G.A. Aiken Dragon Bundle: The Dragon Who Loved Me, What a Dragon Should Know, Last Dragon Standing & How to Drive a Dragon Crazy by G. A. Aiken Page B

all sorts of new and wonderful blacksmithing techniques. “They’ve been around for at least a millennia in the Ice Lands and they’ve been feared since the beginning.”
    “Can they really be trusted?”
    “They follow the dictates of their gods without question.”
    “So then the answer is no. They can’t be trusted.”
    Vigholf laughed. “Not a fan of the gods then?”
    “I call them if I need them, but I’d be a fool to trust them.”
    “I like the war gods.”
    Rhona crossed her eyes. “Of course you do.”
    “So”—Vigholf faced her—“would you like to have dinner tonight with me and my mother?”
    “No.”
    He scowled. “Why not?”
    “Well, first off I’m having dinner with my father, and second . . . no.”
    “You don’t like my mother,” he accused.
    “I don’t know your mother.”
    “And you never will . . . unless you have dinner with us.” His grin was wide . . . and a tad ridiculous—in an annoyingly adorable way. “Bring your father.”
    “You’re getting stranger every day, I just want to make that clear.”
    “That’s not a no to my dinner invitation.”
    At that point, Rhona was going to walk away, but that soft sound caught her attention first. A sound they both heard.
    After so much combat, it wasn’t surprising they both moved quickly, turning to face the small storage building on the left side of their path. Rhona dropped to a crouch, the tip of her wonderful new spear pointed directly in front of her. Vigholf stayed tall, his warhammer held high in one hand, a battle-ax in the other. She’d seen him use both at the same time to devastating effect for the enemy.
    Vigholf motioned to her with a dip of his head and Rhona, keeping low, moved forward, the Lightning guarding her rear.
    Then it came at them from the brush that lined the side of the building. Teeth snapping, small blade slashing. Reacting without thought, as Northlanders had been trained to do in combat, Vigholf stepped in front of Rhona, hammer raised high, but she slammed into his side, sending him stumbling a few feet away.
    “What the holy hells—”
    Rhona reached out and caught hold of their attacker, lifting it in the air, and holding it up so the Lightning could see it.
    “It seems my cousin’s offspring takes after his Great-Grandfather Ailean. He liked the surprise attack as well, according to me mum.”
    The boy, seeing he was well and truly caught, burst into dramatic tears and Rhona sighed. “And, sadly, he takes after his Uncle Gwenvael. This is Talan,” she reminded Vigholf. “Fearghus and Annwyl’s son who we’ve rushed here to protect.”
    “I remember. But where’s the girl? Talwyn?” Vigholf demanded, his gaze searching, an air of anxiety rippling around him. “Where there’s the boy, there’s his sister.”
    Rhona shook the boy she still held. “Where is she, little snake?”
    He wailed louder and Rhona glanced up at the Kyvich to make sure they weren’t taking any of this seriously. And although they watched her and Vigholf closely, they made no moves to step in. Good. They knew their place. They may be protectors, but Rhona was family.
    “For the love of the gods,” a voice said from behind them, “stop the wailing.”
    Rhona smiled and faced the centaur. “Hello, Ebba. How’s the nanny business going for you?”

    “I won’t say they’re unmanageable,” the pretty centaur told them as they slowly made their way back toward the castle. “But they are the reason I’m paid so well.” She smiled. “I’ve already bought land near the ocean. Lovely view.”
    She walked a few more feet and stopped next to a tree with a large hole beside the base.
    An empty hole.
    “Uh-oh.”
    Vigholf didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Uh-oh?”
    “I left Talwyn here.”
    “You left a child buried in the ground?” Rhona demanded.
    “She was just buried up to her neck. Besides, I didn’t put her in there. He did.” The centaur pointed at the boy. “Didn’t you,