“I thought his name was Ailean the Wicked.”
“To some. To me he was Ailean the Beautiful. He adored me. And like him, I love to spend my time as human, among humans. I find them so amusing and cute.”
“You mean like baby ducks?” he asked, unable to keep the sarcasm from his voice.
Keita grinned. “Exactly like baby ducks!” She stopped at an iron smith and looked over his wares. “These are nice weapons.”
“If you say so.”
When she saw the smith glare, Keita quickly pulled the Northlander away. “Could you at least pretend to be pleasant? No use insulting the man’s goods while he’s standing right there.”
“Should I lie to him?”
“Aye! You should. Would it kill you to do so?”
“If I tried to pretend those weak weapons he’d created could protect me in a true fight—yes.”
Keita stopped and looked up at the warlord. “Are you always like this?’
“As a matter of fact…no.” He returned her gaze. “It seems to be you.” The royal dropped his arm and flounced away, only to return a few moments later. “You know, I’m trying to be nice.”
“I know. I just don’t know why.”
“I’m always nice. I’m known for my niceness.”
“You mean when you’re not trying to kill people.” She pointed at her chest. “I did not kill him.”
“But you were going to.”
She let out a breath and glanced around. No one was paying them much attention, so she stepped closer and said, “I tell you this in confidence.”
“As you like.”
“Bampour had sent an assassin to kill my brother’s children in their cribs. Because he believes they’re evil.”
“Are they?”
“Of course not!”
“How would you know? You haven’t been home.”
“Och!” She stormed off. “I don’t know why I bother talking to you.” He didn’t know either, but there was something about annoying the royal he did find enjoyable. He knew it wasn’t a very honorable thing to do, but he simply couldn’t help himself.
Ragnar caught up with her while she stood at a dressmaker’s stall.
“What do you want?” she snapped while she examined the already-made gowns.
“I didn’t mean to anger you.”
“Is that supposed to be an apology?”“No,” he admitted. “It’s not.”
“You are the most…frustrating male.”
“So I’ve been told.”
She pulled a dress off one of the wooden racks and placed it against her body. “What do you think?”
“We both know you look beautiful in anything. Will you force me to remind you of that fact constantly?”
“Would it kill you to simply say it?” She placed the gown back on the rack and continued to search. “Do you have a mate, warlord?”
“No.”
“Does this surprise you? Because it doesn’t surprise me.”
“You don’t have a mate either.”
“I don’t want a mate. Clinging, grasping males who feel the need to brand you in some ancient ritual that allows them to feel superior while ruining my beautiful human skin.” She held up her right arm and stroked it with her left hand. “Look at this skin. This is gorgeous. And I’ve managed to maintain it for quite a long time with very little effort. I’m not about to allow some pathetic male to ruin it so he can crow to his friends afterward.”
“Well, you’ve managed to turn eons of ancient and powerful mystical rituals to dragons everywhere into an ‘I hate males’ diatribe that somehow centers around you.”
“I don’t hate males.” She picked up another gown, scrunched her nose a bit, and quickly put it back. “On the whole, I adore them.”
“How can you say you adore them?”
“But I do. For short periods of time. Then again, I adore children for short periods of time and rainstorms for short periods of time and hot, sunny days—for short periods of time. But anything that goes on and on for ages just gets on my nerves.”
“Good to know.”
“So what do you look for in a female?” she asked, and Ragnar frowned a bit.
“Pardon?”
“What do you look for in a bed partner? Tall? Fat? Long tail? Short tail? Wide hips? Narrow hips?”
He held his hand up. “All right…stop.” He didn’t like where this conversation was going. “I don’t look for anything in females.”
“Ohhh.” She gazed at the dress in her hands, then said, “Well, I hope you’re not interested in Ren then, because that’s not his sort of thing.” She looked off and added, “I don’t think.”
“I’m not looking for that either.”
“You don’t have to sound so judgmental.”
“I’m not. I just don’t know why you’re asking all these questions.”
“And I don’t know why you won’t just answer.”
“Fine. I’m looking for someone nice and sweet who I won’t have to sleep with one eye open to ensure I see the next morning.”
“Good luck finding that among She-dragons,” she murmured.
“What was that?” Ragnar asked, even though he’d heard just fine.