Heartscale

by Lola Ford

  The dragoness had been waiting to be able to talk to them privately, but Nerie’s shock forced her to speak. The distress in her tone, along with the implications that the words conveyed, nearly made Nerie trip over her elegant skirt.

  Seeing her falter, Brantom stopped and cordially offered her his arm.

  “Princess.”

  Nerie hesitated for half of a heartbeat before placing her hand on his proffered arm, even though it was the last thing she wanted to do.

  They entered the great hall, and Vizen pulled out chairs for each of the nobles. Soren sat at his customary seat in the center of the table, while Brantom was placed to his right. Nerie sat to Soren’s left, with Alaena and Astra to her left. Marza and Niro sat to Brantom’s right. The guard woman, who remained nameless, stood behind and to the right of Brantom, her hand never leaving her sword hilt.

  The royals were served even as the other members of Brantom’s envoy slowly filed in.

  Bread was broke and wine drank, but all sat heavily on Nerie’s stomach as the night drew on. No other mention was made of the wedding proposal, but Nerie’s anxiety grew.

  Brantom talked of proposed trade routes, and recent weather. He asked after Myles, his ambassador, who was summoned to head table late in the feast. The man laid nearly flat upon the stone floor as he pledged himself to his prince. Nerie surmised that he had been waiting for a signal that he would be called upon, as while surprised to see the Princes and Princess, he was dressed in his most formal attire and had appeared at the table only moments after being summoned.

  After the feast, the visiting royals were each shown to their own suites and bid good evening. Brantom had taken Nerie’s hand and kissed it lightly, smiling his first true smile at her. But that made her feel even more uneasy. He had also kissed Astra’s hand in farewell, and she had squeezed his hand lightly, batting her long eyelashes at him.

  With that, he had disappeared into his suite, and Astra and Nerie had gone their separate ways without speaking. Nerie, straight to Soren’s quarters and her access point to the dragons, and Astra to her own rooms.

  ***

  Once she and Soren were both in the courtyard and leaning against Kiriga and Ilex, the conversation that the dragons seemed to be holding in exploded.

  What is going on? Soros demanded.

  Her haunches were still in the hatching ground, but her front end was leaning on the rooftop, her neck snaked towards the courtyard where her children and mate rested.

  Why… How do they have dragon eggs? Riya asked, at the same time.

  She was fanning her large wings as she sat on the far side of the courtyard.

  “Why would you and Wyla not speak to us?” Soren asked Eras directly.

  Wyla could not hear the prince - or any of the Lutesians. Nor could I. We were worried that shouting across the country was not the smartest way to communicate. What if they could hear us? We could talk to the prince directly - when he wanted us to hear him - but that puts us at a disadvantage.

  Eras’s orange scales bristled in the starlight.

  And he had the eggs, Wyla said quietly.

  How can they hide themselves then? Nerie asked, uncertain. The mere concept of keeping the dragons out was foreign to her. Not when she was so intimately linked with Kiriga.

  I don’t know, Wyla’s voice was quiet.

  And the eggs? Soros asked.

  The eggs had been delivered to the hatching ground during the feast, and Soros had clucked like a hen for the last two hours about how cold they were. How they were too quiet for eggs so close to hatching. Even now, her tail curled around them possessively.

  I could sense them as soon as he entered the city. Brantom arrived in Cian, claiming he had the eggs and that he was to be escorted by me to the capital. We were scared that he would hurt the eggs if too many dragons showed up, Wyla sounded tired. She had just walked across the country and Nerie thought that the normally opalescent dragon looked pale.

  But why? Mazen’s lilac eyes glowed from the opposite corner of the courtyard from where Nerie sat with Kiriga.

  We don’t know. Eras’s voice was nearly a growl. He could block us from his mind after all.

  “How is that possible?” Soren repeated Nerie’s earlier question, confused.

  They did it in the Great War to hide themselves from us, Soros said, her rage palpable.

  Nerie felt a shiver run down her spine. The marriage proposal, the eggs, and the ability to hide their minds were only a few of the things that frightened her about the Lutesians. Whatever their reason for coming here, Nerie felt that it would not bode well for herself, Kiriga, or Situra as a whole.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  Nerie

  Nerie, Soren and the dragons were up late into the night, discussing the visiting royals, their possible motives, and their ability to block the dragons from their minds.

  When Nerie finally found herself settled into bed, her mind still raced unable to sleep. She kept going back to the visiting prince.

  Brantom was well bred and a good orator, however there was something in the way that his eyes flashed that set the hair on the back of her neck to rising, and it wasn’t just the fact the dragons couldn’t hear into his mind.

  Sleep. Kiriga encouraged her, tiredly.

  Nerie dutifully closed her eyes and took slow deep breathes. She was keeping Kiriga awake with her tumultuous thoughts. Soon after, with help from the dragoness she had calmed down and fell into a restless sleep.

  ***

  The morning dawned bright and early, not that Nerie even had a window to the outdoors, but Kiriga was awake thus so was she.

  By the time she had set up in bed, Karina was there ready to attend her. Another new ball gown was presented, and after Nerie bathed she was trussed up into the garment. It was much more formal than the style of dress she normally wore, with a strong shaping boning, and straight skirts.

  Karina spent the time it took to lace and button up telling her that she was to attend court for the full day. For the time being court would be held not in the Solar but would be moved to the grand ballroom.

  All meals were to be served there too, so she was quickly ushered out the door by her maid. As she navigated the now familiar halls, she found herself walking with both the king and queen. They too would be attending to their guests and spending the day at court.

  Arriving in the grand hall, Nerie was surprised to see Astra already there, directing table arrangements and decor. Her half-sister didn’t even look up as the trio entered the room but scowled deeply when Alaena started to take over the duties within moments. Astra stormed off, leaving the room in a huff.

  Soren placed an arm on Nerie’s shoulders, patting them awkwardly. She glanced up at him, but his eyes were unfocused in the sightless daze of one talking to their dragon. Whatever they were saying, it was not a conversation that she could overhear.

  She turned her focus outward, looking at the arriving nobles. No one wanted to miss the foreign emissaries and were acting as if their life depended upon making it to this visit.

  Of course, they were, Nerie thought sourly, it was just another form of entertainment to them. They had no idea anything was off with the prince. It was no secret that Wyla and Eras had accompanied the group to the capital, but for all they knew, it could just have been for the honor due to the princes and princess.

  Nerie chided herself slightly. Other than the marriage proposal, Brantom had done nothing wrong. They still didn’t know why he had the dragon eggs, but he’d brought them here and given them to Situra.

  Soros was still worrying herself sick about them, but they were here safe on the hatching grounds. Nerie doubted that Soros would even let her or Soren close enough to see them now.

  Bringing her focus back to the present, she saw that the tables were being laden with food. It was mostly pastries and fruit at this time of day, and Nerie thought about eating, but her stomach gave a sour twist, so she made her way to the dais at the head of the roo
m which held three thrones. The center one was larger than the other two. Nerie took the right seat, as that was her traditional place as heir. Soren shortly followed, while Alaena had to be escorted away from directing the filing of the tables by Vizen. By the time Alaena was seated the hall was teeming with nobles and merchants, the upper echelon of Roria’s society.

  People chatted and moved about the room, all the while Nerie fidgeted in her seat, waiting for the Lutesian royals to appear. The sun, visible through the large southern facing windows, moved slowly across the sky. Only as it approached its zenith, did the herald announce Prince Brantom, Princess Marza, and Prince Niro.

  Nerie noted with slight disdain that the swords woman once again accompanied them and remained nameless.

  Brantom swept through the milling crowd as if every person he passed were his adoring fan. He bowed and waved jauntily, a large smile crossing his face. Nerie had to school her features into an impartial nothingness.

  She watched the quartet make their way slowly across the room and the only person she felt any connection with was the young princess.

  Closer in age to Aldis, Marza’s eyes were large as she took in the crowd in the room. She did not hesitate as she followed her brother, but something the way her eyes flickered from face to face let Nerie know she was nervous to be there.

  Reaching them, Brantom, and Niro bowed their heads to the sitting monarch, while Marza dipped into a slight curtsy. The swords woman also bowed, but her eyes were rapidly darting around the room, looking for any threat to her wards.

  “We are so glad that you are able to join us today Sirs -,” Soren had stood and was looking down on them, “Good lady. I do hope you enjoy your visit here. We have many fertile lands to show you and Guildhalls that are the wonder of the known world, waiting for you to grace them with your presence.”

  He sat once again, and Brantom stepped forward, smiling, “Of course, Your Majesty. We will be here for the extended future and will have days aplenty to visit wherever you think we might like to see.”

  Brantom chuckled before continuing, “We set off on our expedition when we heard that your heir had been chosen. My father, King Oron, so hopes that our countries might unite under one banner, one people. As I mentioned briefly last night, he wants nothing more than a political alliance between our people, secured through marriage and eventually blood.”

  Nerie felt the blood leave her face. She couldn’t believe Brantom had brought the subject up in such a public place. With all the discussion of the eggs and the fact the dragons couldn’t hear the Lutesians, the marriage proposal had fallen to the back of her mind.

  It took all her willpower to not look over at Soren to see if he was going to respond.

  Before Soren or anyone else could say anything, Brantom continued, “We of Lutesia know how revered the dragon kind are in your land, and as such have brought three dragon eggs, months away from hatching, as a bride price for the princess’s hand in marriage.”

  With that announcement, the people gathered started to whisper and mumble, and Nerie could hear wisps of conversation.

  “Dragon eggs!”

  “But Soros and Eras are the last two breeding dragons…”

  “I thought only those chosen by dragon were worthy of ruling.”

  “They could be the salvation of dragon kind!”

  She had known that the eggs were nothing more than a bartering chip to Brantom. But by announcing them in front of everyone even remotely important in the capital, he was guaranteeing that he and his proposal would be all that was talked about for the foreseeable future.

  Soren stood, pulling Nerie from her thoughts, and her face paled. Was he going to accept the offer without even asking her? He was the king, but still - this was her life and her future.

  “Prince Brantom. That is quite the bride price you have brought. However, our two nations have held animosity towards one another for several lifetimes. Something not easily forgotten, even with the future of dragon kind presented before us. You’ll beg our pardon if we take some time to think this over?” Soren gave Brantom his winningest smile.

  “Of course, your highness. Like I said, we are in no hurry,” Brantom chuckled again. "In the meantime, I'm looking forward to getting to know Princess Nerie."

  Brantom smiled endearingly at Nerie. The expression didn't quite reach his eyes - and his stare lingered on her for a heartbeat too long. He stepped back, bowing exaggeratedly low to her before turning and walking away.

  Had she been standing, Nerie’s knees would have been shaking. As it were, she chose to continue to sit for much longer than she normally would have. She watched Brantom make his way across the room, meeting people, talking - laughing - as if he belonged.

  It made her stomach turn it knots.

  ***

  The moment he started talking to Astra that she rammed herself to her feet, made a hasty goodbye and left the room. The gown she was wearing was constricting, and even as she tried to draw a deeper breath, she felt the boning of the dress cut deep into her skin.

  She made it to her room, ripping the dress in her haste to get it off. Karina was there, trying to help, but in her panic, Nerie batted the woman’s hands away. She dug through her closet, found her riding gear, and got dressed. A short command to Karina and the woman was out the door to have someone put the riding straps and saddle on Kiriga.

  Then she was running, tearing through the hallways to reach the king’s quarters and her dragon. Bursting out into the courtyard, she saw Eras and Mazen sunning themselves on opposing corners of the rooftop. Ilex was in his normal spot in the center of the courtyard, and there were Wyla and Riya laying nose to tail in a tight circle. Kiriga was standing close to the door, shifting from foot to foot as she waited for her rider.

  She scaled the dragoness before Kiriga could bend down for her rider, haphazardly strapping herself in.

  Fly, she screamed into Kiriga’s mind, and the dragon obeyed, launching herself into the sky.

  Kiriga winged herself higher and higher until the palace was nothing more than a speck below them.

  As she did aerial cartwheels, Nerie felt herself battle with relaxing and the growing anxiety the mere thought of marriage to Brantom brought her.

  Nerie, Kiriga said softly. Maybe, you should consider it. We don’t know if those are the last eggs in existence. And the Lutesians gave them to us. Even if they hatch a year from now, they aren’t that much younger than me. At least one of them must be a male… and even if they’re not Mazen, Ilex, and Tiryn could mate with them.

  What… How. How could you ask me to do that Kiriga? Nerie demanded. You share my very soul Kiriga.

  Nerie was sick.

  The one person who could possibly understand how repulsive she found Brantom - asking her to consider marrying him.

  Nerie! It’s the fate of dragon kind! Kiriga said, distressed.

  Land. Now.

  Nerie was reaching for the straps, still wing lengths above the palace.

  You might live forever, but I only have this one lifetime. I will not attach myself to someone like him.

  She jumped from Kiriga’s back, landing roughly on the stone. As soon as she could, she stood, and ran out of the courtyard. The great glowing eyes of all the dragons followed her as she stalked back into the palace.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  Brantom

  As the door swung shut behind him, Brantom threw himself into one of the plush couches that littered the room. Marza and Niro had already returned to their quarters, having left well before he’d finished talking with the crowd.

  Well before he’d gotten to speak with the lovely Princess Astra.

  Brantom sighed, disappointed that the lizards hadn’t chosen Astra as heir. She was much more pleasing to the eye than the red-headed girl. More than one of the pathetic nobles clambering for his attention had made sure to mention that Princess Nerie was somewhat of a mystery: having appeared the day of the youngest lizard’s hatching - and sud
denly being declared not only the king’s bastard, but his heir.

  What a fucking backwater country. Listening to the judgment of some scaled beasts on who was fit to rule. Accepting, at face value that just because the king had slept with some woman, and that the dragons had chosen the girl, that she must be the king’s daughter.

  And that she had more right to rule the country than the woman who’d been born and raised in the palace with every expectation of taking the throne.

  He shook his head, unable to fathom the whole situation.

  But it was what it was. Princess Nerie was to be queen, thus he would wed her. Even if she was the less appealing of the two.

  If anything, she would be malleable. He could help her rule the country and - if he could win her over - do most of the work himself. The goal after all was to expand the Lutesian borders without violence.

  Brantom groaned as he stretched, trying to make himself more comfortable on the couch. He idly kicked off his boots, each landing on the floor with a soft thwack.

  The rooms they’d been provided were lavish and well kept - but they weren’t home. There was a slight sour note to the air, an incense the Siturans used frequently, that caused his head to lightly throb. The silks throughout the palace were luscious and soft but caught easily on the thicker wool of Lutesian clothing.

  That was another thing that annoyed Brantom. While it was midwinter both here and in Lutesia, the weather was much milder, and all the clothes that they’d brought were too heavy. It left him needing to bathe twice daily just to feel like the salt from his sweat was off his skin.

  “What took you so long?” Niro asked, as he walked into the shared common space between their bedrooms.

  Brantom cracked an eye open to look over at his uncle. The man had insisted he come, and multiple times throughout the trip had tried to act as a chaperon. It made Brantom grind his teeth in annoyance. He was crown prince and as such, every person on this journey should look to him for guidance and their daily responsibilities. More than once, however, plans had spoiled, and issues arisen from him and Niro giving conflicting instructions. Other than the dragons, that had been the main cause of their slow progression from Cian to Roria.