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Chapter Eight
We moved through the archways into a large chamber where the stone had been polished to glassy finish and the floor reflected us back up in shadowy form – a disadvantage, I thought, for those of us wearing skirts with little undergarments. The dress I wore clung close enough that the reflection showed nothing it should not however, so I continued confidently.
Fae courtiers, imposing for their otherworldly beauty and elegance, mingled amongst themselves, disdaining the more ordinary looking brethren who had assembled waiting for an audience with the princes or just to watch it occur. I heard laughter, and looked up, to see others leaning over the balustrade of balconies. Somewhere on those balconies, a minstrel played a harp, and someone sang, her voice hauntingly beautiful.
Men and women of mankind huddled together, fearfully. Brought here, I thought, against their wishes, having earnt the brethren’s ill-will through some trespas
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The audience dragged on, but I was glad for the time it took, for it occurred to me that the sooner my audience with the Prince Rivyn and his wife, the sooner this part of my life would be concluded, and I was not ready to say goodbye to my dragon. I rested my head against his chest and held him against me, breathing in the now familiar and dear incense scent, trying to memorise the details of him. He stood with preternatural stillness, a statue but for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, his attention on the audience, although he no longer translated for me, and his arms rested around me. I felt the change pass through him before the gathering began to move and realised the audience had come to its conclusion. “Come,” he murmured. “Rivyn and Siorin await us.” I released him and he placed his hand on the small of my back, maintaining contact and cutting passage for us both through courtiers, brethren, an
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The chamber we were taken to was generous in size and appointment, and had access to a private terrace in deference, I thought, to Aurien’s nature. There was a bathing chamber attached through a doorway hidden in the gauzy curtains. Aurien spoke to the servant in Fae, without looking at her. His gaze was fixed to the sky beyond the doorway, and his face held the aloof expression I had become familiar with as dragon-deep-in-thought. The servant withdrew with a small smile at me. “She will bring clean clothing and food,” Aurien told me, walking to the door and out onto the terrace. I followed. He leaned against the balustrade, looking out over the city that ranged out below and the green enchanted forest beyond it. I could see the bright blue waters of an ocean to the left, lapping against the white crest of a sandy shore. “I forget how beautiful it is here,” he said. I leaned against him and he shifted to put his ar
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I worried the round stone in my hands as we leaned over the map. The canvas sides of the tent snapped in the wind. I did not know where the stone had originated; a paperweight someone had lifted from the ground in their journeys that had made its way onto my table, and from there, into my pocket. Its surface was cool and smooth under my fingers, its imperfections well known. Outside the tent I could hear the movements of the camp; voices, the distant song of the bards that seemed to flock to the camp in even greater numbers than combatants, the crack and screech of weapons and yells of the drill master training recruits in the distance, and the shift of leather and metal of the general’s horses tied outside. The wind was biting. We were near enough the mountain range between Uyan Taesil and the neighbouring realm of Diyet Noyr that the wind brought with it the scent of snow from the peaks and swept through the canvas with sharp icy teeth
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“I like her,” Aurien stepped over to the table and inspected the contents of the tray. He liked her. I felt a spike of pain. Ashara was exactly what he was looking for. Half Fae, she was a brethren wife he could take back to his cave and make a family with. “She is very efficient.” “Yes,” I swallowed, my mouth dry. “She is.” He was my dragon, I thought, he had pledged himself to me for the rest of his life. Was I selfish enough to keep him for that long, though? Win the war first, I told myself. Take back Uyan Taesil, free the brethren from Clareath, and then… what will be will be. He passed me a plate of roast meat and vegetables. I sat on one of the seats and took the knife and fork into my hands but looked at the plate without appetite. My stomach had been delicate over the last few days; worry and nerves making themselves physically known. I picked at the food. “General Mariene is an adva
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I surfaced into the morning heavily, my eyes reluctant to open and my body reluctant to leave sleep. Aurien was not in bed with me. I had slept late, and he had risen without me. I could hear his voice in the main chamber of the tent, speaking quietly in Fae. I heard Ashara respond and felt my heart tighten. I pulled my exhausted body up to sitting, swinging my feet to the ground, and sat there a moment, fighting a wave of dizziness and nausea. Was I sick? More importantly, was I going to be sick? I swallowed laboriously, trying to hold my rebelling stomach in place. Dizziness and nausea subsided, and I stood, wondering at the strange and persistent illness that had been bothering me. I pulled on the tunic dress of the day before, slowly buttoning the front, and hesitated against the tent flap. They were no longer speaking. What did that mean? What would I walk out into? What would I do if they were kissing or worse? I closed my eyes, st
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“Valsaurienkachelial taradrakyn has brought in many of our most dangerous prisoners,” the same man spoke. He had not been the one to return to the wall. “Those that others have been unable to capture.” “Is this warlock dangerous?” “Exceptionally,” the soldier replied for Aurien. “But he is not hostile, my lady.” “Daerton is an addict,” Aurien settled upon his haunches curling his tail around his forelegs neatly. I slid from his back, landing deep into the snow. Aurien blew out a breath, amused. I picked my way around to his chest, and sat upon his paws, drawing his tail over my lap. It was much warmer surrounded by dragon-scale. He looked towards the entrance to the wall, and I followed his gaze. The soldier returned with three fur clad men, their cloaks swirling the dark red of blood against the white. These men’s armour was finer than the soldiers around us, the colou
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Daerton’s fingers were long and elegant and never still. He picked at the threads of his robes, twisted locks of his hair, or fidgeted with the metal collar around his neck constantly. He had the pale skin of someone who had not seen the sun in years, almost transparent, the blue veins vivid against it and his eyes were night dark, intelligent, and wary. A contrast of light and dark, I thought, a man conflicted. “This isn’t an army,” he had declared as we landed in the camp. “It’s half a tavern fight, at most.” He paced the interior of my tent, touching, moving, and generally prying into every object left in the open. He picked up my smooth rock, and rolled it in his hand, his eyes coming to me. He knew that it was my rock, as if I had imprinted myself upon it. “I’m not staying in here,” he said as Ashara and Mesandre laid the table with a meal. I was famished and took my seat with eagerness. The meat had been cook
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I woke alone. There was a lot of noise outside; the camp was breaking up in preparation for our travel to Reknoc. I could hear Ashara instructing servants to move items from the other tent chamber. I sat up and fought back a moment of queasy dizziness. “Princess,” Ashara opened the tent flap. “Ah,” she said. “I was just coming to wake you. Are you well?” She noted my face. “Something has disagreed with me,” I told her. “I will be alright in a moment.” She ducked out and returned with both a bucket and a camp roll. “Here, Princess Liera, eat this slowly.” She set the bucket on the bed beside me. I ate a few mouthfuls of the bread, and the uneasiness in my stomach gradually subsided enough for Ashara to dress me, after which I sat gratefully at the table and slowly ate the food she had prepared for my breakfast whilst she brushed and braided my hair. “Aurien?” I asked her
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