Semua Bab The Golden Dragon's Princess: Bab 11 - Bab 20

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

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

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

The dwarven barracks were austere. Ten chambers, with a large bath chamber on one end, and room to spread bedrolls upon the floor. Mariene regarded it with satisfaction. “This will do the troops nicely,” he declared. He and Ruelke oversaw the movement of the soldiers into the caves.   The servants, bards, and other camp followers were left to fend for themselves in the main cavern, making beds out of what they could unpack from the wagons.   I was guided deeper, to where a series of chambers connected - an audience room, a bedroom, and a bathroom. Ashara made a bed for her and Mesandre in the audience room, against a wall, and then laid the bed in the bed chamber with the rugs and blankets that Aurien and I used, before departing to oversee the unpacking of our clothing.   “There will be a feast tonight,” Aurien told me as we examined the rooms. “You will be expected to attend.”   “Mmm,” I wanted not

They were beginning, I thought proudly, following Leongrad’s gesture with my eyes and viewing them as he would, to look like a functional army. Ruelke’s hard work showed in their order even after marching all day.   “I apologise,” I stepped away from Aurien to meet him. “We are not here as aggressors, I assure you.”   He took me by the shoulders and kissed my cheeks with familiarity that was on the cusp of inappropriate considering our positions but was born from the close relationships our families had always shared.   “In that case, welcome to Arden Retis,” he beamed down at me. “I don’t doubt there is a lengthy story behind your arrival in such a company.” He looked up at Aurien. “Amazing. Greetings mighty dragon.”   “Greetings Lord Leongrad,” Aurien replied with dragon reserve.   “This is Aurien, my dearest friend,” I looked up at my dragon. His scales gleamed in the sunlight