He did know. That’s what ate at him. It was one thing to be cold and calculating, a necessity when dealing with politics and world rulers. But it was another thing entirely to be mean and cruel because he had issues over his long-dead father. So whatever he had to do to fix this with Keita—in all honesty, he could care less about the Eastlander, except for his connection to Keita—he would do. If only she’d give him the chance.

And, for the remainder of their journey, she hadn’t given him a chance. Since he and his kin planned to head home as soon as they were done here, he had no choice but to push the issue now. He refused to return to the Northlands with her hating him.

Ragnar met her at the top step before entering directly into the mountain. He touched her shoulder, and she stopped. After a moment, she faced him. He wanted to look away from her. All that royal coldness staring down at him made his shame even worse because he knew he had no one to blame for it but himself.

“Yes, Lord Ragnar?”

“Before we go in,” he said, “I want to tell you how sorry I am. About what I said to you. It was wrong, and I understand if you can’t forgive me, but I do hope that you’ll at least accept my apology.” For a moment, Ragnar wasn’t sure he’d said those words out loud.

Nothing about her changed. Neither the expression on her face nor the coldness in her eyes. She showed no anger, no sorrow, not even boredom.

And without saying anything, Keita walked away from him and inside the Dragon Queen’s mountainous court. Ragnar followed, sighing heavily. It appeared as if he’d be going home with Keita hating him after all.

Another set of stairs awaited them, and the Blue stood in the middle of them, tapping his front claw and glaring. “You two are taking forever.” Keita walked up to her brother and stood beside him on the step.

The Blue’s impatience turned to concern. “Are you all right, Keita?

You’ve been looking like this the past couple of days. You’re not worried about Mum, are you? You know how she is sometimes. She doesn’t mean half of what she says.”

Keita didn’t respond to her brother, instead focusing on Ragnar, who now stood at the bottom of the stairs.

“You were saying, Lord Ragnar?”

Damn. He knew she wouldn’t make this easy, but…damn. Ragnar briefly closed his eyes, girded his loins, and said again, “I’m sorry, Keita, and I do hope you can forgive me.”

The Blue frowned, his gaze bouncing back and forth between them.

“Sorry for what?”

Keita continued to stare at Ragnar. She wouldn’t answer her brother’s question, but instead patiently waited for Ragnar to do so.

Never before had the desire to run away like a panicked cub filled him like this. But he remembered his mother’s words clearly: “You can’t apologize on your own terms, Ragnar.”

As always, his mother was right. So, while gazing into Keita’s dark brown eyes, Ragnar admitted to the brother who adored her more than life itself, “I made the crude and completely reprehensible suggestion that your sister is a slag.”

Again, Keita’s expression didn’t change, and, even when that blue fist hit Ragnar with the power of a rampaging herd of cattle, he kept his gaze locked with hers.

Ragnar stumbled to the side, but didn’t fall. It wasn’t easy. It was a shame the cub didn’t have more of an edge—he had the power and strength to be a hell of a warrior, if not the skill and will.

A black talon pointed at him from a blue claw. “You talk to my sister like that again, and your brother and cousin won’t find enough of you to put on your funeral pyre. Do I make myself clear?” Moving his jaw and trying to get feeling back on that side of his face, Ragnar nodded. “You do.”

“Good. Now”—the Blue huffed a little—“I strongly suggest we keep this between us. If our father gets a whiff, we’ll be back to Lightning versus Fire all over again with the alliance completely destroyed.” The Blue gently placed his claw on his sister’s shoulder. “Are you all right with that, Keita?” She nodded, and, after one more disgusted scowl in Ragnar’s direction, the Blue said, “Let’s go then,” and headed up the rest of the stairs.

Ragnar continued to gaze into Keita’s eyes, still hoping for the forgiveness he had no right to ask for. Her smile, when it came, bloomed into Ragnar’s life like the two suns abruptly moving past dark storm clouds and lighting the world around him.

“Now,” she said with a wink, “I’ll accept your weak little barbarian apology.”

Chapter Thirteen

“Do you need a refresher on court etiquette?” Keita asked Ragnar, still shocked the Lightning had apologized to her. And not some stiff-upper-lip,

“I apologize if I offended you, my lady” kind of apology. But an actual “I’m sorry” that he’d meant. And because he’d meant it, she had happily accepted. Because Keita simply didn’t believe in holding grudges unless it was necessary. Why sit around loathing someone because they had a moment of stark idiocy? Such a waste, in her opinion.

And as long as the Northlander meant what he said to her—and she knew he had because she could always spot a lie or a liar—she wouldn’t hold it against him.

Of course, if he said something like that to her again, she’d poison his drinking water and giggle at his deathbed. But that seemed only fair.

“Perhaps a small reminder wouldn’t hurt.”