“Soon, I’m sure. Then she’l be al yours.”
Vateria went up on her toes, kissed him. “You do so endlessly please me, my lord mage.”
“Shame your father seems to think that even with my connections and pure Iron bloodlines I’m so beneath you then.”
“Don’t worry about Daddy. He adores me and he always gives me what I want. And now”—she led him to her bed—“ you can give me what I want.”
“Morning!”
Rhona growled and covered her head with her arms. “Go away.”
“We must get on the road, female. Now rise and bless me with your presence.”
Laughing, despite her annoyance, Rhona let the Lightning pul her to her feet. But Vigholf was an extremely strong buck of a dragon and he yanked Rhona up and right into his chest, their bodies slamming together, startling them both. The pair stared at each other until Vigholf’s gaze moved over her face, final y resting on her mouth. She remembered his push for a kiss the previous evening, and she knew he was thinking about that now. But was he truly attracted to her or was she simply available? And even worse . . . why the hel s did she suddenly care? She shouldn’t care! She should be punching that look off his face before he did something stupid, like actual y kiss her.
Gods! Her own weakness annoyed her.
Rhona pul ed her arms from Vigholf’s grasp but tried to keep things light. “It’s too early for you to be this extremely ridiculous.”
“It’s never too early,” he joked, stepping away from her. “Now, did you sleep wel ?” She stretched her shoulders, desperately trying to forget how wel their bodies fit together in that brief moment. “I did.”
“So did I. I think we’l need to sleep together tonight to ensure that restfulness stays the same. It’s in our best interest.” Shaking her head, Rhona walked around him. “I need food.”
Vigholf examined the hil s. After a moment, he unleashed a bolt of lightning and a ram with several burn holes in its side tumbled down the hil and landed at Rhona’s feet.
Grinning, Vigholf said, “Food.”
Keeping her laughter in, Rhona nodded. “Thank you.” She adored how proud he looked.
“Welcome.”
They ate and walked, the horses fol owing behind them.
“I heard from my brother this morning,” Vigholf said.
“Was he angry?”
That was not the question Vigholf had expected her to ask. “About?”
“That you haven’t returned. That you’re not on your way back to Euphrasia readying your troops to destroy the Irons. That you’ve foolishly fol owed me on a death march after an insane monarch.”
“Uhhhh . . . no. None of that seemed to bother him. In fact, he understood.”
“Understood what? That you have this rabid desire to protect every female you’ve come in contact with?”
“Actual y . . . yes. Yes, he does understand that.”
Rhona laughed and bit into another piece of meat.
“You should be more positive about al this,” he told her. “I’m sure it’l al work out fine.” She stopped and gazed up at him. “Why would you think that?”
“One of us has to be positive,” Vigholf explained while he kept walking. “Or we’re both dead.” Keita grateful y took the goblet of wine her friend offered her and moved over a bit so that he could sit down beside her, their backs against the wal of the staircase that led to the castle bedrooms.
“It’s disturbingly quiet, my friend,” Keita remarked after sipping her wine.
Ren nodded. “I know. The Tribesmen would have had these territories wel scouted before they came here. They wil hide someplace and ready for their next attack.”
“We should have taken the children, these idiot witches be damned,” she said again, earning her a glare from one of the nearby Kyvich. Keita’s response was to stick her tongue out at her like a three-year-old.
“I could have gotten past the Kyvich, I think,” he reasoned. “But not your mother. And you won’t like hearing this, but I think she had a point. Run now, and the children wil be running forever. Might as wel teach them now to make a stand.”
“But if something happens to them and I didn’t warn my brothers . . .”
“The children wil be fine. They couldn’t be better protected.”
“I guess.”
“What else bothers you, Keita?”
“I’ve tried to contact my brothers, just to—”
“Check on Ragnar, who you are deeply in love with but stil refuse to admit it?”
“Whatever. But they don’t respond.”
“I think we won’t be hearing from them until this is al over.”
Keita looked at her friend. “Why do you say that?”
“From the beginning, before the children were even born, the gods have been involved with this family, Keita. I don’t know why you al seem to fascinate them so, but there you have it. And I think cutting off lines of communication between us keeps this rol ing along.”
“You think one of the gods sent Annwyl into the west, don’t you?”
“Would it real y surprise you? Annwyl may have her moments, but wandering off into the west to martyr herself to anything . . . ? I haven’t known that woman long, but that’s not Annwyl.” He took the goblet from Keita and took a sip. “No, my friend. I’m afraid the gods are playing their games . . .
and we’re al caught in the middle.”
“I must say, Ren. I’ve become quite annoyed with these gods. I mean . . . other than to make me so enticingly beautiful, I have no idea what their real purpose is. Do you?”
Ren laughed, kissing Keita on the scalp and handing the goblet back to her. “No idea, Keita. None at al .” They found a place to get a few hours’ sleep near a stream for fresh water, a cave should they need the shelter, and someone’s livestock roaming around.
Ful from al the lamb he’d eaten, Vigholf leaned back against his pack.
Rhona held her hands out. “Let me see that.”
Vigholf held up his hammer. “This?”
“ Aye.”
He tossed it to her and she caught it in both hands. “Why would you choose something so heavy and cumbersome?” she asked.
“Heavy? My old one was heavy. This one that your father made? Light as a feather.”
“This is not light, Northlander.” She stood with the hammer, but stumbled a bit.
“Sure you just don’t need some help with that, weak female?”
“I’m fine, thank you very much. It’s just that I knew I shouldn’t have had any of that wine we got in town. But I needed something to silence the screaming in my head over what we’re being forced to do.”
Gods, she was adorable, swinging his warhammer around. Even if she didn’t like the weight, she stil handled it wel .
“Now a hammer . . .” he told her. “That’s a weapon. A weapon for adults anyway.”
“Leave off me spear. It had served me wel until you destroyed it.”
“It was an accident!”
“Of course it was.”
“I hear sarcasm,” he complained as she stood over him and dropped the hammer on his stomach. “Ow! Evil wench!” Rhona laughed and sat down next to him. “I’m not nearly as tired as I should be.”
“Good. Then perhaps you can explain Annwyl to me.” And Vigholf adored how wide Rhona’s eyes grew.
“Why not ask me to explain water? The air?” she demanded.
“I don’t understand.”
“You ask me to explain the unexplainable. Annwyl makes sense to no one. A bastard daughter of a monstrous tyrant, she should stil be living in the peasant vil age her father dragged her out of. I mean what monarch wants his bastard daughter around when he already has a proper son as heir? She’s also the sister of an even worse tyrant who sold her off to another tyrant so they could unite kingdoms. She should be married to that second tyrant with a few royal heirs to make everyone happy. But she never even reached the wedding and ended up destroying the brother who’d tortured so many.”
“So what does al that mean?”
“It means she’s amazing—and terrifying. Annwyl kil s without question, rules with an iron fist, and has little patience for anyone. She can be cruel, she can be loving, she can be heartless, and she can care too much. She is blindingly loyal, but demands the same loyalty from everyone and is devastated when she doesn’t receive it. I can’t explain Annwyl, Vigholf, so I never try.”
“I guess then we’l leave it at that.”
Appearing relieved, she turned her gaze up to the sky. “Are those clouds?”
Vigholf shrugged, studying every part of her, not caring about the sky or clouds. “No clue.” She looked at him. “That’s probably because you’re staring at me and not up there—you know . . . where the clouds actual y are.”
“I like staring at what I’m staring at.”
“Yeah, right.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing. We need to get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”
“Al right.”
Rhona got to her feet and went over to her bedrol . By the time she’d settled down, Vigholf was stretched out right beside her.
“What are you doing?”
“Giving you my warmth.”
“I didn’t ask for it.”
“And yet I’m giving it to you because that’s how wonderful I am.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Ssssh. You’l wake the horses.”
Rhona shook her head and settled down. “You just never give up, do you?”
No. He didn’t. But when Vigholf put his arm around her waist—she didn’t complain either.
Chapter 17
It was the lightning that woke Rhona up the fol owing morning. Not the Lightning, but actual lightning. The stuff Vigholf ’s kind was made of, the way she was born of fire. And because of that lightning, she wasn’t exactly surprised to find herself no longer entangled with the Northlander. She’d discovered after their two nights together that Vigholf was one of those dragons who liked to wrap himself around a female like a vine. She’d punched and kicked her way out of several situations like that in the past, but it hadn’t bothered her so much with Vigholf. Perhaps because he wasn’t also a twitcher.
Rhona dragged herself up and ran her fingers through her hair. Thunder rol ed from the skies and big bolts of lightning cut across the land.
Lightning that seemed to be getting dangerously close.
“Should I even be sitting next to you?” she asked.
“The lightning wil pass. Just give it a few minutes.”
She studied the dragon. “You look rather . . . concerned.”
“Not concerned. Tense.” He looked at her. “Have you ever been hit by lightning?”
“Only during battle.”
“Wel , we tend to attract lightning, seeing as we’re made of the stuff—and it can sting like hel depending on where it strikes.”