The Claiming that Morfyd and Talaith had told Dagmar about. Romantic? Really? Looked more painful than romantic.

Cold blue eyes immediately locked on Dagmar. “You. Servant girl. Where is your queen?”

Bercelak placed his hand on the female’s shoulder and turned so he could speak to her in hushed tones. That was when Dagmar realized Bercelak had his own brand. This one covered his back all the way down until his ass met his thighs.

“This is Dagmar Reinholdt, my love. Of the north.” He gave something of a smile to Dagmar while motioning to the female. “Dagmar, this is the Dragon Queen of Dark Plains.”

Sizing the monarch up almost instantly, Dagmar dropped to one knee and bowed her head. “My liege. It is a great and overwhelming honor to meet you.”

“Hhhhm,” the Dragon Queen said. “One who knows the proper ways of things.”

Long legs, one of them branded, now stood in front of Dagmar. “Rise, Northlander.”

Dagmar did. “What is thy bidding, my liege?”

“Yes,” she said. “This one has been taught well.” She motioned toward the castle. “Take me to Annwyl.”

Dagmar headed back to the castle, the two dragons behind her.

“We need to put clothes on,” her consort told the Dragon Queen.

“I don’t have time for that.”

Dagmar stopped right inside the doorway leading to the Great Hall. “Your daughter left you clothes for your convenience, my liege.”

“Honestly! Humans and their weakness.”

“I couldn’t agree more, my lady.”

The queen sniffed and held her hand out. “Just give me the damn things.”

Once the queen had slipped the simple sheath gown over her head and Bercelak had pulled on black leggings and boots, Dagmar led them up the stairs and to the back of the hallway. The room had been set up specifically for when Annwyl was ready to give birth. Supplies had been stocked and at the ready and the bed had been much smaller than her own so that the healers and Morfyd could move around it easily.

As soon as they stepped into the hallway, the Dragon Queen’s offspring pulled themselves up from the floor.

The queen’s blue eyes swept across the group before she stepped next to Briec. “Where is Keita?” she demanded softly.

The silver-haired dragon shrugged and rolled his eyes. “I have no idea.”

The queen let out a sigh. “Foolish brat. I should have known … Never mind. I’ll deal with her later.” She leaned over and kissed her son’s cheek. “Briec.”

“Mother.”

She moved down the hallway, greeting each of her children.

Smiling at Éibhear, she brushed his blue hair off his worried face. “My baby boy.”

“Hello, Mum.” She went up on her toes and he came down a bit so she could kiss his forehead. She greeted Gwenvael next, kissing his cheek. “And my brat.”

“Mother.”

She stopped in front of Izzy, placing her hand on the girl’s cheek, wiping a tear with her thumb. “Hello, my little Izzy.”

Izzy choked on a sob. “Grandmum.”

The queen leaned down and kissed her cheek, then whispered something in the girl’s ear. Izzy let out a breath and nodded.

Several more steps took the queen to the front of the door Annwyl lay behind—and her eldest son.

“My son.”

“Mother.”

She petted his cheek, and Dagmar saw more affection in that single gesture than she’d ever seen before. The queen turned away from her son and grabbed the handle on the door. She snapped her fingers. “Northlander. With me.”

Gwenvael’s eyes widened and he reached for Dagmar. She shook her head. “It’s all right,” she whispered as she passed him and followed the queen.

The door closed behind them, and Dagmar saw the relief on Morfyd’s face at the sight of her mother. She stepped away from the bed and motioned her mother closer. The two began to speak in soft whispers while Talaith held Annwyl’s hand and wiped her brow. Three other healers worked with herbs and roots, creating different concoctions they hoped would help.

Dagmar looked down at Annwyl and she felt suddenly cold all over. The strong—albeit crying—female she’d met just yesterday in the library was gone. All that remained was a pale, sweat-covered body lying in soaked furs. The only sign of life was when her body would stiffen as another bout of pain shot through her. It would last twenty or so seconds, and then she’d be still again.

For the first time in years, Dagmar thought of her own mother. Had she looked like this before Dagmar came screaming into the world? Did she seem so weak and near death to Sigmar? And would these children spend their lives blaming themselves for their mother’s death as Dagmar secretly did?

Would they be right?

The Dragon Queen stepped away from her daughter and over to Talaith’s side. She took Annwyl’s hand from Briec’s mate and closed her eyes. Dagmar had no concept of how long the queen stood like that. A few seconds, minutes, days? She didn’t know. They all crowded around the bed, waiting for her to say something. Anything.

But she didn’t have to say a word. Not once she opened those eyes. Those blue eyes that had been so cold only minutes before when she’d looked at Dagmar, now appeared … devastated. She was devastated. Devastated because there was absolutely nothing she could do.

Dagmar knew this even before Talaith turned away and walked to the window. Even before Morfyd shook her head and said, “No, Mother. You have to do something. There must be something.”