I’m fine.”

  And that’s when Morfyd heard it. A sigh. A soft, annoyed sigh. Her gaze moved to where her sister sat between Lord Ragnar and Éibhear. And, as timing would have it, caught her sister at the midway point of an eye roll.

  “Something wrong, sister?” Morfyd asked sweetly, already tired of Keita’s presence in her home.

  “No, no. I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure? It seemed there might be some issue? Something you’d like to discuss?”

  “Sisters,” Fearghus said low, the warning in his voice clear.

  “It’s all right, Fearghus. I’m just trying to find out if there’s something I can do to make my precious baby sister’s stay here at Garbhán Isle all the better. I do hate to see her unhappy.”

  “Unhappy? Me? Oh, no, sister! I’m deliriously happy.” Keita ran her hands through her dark red locks before adding, “Although you might want to get off that sacrificial pyre…we need the wood.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “‘Oh, no, Talaith!’” Keita mocked her in an annoyingly high pitch that sounded nothing like Morfyd’s voice. “‘I don’t want to eat. Just let me starve in my virginal white robes. You all go on without me. Honestly, I’ll be fine—if I don’t die first.’”

  “That is not what I said, nor what I meant.”

  “Oh, really? Because that’s what it sounded like to me, my Good Lady Dragoness of Suffering.”

  “Come now, sister,” Morfyd lashed back. “Don’t be so jealous.”

  “Jealous? Of you?”

  “Of the fact that there are others who care about me, who like to take care of me. But I don’t want you to worry. I know for a fact there are many who care about you. Even now I’m sure there’s a bed set up in the middle of the barracks with a line of soldiers wrapped twice around the building, waiting just for you.”

  Keita stood up fast, her chair slamming hard to the floor, while Éibhear caught hold of their no-longer-sleeping nephew before he could tumble to the ground.

  “Keita!” Fearghus snapped.

  “What is it, sister, that really bothers you?” Keita asked, ignoring Fearghus. “The fact that I could pleasure every one of those soldiers in a way you couldn’t even dream…or that your precious Brastias might be at the head of that line?”

  To be honest, Morfyd didn’t remember much after she let loose that roar.

  Ragnar was so busy wondering if there was, in fact, a line of soldiers waiting for Keita that it never occurred to him to grab her. Besides, why would he have to? She was a royal, after all. Trained in the fine art of etiquette, proper poise, and all that.

  Unless, that is, your sister just called you a whore in front of your entire family, which meant you had to return the favor by suggesting you’re whore enough to fuck your sister’s mate. Apparently the Southland dragon etiquette rules varied little from the Northland Dragon Code when it came to sibling fights.

  Still, Ragnar knew he’d never have been prepared for any Northland female of his acquaintance to suddenly jump up on the table and charge across it as Keita was doing, only to meet her roaring sister in the middle, the two of them colliding. Their bodies spun as they hit, both of them grabbing on to the other’s hair and pulling, screaming obscenities at each other like drunken Northland sailors on leave. No. Ragnar would never have been prepared for that—and he wasn’t prepared for it now.

  And what were their kin doing? Nothing. They mostly looked bored while the Blue just kept saying, “We have to do something!” But he wasn’t actually doing “something.” Even the human queen had gone back to her book. Only Dagmar seemed shocked, her hand over her open mouth, her eyes wide behind her spectacles.

  Realizing none of Keita’s kin were going to do anything to stop this, Ragnar stood and climbed up onto the table.

  “You don’t want to get into the middle of this,” Fearghus, the queen’s eldest and seemingly most useless offspring, warned. He’d quickly retrieved his wandering children and was holding them securely on his lap, but that was all he seemed in the mood to do.

  Yet Ragnar didn’t want to get in the middle of this, but the Fire Breathers had left him little choice.

  He had just gotten his arms around Keita’s waist when a human male rushed in from another exit. “Damn,” he muttered before he dropped his shield and ax and joined Ragnar on the table. He took firm hold of Princess Morfyd, and, together, they pulled the two royals apart. Too bad the females still had each other by the hair.

  “Let her go, Keita.”

  Keita’s response was to scream. She didn’t scream words, just screamed. It was a little disconcerting.

  “Morfyd! Please!” the human practically begged. But she wasn’t much better than her sister.

  Desperate, Ragnar pulled one arm away from Keita’s waist and touched her hand. He unleashed the lightest of lightning bolts, but it was enough. The bolt shot through her fingers and into her sister’s hair, directly into her scalp. They both screeched and released the other, allowing the two males to pull them apart.

  “Whore!” Princess Morfyd screamed.

  “Frigid cow!” Keita screeched. Then one slapped the other, and the other slapped the first and Ragnar had had enough! He stepped down from the table and carried Keita from the Great Hall and out into the cool night.

  Brastias took Morfyd into their room and closed the door. He placed her on the bed, returned to the door, and locked it, then went back to their bed and sat down beside her. She had her elbows resting on her knees and her face buried in her hands.

  “The door’s locked,” he said.

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  Then Morfyd burst into tears, and Brastias pulled her into his arms, letting her cry herself out.

  Ragnar placed Keita down, and she immediately began to head back toward the castle. “Ungrateful, spiteful—”

  He caught her arm and pulled her back. “Let it go.”

  “Let it go? I’ll let nothing go including my righteous disdain!”

  And Ragnar honestly couldn’t help it when he started to laugh.

  “I’m sorry!” he lied, grabbing firm hold of the stalking-away royal. “I am so sorry.”

  “You are not sorry! You agree with her, I’m sure. Let’s take the whore down a peg.”

  “Don’t tie me into this fight with your sister. This is between the two of you. I’m merely an innocent bystander.” Ragnar sat down on a bench and pulled Keita until she flopped down beside him.

  “Miserable old cow,” she muttered.

  “Now, now. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

  Her small fist jammed into his arm.

  “She always does this, you know,” Keita said. “She starts a fight with me.”

  “She started the fight?”

  Keita glared at him. “Are you saying that I started the fight?”

  “I’m saying that to my eyes both of you are equally guilty.”

  “I should have known you’d side with her.”

  “I side with no one.”

  “Liar!” She stood and began to untie the bodice of her dress.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Getting away from all of you. I knew I should never have returned.”

  “Keita, don’t go.” If nothing else, don’t leave him here alone.

  “I’ll not stay where I’m not wanted.”

  “And who said that? Your brothers and their mates seemed quite happy you’ve come back.”

  “Too bad!” She practically tore the dress off her body before flinging it at Ragnar. He had yet to understand exactly what he’d done to earn her rage as well.

  “Where are you going?”

  She stormed naked to the middle of the courtyard and shifted to her natural form. “Away.”

  “But what about—” She flew off, and Ragnar sighed out, “The plan?”

  He gazed down at the dress in his hand. It had been quite pretty on her.

  “That colo
r will bring out your eyes,” the foreign dragon said from behind him, making Ragnar jump a little.

  “Where the battle-fuck did you come from?”

  “Everywhere. Nowhere.” Ren moved his hand through the air. “I am one with all that is around us. The land, the sea, the—”

  “You smell like pussy.”

  Ren’s hand dropped, and he sat in the spot on the bench Keita had left. “I smell like several pussies actually, but thanks for noticing.” He grinned, motioned to the dress. “Keita flounce off?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Must have been her sister, yes?”

  Ragnar answered by sighing again.

  “Don’t let it bother you. That’s what they do.”

  “I’m not used to it. Northland females simply don’t…act that way.”

  “He’s right.” Dagmar sat down on the other side of Ragnar. “We don’t act that way. Instead, we’re quietly catty, vindictive, and vicious. But I will say this…if I thought I could pay both sisters to join forces and go to my father’s fortress to start a fight like the one I just witnessed with my sisters-in-law, I would.” Dagmar clenched her hands together. “I’d give up everything to make that happen.”

  Ren laughed while Ragnar scratched his head and said, “This has been such a long day.”

  Keita debated heading to Fearghus’s cave in the middle of Dark Glen. There she had the option of seething by herself or teasing some of the guards who protected the cave at all times since the birth of the twins. Although when she thought about it, she wasn’t really in the mood to tease, flirt, or fuck anyone. She was, however, in the mood to punch her sister in the face. That she’d like to do.

  The bitch! The judgmental, callous bitch!

  Deciding that going to her brother’s cave was as good a plan as any, Keita tilted her wings and began to loop around toward Dark Glen. But when she caught sight of a pit fire on one of the hills, she adjusted her flight pattern and headed over. It was late, and she wanted to make sure everything was safe so close to her nieces and nephew. Yet when she took a good look, she immediately dived down, landing hard on her talons, the ground shaking beneath her claws. And as soon as she shook her hair off her face, a chorus of female voices cheered, “Keita!”

  She moved closer, shifting to human so she could take the bottle of wine held out by one of her cousins and a blanket from one of her aunts.

  “Heard you were back, little miss,” said her Aunt Bradana, one of Bercelak’s much older sisters. “You couldn’t come and visit until now?” Bradana’s voice was like wagon wheels over stone due, in part, to where her throat had been cut during a brutal battle nearly four centuries ago.

  “Don’t question me, aunt,” Keita said, making sure to sound as imperious as possible. “I’ve had many royal things to do the last day involving cranky Lightnings and pouting brothers and gods-damn, evil bitch sisters!”

  Grinning, all the females said, “Morfyd.”

  After a healthy gulp of wine, Keita said, “Is it my fault she’s frigid? Is it my fault she could only find a human male who would tolerate all that piousness? Is it my fault she’s a bitter, bitter hag?”

  “Yes, it is,” said one cousin.

  “Shut up!” Keita sat down hard on the ground, her female kin laughing around her while she gulped several more mouthfuls of wine before handing the bottle off to someone else. “And can I just say I’m sick of everyone? Even you lot, and I haven’t seen most of you in ages. I should have stayed away.”

  “You can’t forget your family, girl.” One of Bradana’s favorite sayings and a direct quote from Keita’s grandfather Ailean. “Because no matter where you go or what you do, they’ll always be your kin.”

  “Kind of like a disease you can’t get rid of,” another cousin tossed in.

  “Oy.” Bradana’s oldest daughter, Rhona, pointed at Keita. “Last I heard, you were training at Anubail Mountain with uh, Uncle Cadan’s oldest girl.”

  “Elestren,” another aunt offered.

  Keita rubbed her nose. “Right. That didn’t work out so well for me.”

  “Too much work for you, princess?” Rhona teased, already a little bit drunk. Not surprising when Keita did a quick count of the number of empty wine bottles tossed off to the side. “We all know how you royals don’t like to do much.”

  “They wanted me up at the break of dawn…to exercise. Why was that necessary? What was wrong with midafternoon? Or early evening? And all right, perhaps swords, battle axes, warhammers, and long axes were not quite right for my particular…skill level. I didn’t go there to learn how to fight with weapons anyway. I leave that amazing ability to you lovely She-dragons since you all seem to have a natural affinity for such things.”

  Another cousin shook her head. “No wonder your eyes are brown, you’re so full of—”

  “But apparently my skills were so lacking that I was summarily dismissed by one and all, which seems rather unfair. I worked so hard for days…nearly a whole week even! And they were ready to toss me out because they felt I wasn’t learning fast enough.”

  “All very true.” Bradana nodded in agreement and announced between sips, “But they really kicked you out because you took Elestren’s eye.”

  Except for the crackling pit fire, all fell silent. Even the night animals. And all her cousins and aunts gawked at her while Bradana continued to drink from her own bottle of wine and chuckle.

  “I did not take her eye,” Keita gritted out. “Not on purpose. It was self-defense.” Keita reached over several of her female kin to snatch the bottle back from another of the aunts. “And even though I told them all it was self-defense, they still banned me from Anubail for my lifetime because—and this is according to those Royal Guard Council bastards—I don’t know or understand the rules of engagement, whatever the ass fuck that means.”

  “Accident or not,” Bradana warned, “watch yourself with that Elestren, luv. She’s mean and not one for forgiving.”

  “I can handle her,” Keita said again.

  “In other words you’re completely avoiding her, eh?” Rhona asked.

  “Perhaps a little,” Keita muttered, taking another sip. Finally feeling the light buzzing in her head that came with most drinks manufactured by her father’s side of the family, she nearly yelled, “And I’ll have you know I sent that cranky twat an array of beautiful eye patches in a variety of colors so she could wear them for any occasion!”

  When she found all the females still staring at her, Keita asked, “What?”

  Rhona, clearly fighting a smile, glanced at all the cousins and aunts, before leaning forward and asking, “You sent her eye patches?”

  “I was being nice!”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After checking on his cousin—sleeping—and his brother—brooding—Ragnar spent a little time in his own room reading a few letters he’d taken with him from the Northlands but hadn’t had the time to review. Mostly from the commanders of different troops and units. And although the letters and missives were short, each filled him with growing unease until he was sure that Queen Rhiannon had been right. Whatever was going on in the Southlands greatly involved the Northlanders.

  He also knew he wouldn’t be falling asleep anytime soon. He decided he needed a walk to help clear his head, but first he returned to his brother—still brooding—and gave him the letters.

  “Read them.”

  “All right.”

  “Then, tomorrow, start talking to people.”

  “About what?”

  “Anything. Any rumors about enemies, wars. I don’t care.” His brother had a way with locals and servants that allowed him to find out all sorts of things. And Ragnar needed a sense of things among the Southland humans. As much as dragons often tried to pretend humans were no more than an additional food source, Ragnar knew that what happened in their world often directly affected what happened among the dragons. “Fill me in later.”

  With that taken care of, Ragnar head
ed out of his room, down the two flights of stairs, and through the Great Hall. There were lakes and streams all over this territory, and he’d find a nice, calm one that would help him think and figure out what he should do next.

  But before he could even get down the steps, something tumbled past him. Whatever it was landed hard in the middle of the stairs, and Ragnar stepped in closer to get a good look.

  “Keita!” He crouched beside her. She was still human and only wore a blanket. She could easily have been killed, coming from that height.

  Carefully Ragnar turned her over. Her nose was bleeding, and she wore what appeared to be a homemade eye patch. Two, actually. One over each eye. But she was breathing, her heart still beating.

  “Keita? Can you hear me?”

  Ragnar pulled the blanket off, fighting desperately to ignore the beauty of the human body beneath, instead focusing on any damage she might have. He ran his hands over her ribs to her hips. He didn’t find anything broken, but she did have a nasty bump on her forehead, and again…the eye patches.

  He was reaching for them, about to remove them, when Keita coughed. Ragnar pulled back. “Gods of thunder, how much have you been drinking?”

  Keita held up four fingers and slurred, “Two ales.”

  “You all right, cousin?” a dragoness yelled-slurred from above.

  Keita’s four fingers turned into a thumbs-up aimed at the sky.

  “Good. And tonight at dinner you should introduce us to your handsome friend.”

  “Get your own Lightning!” Keita yelled back. “There are two more, and they’re not half bad.”

  “Selfish cow!”

  “Callous vipers!”

  The laughter faded with the She-dragons heading off, and Ragnar was left with a drunk, naked royal.

  Ragnar leaned over her. “Keita—”

  His next words were cut off when Keita’s hands slammed into his face. “I’m blind!” she cried, her hands grasping. “I cannot see! Why have the gods cursed me so?”