The Lightning grunted before asking, “And Keita’s grand scheme—you all right with it?”
Around the dried beef she chewed, Rhona replied, “It is what it is.”
“So you just accept it then?”
She shrugged, biting off a piece of bread. “Why wouldn’t I accept it?”
“But you didn’t ask anything. Push for more answers from Keita. What if this isn’t what it seems at all? What if it’s worse?”
“Then I’ll adjust. Because that’s what a good soldier does. I follow orders. I adjust. That’s what I’ll do now.”
Vigholf didn’t understand this female. She never asked questions, she never disobeyed, and she never did more than follow the orders given. Yet she was in no way lazy or stupid or incapable. Although female, she fought extremely well and deserved her title of sergeant. But Vigholf couldn’t help but see more for her. Just like the rest of her siblings, who, to be honest, he didn’t find nearly as capable.
So then what was it? Why did she seem happy to simply settle for being an order taker?
“Do you even like being a soldier?” he asked. “Because it never sounds like you do.”
Her eyes widened a bit and he realized he’d surprised her with his question. Had no one asked her if she’d wanted to be a soldier? Then again . . . after knowing Rhona’s mother, he doubted that anyone had asked Rhona anything. It was probably a given.
“I like it well enough,” she eventually answered.
“Do you love it?”
She took an even longer time to answer that, slowly chewing her food and staring thoughtfully out over the land.
“I’m good at it,” she finally replied, dark brown eyes focusing on him. “I am, point of fact, the best soldier you’ll ever meet. The most loyal, the most dedicated, the most skilled. But I am no more than that. I am no more than the best soldier you’ll ever meet.”
“You make that sound like a bad thing.” To be honest, he’d kill for a troop filled with nothing but soldiers like Rhona.
“Among my kin . . . it’s a disappointing thing. So when I talk about it, what you hear isn’t hatred over what I do. Just resignation.”
She handed over half the meat and bread he’d given her. “You’ll need to keep your strength up, too, Commander. We’ll be back in Dark Plains in another day and a half,” she added, expertly climbing down from her perch, “and I sense we’ll need your Northland strength.”
Then she was gone and Vigholf spent his watch thinking about brown eyes and the resignation he’d seen within them.
Chapter 7
They ended up taking several breaks because of Ren during the next day of travel. Whatever Magicks the Eastlander was doing were quite strong and Rhona began to worry about him.
While Keita took a quick nap by the base of a tree a few feet away, Rhona crouched beside Ren. They’d shifted to their human forms and dressed in case any true humans stumbled upon them. The path they’d been flying above was often busy this time of year, and Rhona had no desire to kill some human because he simply stumbled into the midst of dragons and felt the need to warn his neighbors.
“What can I do for you, old friend?” Rhona asked.
Ren smiled at her. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine. You look like you’ve been out drinking with my cousins.”
“Gods, do I really look that bad?” He grinned and Rhona felt better for seeing it. “I’m fine,” he insisted. “Really. Exhausted, but fine. Once I get the children into the Eastlands, my father’s strength and the power of my parents’ home will get me back to my old self. I promise.”
“Is there anything you need now?”
“Any food left?”
Her eyes crossed. “That barbarian’s eaten what we’ve brought with us. He just sucks up all the food around him without caring about anyone else.”
Ren chuckled. “It could be worse. He could be chatty.”
“Good point. You know how I hate chatty.” Rhona stood. “Let me see if I can track something down for you. I’ll even roast it for you.”
“That would be perfect. Thank you.”
“Anything for you, Ren of the Chosen.”
“Really? And why’s that then?”
“Because you manage to control Keita and keep her relatively safe. For that alone—the entire Clan owes you.”
Rhona lifted her head, sniffed the air. “Deer,” she said and went after it.
Vigholf caught the deer by its throat and slammed it into a tree, snapping its neck, and tossed the carcass to the ground. His stomach grumbled and he reached for the animal, planning to tear it open and enjoy its still-warm insides.
But before his fingers could touch the animal’s soft pelt, a blast of flame singed his human fingers.
“Gods-dammit! What was that for?”
“You have to be the most selfish dragon I’ve ever met,” Rhona accused. “And considering my kin—that’s truly saying something.”
“What did I do now?”
“Ren needs to eat.”
“So? Let him eat.”
“You’ve devoured all the dried beef and bread we had. You haven’t even asked any of us if we’re hungry or not.”
Vigholf shrugged. “I asked Keita. But she—”
“Keita? You asked Keita? Keita who’s not doing any Magicks to protect her nieces and nephew? Keita who’s not protecting anyone? Keita who’s done nothing but talk about all the bloody dresses she plans to get—not buy mind, but get—when she arrives in Dark Plains? She’s the one you’re making sure is fed?”
Vigholf cleared his throat, scratched the back of his neck. “Well . . . yeah.”
Rhona’s eyes narrowed and she shoved him back from the carcass. “I’m giving this to Ren. You can bring your precious Keita something else that you caught or killed.”
“That deer wasn’t for her. It was for me. I’m hungry.”
“Again?” Rhona gawked up at him. “How can you be hungry again? You’ve done nothing but eat all day. Now that I think about it, I’ve never seen a dragon eat while flying.”
“Then clearly you’re not putting in enough effort.” Rhona’s eyes narrowed again, and Vigholf, in no mood to fight with her, quickly put his hands up. “There’s more deer over in that glen. I’ll grab one of those.”
“Good.”
Rhona crouched beside the carcass and proceeded to skin it.
Vigholf watched her for a time until he asked, “How’s the Eastlander doing anyway?”
“He’s tired. To-his-bones tired.”
“You’re worried about him.”
“Aye. I am.”
“You two seem . . . close.”
Rhona gave a good yank and removed the deer’s pelt with her bare hands. “Aye. I guess we are.”
“How close?”
She tossed the pelt aside and looked up at Vigholf. “What?”
“How close are