Page 21 of Dragon Fight (The Dragon Queen #2)

21

"H ere’s the happy couple!” Kay announced as everyone in the expansive parlour turned around to take us in. “I told you they’d be down soon.”

“Can’t keep your hands off your lovely wife, eh, son?” Bernard said with a wink.

“Goodness, Bernard, there are children present!”

And there were, three young children standing between Ada and a man I presumed was her husband, Charles. When I was introduced to him, it struck me that he was like a copy of Brom, but one that had been rendered by an artist with little talent. Similar colouring, though somehow faded when the original was next to him, with a slighter build, and the need to puff his chest as though to compensate for his deficiencies. The children, two boys and a very pretty little girl, looked at me with interest and I wondered if they had ever seen a noblewoman in trousers. The little girl toddled towards me, before looking up and squawking, “Dragon!”

“Dragon riders, that’s right, darling,” Ada said, sweeping her daughter up and settling her on her hip.

Then I was introduced to Bernard’s sister and her husband and two of their teenage sons, along with Kay’s cousin and his wife. But all the chatter suddenly came to a halt when Draven made his appearance.

He stopped just inside the doorway, every inch the perfect prince and, with all of the conversations and insinuations of the afternoon in my head, I wondered if this was what Brom had seen in him when they were young. His dress uniform was of a severe black, relieved only by his badges of office that gleamed silver. His hair pulled back in a tight queue, his blue eyes stark against his pale skin as he nodded to everyone who got to their feet and sank into a deep bow or curtsey. Everyone but me, the dragonriders and Ada. She’d talked about being his queen during childhood, and I wondered if she wished she still was.

She absently jiggled her daughter as the little girl began to fret, to avoid her disturbing Draven’s entrance, but other than that she showed the prince no overt sign of respect. Instead she stared at him, almost without blinking, as if she would store away every detail of him to pore over later. Draven looked at her for only a moment, before shifting his focus to us.

Was he looking at Brom? My heart jumped in my chest as I leapt to conclusions swiftly, searching for evidence that all the happiness I had been enjoying was actually a lie, sure I couldn’t be that blessed. But then, how did the fact that those cool blue eyes came to settle on me fit with that reasoning? I didn’t know, had no answer and so I met his gaze head on, the moment stretching out until finally he shook his head and turned back to the rest of the room.

“Please, let's not stand on ceremony,” Draven said, finally. “We’re all friends here.”

“Just so, m’boy,” Bernard said, striding over and clapping the prince on the shoulder. “Now, whatever Cook has been working on all day, it smells delicious. Let’s go through to dinner.”

I’d hoped to be seated with my men, but as was often the case at such dinners, the hostess had separated out couples and colleagues, to avoid having clusters of conversations happening at one end of the table and none at the other. I ended up sitting between Kay’s cousin, Randall, and Ada’s husband, Charles.

“So, you’re Skanian?”

I blinked at Randall’s rough voice and glanced at him to see him peering down at me with a frown.

“Ah, yes, from Deepacre,” I replied, putting my spoon into my soup.

“Never heard of it,” was all Randall had to say.

“And you’re an Aster?” Charles at least was attempting a much more polite demeanour. “With estates of your own?”

Or maybe his enquiry about the worth of my estate was his way of making sure I wasn’t going to push Brom to claim his position as heir of Emberly—even though it was impossible for him to do so as wing commander.

“The Wentworths are a minor branch of the Aster family,” I replied. “And, yes, I inherited my father’s estate.” I knew how to handle this kind of question. Men of a certain status loved to discuss the size, productivity and strengths and weaknesses of their land. I listed the various merits of the estate for him and we ended up in a relatively in-depth discussion about the merits of Hereford cattle versus Black Angus, until Ada caught our attention.

Kay walked in carrying the joint of roast beef proudly on a platter, the sounds of oohs and ahhs from the table filling the room. But as she set the meat down in front of her husband, handing him the carving knife and fork, Ada came behind with a tray full of piping hot meat pies.

“I remember you always loved these when you were a boy,” she said, offering the tray to Draven. “So I asked Cook to make you some especially.”

And in so doing, you added to the already stressed woman’s workload, I thought uncharitably. My irritation increased as I watched Ada simper at the prince. Beside me, Charles watched his wife chatter on about the pies until Draven seemed to sense he had an audience.

That same cruel smile he’d sported when he sent me to shovel shit was on his face as he reached over and hooked Ada around the waist, pulling her down onto his lap like a common serving girl in an alehouse. She squeaked out her surprise, but this quickly dissolved into chuckles, once the tray was safely set down on the table. But even after she was relieved of her burden, Draven didn’t let her go. He helped himself to a pie, his eyes closing as he took the first bite before offering it to Ada. Her eyelids fluttered for a second as she bit into the pie, as if it was the most delicious thing she’d ever tasted.

“So your Herefords are producing almost twice as much beef per carcass even in thin pastures?” Charles asked, showing his wish to shift our focus back to our earlier conversation.

“From what my steward says, yes,” I replied.

“Hmm… Would you mind if I wrote the man a letter? They’re obstinately loyal to the Angus in these parts, but Harlston has notoriously poor pasture and if the Herefords are superior…”

“I’ll be sure to forward on his contact details for you,” I told Charles, my eyes sliding sideways to see that Ada now had her arms around the prince’s neck and she was laughing merrily. While we watched Ada and Draven, I realised that Brom watched me.

My husband’s eyes felt like they burned into me, cutting the distance between us to nothing and putting me in a far more intimate space than the prince and the lady in his lap. There was so much in his eyes I found it difficult to decode any of it, even as he seemed to silently urge me to.

“Come, Ada,” Kay said in a carefully jovial voice. “You must take some meat before these young savages devour the lot.” When she winked at the children at the table, they all began to cackle wildly, then pretended to growl.

Ada got to her feet and took her seat. She couldn’t avoid it, now that Kay had effectively called her out. Once she was seated, Draven addressed Charles.

“Your wife remains a most amiable dinner companion.”

“It's events like this which make her month, Your Highness.”

“Draven surely,” the prince replied, cutting into his meat. “We virtually grew up together.”

“You three did,” Charles said, nodding to Ada and Brom. “My father was fairly determined to put me forward as Emberly’s steward and had me working under Auld Lochie by that point. It was only the bonding of Cousin Brom to the magnificent Obsidian that saved me from the old man’s lectures on the veritable merits of hand carded wool versus drum carded wool.”

“Auld Lochie, gods rest his soul.” Bernard raised his glass and many of the other men at the table did the same. “What that man didn’t know about running Emberly could fit in a thimble, but damn me if he couldn’t talk. Worse when he had a drink in him.”

“So, unfortunately, I heard more about your exploits than I participated in them,” Charles continued. He turned to Ada. “My wife came to our marriage quite the wildling, used to wandering off on the moors at will, or dancing up a storm at all the local shindigs.” He let out a small sigh. “I’ve often wondered if she would have been better off marrying a man who lived in the capital. It is frightfully boring out here in the country.”

“But I have you, my love,” Ada replied warmly, gazing across the table at her husband. “And these little tearaways to look after.” Her sons played at being wolves or bears, growling and pawing at the air. “I find my hands and heart are quite full, thank you very much. But what of you, Lady Pippa? From country mouse to dragon rider cadet. You must have some stories to tell about the delights of Wyrmpeak?”

“Pippin is a cadet in the keep,” Soren said in a gruff voice. “The vast majority of her time has been spent training with the lads.”

“Oh, how dull,” Ada sighed.

“Training?” Randall said. “What is happening in the capital nowadays that a noblewoman would train to fight with men?”

“The queens of old used to,” Bernard pointed out.

“All the more reason to stop such nonsense,” Randall grumped.

“Pippin works hard and doesn’t expect special treatment due to her gender or social standing,” Soren said.

“Absolutely rubbish with a sword,” Draven said, with a smirk directed at the men in the room and Bernard, Randall and Charles all chuckled predictably at that. Then he fixed me in his sights. “Though with knives…” As I looked at him, I remembered him showing me how to use a knife to sneak up on a man and deliver a killing blow, and I recalled with some satisfaction the moment I had got the drop on him. He nodded slowly. “With the right training I think she could be quite good.”

“As long as she’s using those knives to slice up your meat, not your neck, eh, cousin?” Charles asked Brom, and I watched my husband force himself to meet the collective gaze of his family. “Letting women get too familiar with the martial arts? I’m not sure that’s wise.”

“Well, it isn’t for us to debate, is it?” Flynn had been conspicuously quiet till this point of the dinner, but he leaned forward now, challenge glittering in his eyes. “The king himself made Pippin a Royal Rider and we work hard to ensure she’s trained as best as she can be to participate fully in that role.”

“You think this undersized queen of yours is going to fly?” Randall asked with a frown. “Seems a cruelty to raise such a creature, knowing its fate.” Before I could answer him, he turned to Draven. “You need to talk to your father, Your Highness, and make him see sense. I know what we do if our dogs birth undersized puppies or a sheep drops a lamb that’s not likely to see daylight. It’s a mercy, it is. Women learning to fight? Three queen dragons? It’s not done. It’s just not done.”

“But those blind little puppies can’t do anything but squeak before you end things for them.” Draven’s reply was deadly quiet. “And the lamb will do little other than bleat before you wring its neck.”

“Please!” Kay burst out. “The children...”

But Draven forged on. His eyes burned into Randall’s, not looking away until after the older man did.

“A dragon, even at birth, has a consciousness. Much more than we do as babies. To kill such a thing, a sentient creature…”

I hadn’t realised I was holding my knife and fork so damn hard until I felt the hard edges bite into my palm.

“Well, it counts as murder in my book. And, as for Lady Pippa…” When Draven’s eyes met mine, they burned so brightly they were hard to look at. “She has done her damndest to rise above all the challenges that have been set for her, like a true lady. No one will fault her for that, not in my company.”

When the rest of my wing all agreed to that statement, when Randall stiffened and Charles turned his attention conspicuously to his plate, I wondered what Ada thought about Draven’s response to a question she’d put to me. When I turned my gaze to her, she had become quite pale, and her eyes were stark in her face, dancing with a strange light. I wanted to ask her whether she was alright but before I formed the words, she scrambled to her feet.

“I have a gift for Lady Pippa that I forgot was in my bag,” she said. “I’ll just go and get it.”