Rhiannon made her way to the top of the battlements, watching as her warriors and the human witches fought the Tribesmen. For human barbarians, the Tribesmen were dangerous foes, used to fighting not just Annwyl’s armies but Rhiannon’s dragon army as wel .
“You shouldn’t be up here.”
Rhiannon glanced at Dagmar. “Neither should you, Battle Lord. You should be with the others.”
“These battlements are mine until Annwyl returns. I’l not hide like I’m one of the children.”
“Such a Northlander,” Rhiannon murmured.
“Maybe we should have listened to Keita and sent the children to the Eastlands with Ren,” Dagmar told her, watching Ren join the fight in his wingless golden dragon form. She’d never noticed he had paws before—and antlers.
“If we ship them away every time there’s a problem, they’l be raised by strangers al their lives.” The queen watched the Kyvich cut down man after man, while their dogs and horses ate the remains. “They stay here.”
“What about Annwyl? Who wil we send out to find her?”
“That’s a bigger issue. Especial y now. The Tribesmen won’t back off simply because the Kyvich’s pets have eaten a few of their friends.”
“So what do you suggest?”
Rhiannon leaned against the railing, watching the battle raging beneath.
“Normal y I’d send out one of my Dragonwarriors to find her.”
“Can we afford to lose one of them now?”
“Can we afford to lose Annwyl?”
“We both know that if Annwyl left her army it was for a damn good reason.”
Rhiannon nodded. “I know that. She headed deeper into the west, Battle Lord. And there’s only one thing in that direction.”
“The Provinces.” The heart and home of the Irons. And getting into the Provinces was one thing. Getting out . . .
“This could very likely be a one-way trip for whoever we send.” Rhiannon shook her head. “But it can’t be avoided. We need to send someone to find Annwyl and bring her, Izzy, and Branwen back to their troops. So any suggestions, Battle Lord?” Dagmar stepped closer to the rail. “One of your Dragonwarriors, yes?”
“They are my strongest and mightiest.”
“But they can also be unpredictable.”
Rhiannon smiled. The Northland woman her son had chosen as his mate was a quick learner.
“Exactly. They do what they think is right. If that means leaving Annwyl to die while they rescue lost urchins . . .”
“So then what?”
Rhiannon studied the battlefield. Of al who fought, there was one who stuck out to her eyes. “Which one is that?” Dagmar adjusted her spectacles and squinted. “The Brown? Your niece. Rhona.”
That name sounded familiar. “Rhona? Rhona?” Oh, yes! “Bradana’s eldest. She babysat for me once when Keita was stil a hatchling.”
“How did that go?”
“She recovered from the poisoning quite wel and her hair grew back, but her mother wouldn’t let her babysit for us again, after that.” Rhiannon pointed at her niece. “What is she now? A captain? Or a general?”
“Sergeant.”
“Just a soldier then?”
“Just a soldier.”
They watched the soldier spear a Tribesmen and his horse with one thrust, and crush another with her shield.
Rhiannon and Dagmar looked at each other—and smiled.
Chapter 12
Final y, the Tribesmen pul ed back, disappearing into the forests that surrounded Dark Plains. But Rhona had fought them long enough to know they weren’t gone, merely regrouping, using the trees and their forest-loving gods to shield them.
Rhona landed by one of her wounded cousins and pul ed her forearm over her shoulder. Rhona walked-carried her kin toward the castle gates.
Halfway there her load abruptly lightened, and she realized Vigholf had taken her kin’s other arm, al owing the She-dragon to get off her wounded leg.
Once inside the gates, Rhona handed over her burden to the healers and searched out her father. She found him rounding up weapons. He would work through the night with his apprentices to repair the damaged ones and sharpen the rest so that when the Tribesmen attacked again, they’d be ready and armed.
“Rhona,” he said when he saw her, wrapping her in a hug. “Good work, child.”
“Sergeant Rhona!” Addolgar cal ed out. “You’ve been summoned by the queen. Dress and meet her in the war room.” Sulien caught Rhona’s forearm and held her. “What does the queen want with my daughter?” he demanded of Addolgar.
But Rhona pushed his claw off. “Daddy, when the queen cal s, I go.”
Addolgar motioned toward the castle with a jerk of his head, patting Rhona’s shoulder as she walked by.
“Don’t do anything foolish, child,” her father cal ed after her.
Vigholf tended to a few dragons who couldn’t reach the swords or arrows embedded in their backs.
Once done with that, he was about to go in search of Rhona when her father stepped in front of him.
“You,” he said and, for a moment, Vigholf was sure Sulien had heard about Vigholf and Rhona cuddling under a tree al night. He was a ridiculously large dragon with forearms the size of large bul s. It would not be a fun fight. “Go with her.” Vigholf blinked. “Go with who?”
“Rhona. She’s been cal ed to talk to the queen—don’t let her face that alone.” Vigholf quickly shifted to human and yanked the clothes off some poor, large-boned soldier who’d been walking by, and demanded, “Where is she?”