“The messenger had a letter?” Rhona asked.
“ Aye.”
“That just happened to spel out Vateria’s entire evil plan in detail?”
Keita grinned and Rhona shook her head.
“She’s a piece of work that one,” Rhona murmured.
“She wanted the messenger intercepted,” Vigholf reasoned. “Thinking your brothers would find it, rush off to save their offspring, bringing the entire Cadwaladr Clan with them.”
Keita nodded, laughed. “Leaving you poor barbarian Northlanders to the mercy of the exquisite military might of the Irons. He’d destroy al of you first and fly right into the Southlands to face a broken Southland army. Not a bad plan real y. Because that’s exactly what my brothers would do . . . if I hadn’t gotten to the messenger first.”
“But wait . . .” Vigholf studied the princess. “If you knew al that from the letter—why did you torture the messenger?” The royal gave a very smal shrug. “I was a wee bit bored. . . .”
“I keep tel ing you not to ask her questions,” Rhona sighed out, “but you insist.” Annoyed Rhona was right, Vigholf snapped at her, “Have you nothing to say about any of this?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“She just told you that your cousins’ offspring are in danger, that she has some ridiculous scheme involving portals and this foreigner, and that she might be taking us into the middle of a pitch battle with barbarians, but she hadn’t warned us of that possibility before we left.”
“Yeah . . . and?”
“I’d think a little rage or something would be in order. Some ranting, arms flailing.” Vigholf needed some emotion from her. Something.
“And I do al that . . . what does it change?”
“Change?”
“Yeah. What does it change? Nothing. Wil I stil have to fol ow orders and escort my cousin and Ren to Garbhán Isle anyway?”
“Wel —”
“Of course I wil . Wil Keita ever stop being a spoiled, entitled brat who does whatever she wants and gets away with it because we’re al terrified of her mother, who’s a homicidal queen?”
“Uh—”
“Doubtful. So what’s the point?”
“Wel —”
“Exactly. There is no point. Now get those two fed and I’l get us some fresh water from the stream. We can decide whether it’s safe enough now to fly or if we should get horses instead when I return.”
She walked off and al Vigholf could do was watch her until Keita stood beside him.
“When she gets like that,” Keita confided, “it’s best just let her go. You can never win.”
“She didn’t even let me get a word in . . . and she answered her own bloody questions. Why ask them then?”
“That’s Rhona’s way. Don’t let it bother you.” Keita tugged the sleeve of his chain-mail shirt until he gazed down at her. “You don’t think I’m entitled, do you?”
“Of course not,” Vigholf lied.
“Because if I am, it’s only because I deserve it! I deserve everything I want. Don’t you agree?” Rather than lying even more, Vigholf handed Keita his pack. “Here. There’s beef in the bag. You two eat. I’l be right back.” Rhona fil ed up her flask with water and thought about next steps. Should they stay on foot or risk taking to the skies? After hearing the truth about this trip, she thought flying might be the wisest move. But she worried about Ren’s strength. Flying could be tiring, even for dragons and Ren didn’t even have wings! He just sort of... flew. And if human forces on the ground attacked them while they were in the air, would Ren be able to dodge, much less fight?
Analyzing, she stood and asked the Lightning who’d been standing silently behind her. “Horses or flying?”
“What?”
“Should we get horses or fly?”
“I’m not good with horses.”
“What do you mean you’re not good?”
“I mean, they get my scent and they bolt.” He shrugged. “I real y like horse meat.” He gazed off. “I’m so hungry.” Not having time for this, Rhona walked around him to head back to the others.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked.
“Plan?” Rhona faced him, shrugged. “Do what we’ve been doing, I guess. Get those two back to Garbhán Isle.”
“And?”
“And what?”
“We’re heading into a war zone, Sergeant. Possibly. According to your cousin, we’l be caught between some pissed-off barbarian tribes and the Kyvich Witches. That is not a good place for anyone to be.” He stepped closer. “And if you think the Kyvich are going to let that foreigner traipse off with those children after they’ve committed to one of their gods to protect them at Garbhán Isle—”
“Al right, al right.” Gods, he could ramble when provoked. “What do you suggest we do?”
“We need to find out what we’re looking at with these Western Tribes. Are they bringing one legion, two, a thousand? We should escort these two past the Dark Plains border and then go off on our own. Head toward the west and see how close this army is.”
“Okay,” Rhona agreed. “We’l do that.”
He scowled at her, but she didn’t know why. “Or you can give me your opinion.”
“My opinion?”
“Opinion. Suggestion. Ideas.”
“Ideas?”
His scowl worsened. “You do have ideas, don’t you?”
“I do, but you outrank me so—”
“First off,” he angrily cut in, “don’t pul that ox shit with me. We’re not here with an army that needs to be control ed. It’s just you, me, a weakened foreigner, and a poison-and-torture-happy princess. We can’t afford for you to only take orders. I don’t know this terrain and I think we both know you don’t want your orders to come from Keita. So, Sergeant, we need to do this together—as a team. So I ask you again—what’s your opinion?” Rhona knew Vigholf had a point, no matter how rudely that point was made. And although she was completely unused to giving her opinion—only Dragonwarriors had that luxury during battles and missions—she did as he’d asked.
“I think our job is to get Keita and Ren into Garbhán Isle safely. That alone wil be hard enough. The Western Tribes, the Tribesmen, are riders and nomads used to moving quickly al year round. They’re not marching on Dark Plains, Commander. They’re racing there, hoping to take advantage of Annwyl’s absence. It’s too risky to send Keita and Ren off on their own. And once we get them to Dark Plains, those two can also deal with the Kyvich.”
The Lightning studied her for a long moment. Then he nodded. “You’re right.” She was? And he was admitting she was? “I didn’t know about the Western Tribes. My Horde has never fought them. So you’re right. We can’t let those two off on their own. At least in Garbhán Isle they’l have some protection, and from what I remember of that territory, it wil be easier to defend.” He looked around. “We keep moving. I can carry the foreigner if need be.”
Although Ren wasn’t a large dragon, especial y compared to Rhona’s own kin, he would be no light burden for anyone. “And how long can you keep that up?”
Those clear grey eyes locked on her. “As long as I need to.”
“Oh.” She cleared her throat. “Al right then.”
“Let’s get moving. There stil may be Iron scouts out this far.”
And without another word said between them, they walked back to Keita and Ren.
Chapter 6
They ended up risking the skies when the first set of wild horses they came upon stampeded at the first scent of the Lightning. A moment that he could only shrug at and mutter, “Sorry.”
And although they made good time with only short breaks along the way, they were stil forced to get some real sleep that night.
Rhona, though, feeling more awake than tired, took first watch. In her human form, she went up high in a tree, using its leaves for cover. She briefly thought about letting the triplets know what was going on, what had changed, but decided against it. She trusted them, but if they worried for Fearghus and Briec’s offspring, they would most certainly alert the rest of the siblings and the rest of the siblings would tel Mum and Mum would make a straight line to Fearghus and Briec to complain about Keita using one of her soldiers—no, not her daughter, but one of her soldiers—for her
“nonsense,” which was what Bradana cal ed almost anything that Keita did. So it was best to say nothing.
After a few hours, Rhona felt a tap and looked down at Vigholf. And with a lightness belied by his great human size, he pul ed himself up until he sat across from her. The old tree groaned, but the limbs did not break under his weight as he settled in.
“Al clear?” he asked, his voice low.
“ Aye.”
“Good.” He handed over a cloth with meat and bread wrapped in it before turning his gaze to the land around them, grey eyes watchful. “Can you explain to me why the Tribesmen hate Annwyl so much?”
“Who says they do?”
“I doubt that just because a Quintilian monarch offers them payment they’l jump at the chance to take on Garbhán Isle.”
“Wel . . .” Rhona let out a little sigh, toying with the cloth holding her food. “Annwyl does not like slavery or slave traders, which is the Tribesmen’s top means of income. She struck first a few years back, hoping to convince them, in her own way, to give up slavery in exchange for her not wiping them from the planet. They never took her up on her offer, and then this thing with the Irons and Sovereigns happened and she stopped worrying about the Tribesmen. Especial y when she found out that most of the Tribesmen’s patrons were Quintilians.”
“And in Annwyl’s mind, kil the ones demanding the product and the suppliers wil go out of business?”
“Pretty much. For Annwyl it’s not about power but about everything being what she thinks is . . . right. She thinks slavery is wrong, so she tries to stop it. She thinks the Sovereigns ruling everything is wrong, so she tries to stop them.”
“You’ve fought by her side before?”
“More than once. As human. When the Cadwaladrs have no dragons to fight, we’l join human armies.”
“Your royal cousins do the same?”
Rhona had to laugh at that. “My cousins? Direct bloodline from the House of Gwalchmai fab Gwyar? Hardly. Even my Uncle Bercelak, their father, a true Cadwaladr, never had much use for humans except as a quick-moving snack. Then Annwyl came along . . .” Rhona shook her head.
“Nothing’s been the same since Fearghus found that female dying outside his cave about twelve or so years ago. Then there was Talaith and Dagmar. . . . Then the offspring were born and al bets were off.”
Vigholf nodded slowly. “I see, but your cousin, Keita . . .”