Shocked, Gaius insisted, “Yes, I do. I don’t use them, of course. I leave that to my sister.”
Brigida snorted. “You have no magicks, foolish boy, because your twin sister leeched them from you before hatching. She left you with the brawn and some brains, but that was about it. So go with the Rider or not, no one cares.”
“What about team?” Kachka asked.
“They can travel with you, but keep Chechneva and the Mountain Mover away from it.”
“Zoya Kolesova? She has magicks? There are no shamans in her tribe.”
“Do you think her size comes naturally?” Brigida asked with a laugh.
“And where is this thing?”
“That’s the fun part,” Talwyn said with a smile. “It’s with the Dwarves of the Western Mountains.”
Gaius’s head dropped back. “Oh, fuck.”
“What? I get along fine with dwarves.”
“With Outerplains Dwarves, I’m sure you do great, Kachka. But these are the Dwarves of the Western Mountains,” Gaius pointed out. “And they are assholes.”
“Gaiussssssss!” Brannie called out, quickly beginning to panic. She’d assumed Gaius had snuck off to spend some time fucking Kachka Shestakova, since she’d heard before leaving Garbhán Isle that the king had spent the night with the Rider. So she wasn’t being nosey necessarily. She had just wanted to make sure everyone was all right.
What? It was her job!
And when she hadn’t found the king right away, she still hadn’t been too worried. But after a half hour of searching, she was moments from completely freaking out!
Where could they be?
“Brannie?”
Brannie glanced back at Aidan. “What?”
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for Gaius.”
“He’s probably off fucking the Rider. He could barely keep his eyes off her through the entire meal.”
“But where could they be? Would you travel that far away from camp to bang a Rider up against a tree?”
“That’s quite . . . descriptive, and if she was a screamer, probably.”
Brannie snarled at the Mì-runach. “Why are you bothering me?”
“I was making sure you’re okay. You wandered off—”
“I didn’t wander. I’m not a hatchling.”
“No, but you are a tad nosey. Is that what you and Izzy do when you’re not destroying nations? Follow young lovers around and gossip about them?”
Brannie was about to answer that with a fist to Aidan’s big, giant, stupid, handsome face, but then there they were! Suddenly. Walking and talking. Coming from absolutely nowhere!
“You can’t do this,” Gaius was telling Kachka, which seemed like a bad idea if he really didn’t want Kachka to do something.
“I am over one hundred. I have killed many enemies. And I have never been slave. I can do as I like, lizard.”
“Not with the Western Mountain Dwarves.” He caught Kachka’s arm, pulling her up short. “I know them, Kachka. They will not help you. They won’t even see you.”
“No,” Aidan piped in. “But they’ll help me.”
Gaius raised a brow. “Really?”
“You forget who my kin are, King Gaius. The House of Foulkes de chuid Fennah are sworn to protect the Western Mountains from the invasion of the awful Irons. That would be you, my lord,” Aidan finished on a whisper.
“So?”
“That requires a healthy relationship with the Western Mountain Dwarves. One I’m not above exploiting. If I’m asked nicely,” he added, leaning a little too close to Brannie.
“Do it, imperialist dog,” Kachka ordered. “We leave in morning.”
“This discussion isn’t over,” Gaius called after her seconds before he realized the Rider was clearly not listening to him.
“That woman is frustrating,” he growled, stomping off after her.
Aidan smiled at Brannie, and she snapped, “Shut up.”
The dragon threw up his hands. “I didn’t say anything!”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Kachka woke up just as the suns began to rise. The others were still asleep, all of them with weapons at hand, ready to be grasped and used.
But she quickly noticed that Gaius was not among them, his bedroll empty.
She stood. Stretched. Then followed his tracks down to a small stream. A stream he was pissing in while yawning.
Kachka bit her lip and eased up behind the dragon, being sure not to make a single sound or—
“Stop that,” Gaius said without even turning around.
“Senses like wolf.”
“Senses like a dragon.”
“Why do dragons need such senses?” she asked, curious. “You are so large and have fire and talons and wings.”
“You humans can’t help yourselves. You always have something to prove, and killing a sleeping dragon seems to bring you the highest honors.”
“Not humans. Men.”
He put his cock away, adjusted his chain-mail leggings, and crouched down to wash his hands in the stream.
“You don’t have a very high opinion of males, do you?”