“And you’d be right,” Gwenvael said from the bed.
“See? I know my brothers quite well. Now, go. Try it on.”
“Yes!” Gwenvael cheered from the bed. “Strip naked for me and my sister.”
Keita sniffed. “You don’t think I planned for that, my disgusting brother? Knowing how you turn everything into something inappropriate?” She walked to the door and opened it. “Bring it in.” One of the servants brought in a tall screen and unfolded it. Once the servant was gone, Keita pulled Dagmar behind it. “Try it on.” Without questioning, something Dagmar did about nearly everything in her life, she did as the royal ordered.
Keita sat on the bed next to her brother while his little human put on the dress she’d chosen for her. “Remember me now?” Keita demanded, making sure to flare her eyes in a terrifying manner.
Gwenvael laughed. “I don’t know how I managed to forget you.”
“Nor do I. I am, in a word, unforgettable.”
Putting his arm around her shoulders, Gwenvael kissed her forehead.
“Everything all right, little sister?”
“We need to talk,” she murmured softly.
“About Esyld?”
Keita blinked, looked up at her brother. “How did you know?”
“That Lightning told us earlier. Why would Mother send him to fetch her anyway?”
“Long story. And, of course, there’s much more to it.”
“Of course. But tell me, are that Lightning and his barbarian entourage going back soon…as in tonight?”
“No. Because Esyld is only part of it.”
“What’s the other part of the problem?”
Keita scratched her cheek. “Irons. Possibly.”
“Iron what?”
“Iron dragons, you idiot.”
Gwenvael’s arm fell away, and he gawked at his sister. “What about them?”
“Our mother seems to fear they may be planning war.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am. At the very least Mother is.”
“Mother hates them. Would love a chance to kill them all.”“Exactly. She wants war, but I’m hoping I can prevent that.”
“Do you really think it’s wise to get between Mother and her love of carnage?”
“This has to stop. First she used the Northlanders to get her war, now she’s aiming at the Irons.”
“Or she’s right and they’re aiming at us.”
Keita shrugged. “I guess anything is possible.” She frowned at the screen. “What are you doing back there, luv?”
“It’s very bright. I feel like I can be seen for miles.” Keita raised her hands to the ceiling. “Why? Why do you all question me?”
A long sigh came from the other side. “If I didn’t know you were his sister before…”
“Come! Let us see!”
After several moments, the warlord’s daughter stepped out from behind the screen, and Keita clapped her hands together. She did have an eye, didn’t she?
And when she heard her brother’s sharp intake of breath, she knew she wasn’t the only one who thought so.
True, it didn’t make Dagmar Reinholdt any less plain of face, but it brought out her eyes and her eyes were stunning.
Keita moved closer to Dagmar, pulling the skirt of the gown out for the full effect. “You look almost perfect,” Keita told her.
“Almost?” Gwenvael repeated in disbelief.
Keita stood behind Dagmar again and removed her head scarf. She grabbed a brush from the dressing table and swiped it through the Northlander’s hair until it fairly glowed, the locks reaching to her small waist. “Now she looks perfect.”
Keita pushed her in front of the mirror again. “I know the bodice is a bit low cut,” she said, quickly placing small flowers she’d brought with her into Dagmar’s hair before the Northlander could tell her to stop, “but I know my brother’s taste. Figured I’d throw the lusty bastard a bone.”
“It is a lovely gown, Keita,” Dagmar said. “Thank you.”
“Of course. An average grey gown for the day-to-day is absolutely fine, sister, but you don’t want anyone at important royal dinners thinking you’re a servant as well.” She winked at Dagmar in the mirror and received what suspiciously appeared to be a smile in return.
Keita turned Dagmar to face her again and removed the spectacles from her face. “Can you see without these? ” Keita yelled.
“No,” the warlord’s daughter snapped, her smile vanishing as she snatched the spectacles back and put them on again. “Nor am I deaf! Is there something wrong with your family I’ve not been alerted to?” she asked.
And Keita replied with pure honesty, “You’ll have to be much more specific than that, I’m afraid, Lady Dagmar.” Ragnar glared at his brother and cousin. “You’re going to make me go down there alone?”
Meinhard pointed at his leg. “Still healing.”
“Shut up.” Ragnar looked at Vigholf. “And you, brother? What’s your excuse?”
“I’ve been disfigured!” he yelled, pointing at his hair. “What more do you need?”
“For you to stop being such a girl,” Ragnar muttered.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Resigned to sitting through an entire meal with self-important Fire Breathers, Ragnar walked out of the room—making sure to slam the door behind him—and headed down the stairs.