That made the dragon chuckle. “You don’t hear that very often from Southlander women.”

“I do not know why,” Elina answered honestly. “I would never want to be man. That cock hanging between your legs all day. You have no control of emotions. If we leave you to yourselves, you destroy without thought; rage without reason; and attempt to fuck anything that wants you to leave them be.”

“We’re not all like that.”

“But most. And your lack of control makes all of you essentially weak, even though your upper bodies have so much strength. It is sad.”

“If you think so little of us, why do you bother having us around?”

“We need you to have the babies. And . . .”

“And?”

“That is all I can think of.”

The dragon’s eyes crossed. “The way you think of males, it’s a wonder you fucked me at all.”

Elina shrugged. “You were there.”

Celyn’s horse suddenly reared up when he pulled on the reins. “I was there?” he snarled.

“That is how we fucked . . . because you were there.”

“So you would have fucked anybody who was with you last night?”

“No. I fucked you because I wanted to fuck you.” Elina thought about it, then added. “I will probably fuck you tonight as well. You were quite satisfying.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Why does that upset you?”

“I have no idea.” He placed the palms of his hands against his eyes. “I think you’re making me insane.”

“Me? That is first.”

He lowered his hands and glowered at her. “You don’t have to sound so proud of yourself.”

“No . . . but I will.” She smiled and the dragon did the same. “Believe it or not, Dolt, I choose my lovers carefully. One is fool not to in these dangerous times. But at end of day, I fuck you because I want to fuck you.”

He sighed sadly. “Can’t you say making love? Fuck is just so harsh.”

Elina reared back in her saddle a bit. “Tell me you joke.”

“I do joke,” he laughed. “But it was worth it to see the look on your face.”

He and his travel-cow started off again and Elina followed, fighting her desire to shoot him in the back with an arrow as the laughter went on and on.

They continued across the Southlands until they reached the territorial lines between the Outerplains. That’s where they halted their horses and sat . . . staring.

“You look worried,” Celyn finally stated.

“I always look like this.”

“No. You usually just look concerned . . . or a little angry. This expression . . . definitely worried.”

“I am fine. And we should go. We should reach the Conchobar Mountains pass by nightfall so that we can head through first thing in the morning.”

Celyn blinked. “What are you talking about? The mountain pass is right there.”

“There are two passes through Conchobar Mountains.”

“That’s right. I forgot.”

“One here,” she went on, “that goes into Annaig Valley. The second is the one that will place us inside Steppes territory. That is one we will take.”

“Or,” Celyn suggested, “we can take this pass and go into Annaig Valley.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Mostly for the hells of it. I call it the sweep-through.”

“A sweep-through? What battle tactic is that?”

“It’s not a battle tactic. It’s what my sister Brannie and I used to do when Mum and Da had parties in Da’s house. He had a lot of intellectual friends back then. And let me tell you . . . intellectuals can drink. So we would come downstairs like we were just wandering by to say good night or chat a bit with my da’s human friends. And by the time we got back upstairs, we would have eight bottles of wine, two whole turkeys, several loaves of bread, and some sweets.”

“You want us to sweep through Annaig Valley so you can steal wine and food?”

“No. Just to get a look. If we do it casually enough, I doubt anyone will notice. We won’t even go near the city of Levenez; which, in my estimation, would be the most dangerous place to go.”

Elina glanced off, but when she looked back at him, she asked, “How did you steal whole turkey and no one notice?”

“Skills. Very impressive skills.”

Var tracked his mother down in the library. It was a dark but vast room, its winding length reaching deep into the castle. His mother often found the farthest spot and settled in to get real work done. The only ones who ever bothered her here were Var, Frederik, or his mother’s assistant.

As he’d known he would, Var found his mother sitting on the floor, her back against a wall. Books, scrolls, and unused parchment surrounded her. Her spectacles had been pushed up so that they now rested on her forehead rather than her nose.

He sat down beside her and picked up one of the scrolls. He read through the information quickly and, after a few minutes, his mother asked, “So what do you think?”

“I think that the Salebiri family grows in power. And we should be greatly concerned. But if we can get an alliance in place with the Riders of the Steppes . . . that will be nothing but good for us.”

“And?”

Var turned things over in his mind before adding, “But we should never trust the Riders. Not fully. Unlike the Northlanders, their loyalties can be bought with enough gold and jewels. They talk of loyalty and honor, but only to their own people. Outsiders are fair game.”