It was as if he planned to shift right there, in the middle of the human castle, into his full dragon form just so he could tear Gaius limb from limb. But before he did any of that, Prince Gwenvael’s head was snatched back, his yelp startling his silver-haired brother beside him.
“What was that for?” Gwenvael whined seconds before Dagmar Reinholdt marched into the room.
“King Gaius,” she greeted, “I wanted to make sure you had everything you need.”
“I’m more than . . . satisfied, my lady.”
Gwenvael and Briec snorted at that, but before Fearghus could direct his anger at them, The Beast did. She locked eyes with both—such cold eyes behind boring round pieces of glass—and pointed.
“Go,” she ordered.
“But—”
“Now.”
Gwenvael immediately skulked off, but Briec attempted to resist.
“I don’t take orders from—” he began and Dagmar’s cold eyes narrowed behind those pieces of glass and her head tilted to the side. It was a small gesture, but apparently enough for the arrogant bastard.
Throwing his hands up, he said, “No need to get hysterical.” Then he, too, was gone.
“Now,” she said, turning to Gaius and Annwyl, “what are we discussing?” With a casual air and extremely gentle hands, she grabbed Gaius’s forefinger and removed his arm from Annwyl’s shoulders. Then she stepped between them and stared at the map as well.
With a snarl, Fearghus turned on his heel and left.
While Annwyl leaned in to study the map, amazingly oblivious to everything going on around her, Dagmar gently whispered, “Stop that.”
“Stop what?” Gaius asked.
She briefly glared at him. “You know what. And I can only protect you from that one for so long. He’s not like his brothers. He’s much smarter and meaner than they are.” She jerked her head toward Annwyl—who was still oblivious. “That’s why he likes her so much. They’re mean together.”
“But the males of that clan make it so easy.”
Dagmar sighed. “Don’t you think I already know that?”
Chapter Eleven
Kachka sat on the front steps that led into the Great Hall and watched her sister speak with her husband, Celyn.
Her walking out on him with his cock still hard and unsatisfied seemed to have been forgotten and now they talked softly to each other, Elina grinning at some joke he’d made.
Something large dropped down next to Kachka on the stairs and she glanced over to see the Rebel King casually sitting beside her.
“It’s too easy, you know,” he said.
“What is?”
“Toying with the Southlander dragons. At least the males. It’s simply too easy.”
“I have noticed that as well. Like cat toying with mouse.”
“Exactly.”
Kachka motioned to her sister across the courtyard. “She seems happy, yes?”
The king studied Elina for a moment, then nodded. “Very.”
“Good. I always wanted her to be happy. She never was, you know? When she lived with our tribe.”
“It was my understanding your mother didn’t make it easy for either of you.”
“Glebovicha Shestakova made it easy for no one. Though she tolerated me well enough.”
“Because you’re not afraid to kill.”
“Do not be fooled. Elina is not afraid to kill. But she is just more . . . defense fighter. When you come at her, she will do what she has to in order to survive. But me . . .” She smiled at the dragon. “I am offensive. I need little reason to do what I feel is necessary.”
“Yes. I’ve noticed that about you.”
“You, peasant,” a young voice said from the bottom of the stairs. “Remove yourself from my way.”
Kachka and the king smirked at each other before Kachka turned and stared down at Dagmar Reinholdt’s eldest daughter, Princess Arlais. She wished she could say Arlais treated her this way because she sensed her mother’s intense dislike of Kachka, but no. Arlais treated anyone she deemed beneath her this way—which was pretty much everyone.
The nine-year-old waved at Kachka. “Move!”
“You have plenty of space. Go around, demon child.”
“Isn’t it bad enough we have you barbarians here? My aunt allows it, but you don’t need to be sitting there in front of our home, making the rest of us look bad.”
“And one day,” Kachka replied, “the peasants here will rise up . . . and destroy you. And I will laugh.”
“Damn, Kachka,” Gaius laughed.
“What? Should I lie?”
“She’s a child!”
“She is spoiled brat who is lucky no one has put pillow over head while she sleeps.”
“Do you think you frighten me?” the girl demanded. “Have you met my mother?”
“I quote your mother.”
A large shadow fell over the girl and wide gold eyes stared up at a battered and bruised—but somehow still smiling—Zoya Kolesova.
“So they managed to keep you alive, Zoya Kolesova,” Kachka noted, but the disappointment in her voice had the dragon tapping her thigh.
“Be nice,” he muttered to her.
After rolling her eyes, Kachka lifted her hands, wiggled her fingers, and cheered, “Yay, you are better! We are all so happy you are not dead.”