by Serena Rose
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Life continued. Alaia’s family returned home the day after the wedding. The children were a delight to all that knew them, and the numbers of troops pledged to Zorion’s cause grew as they approached the capital.
Still, Imanol had not acted. The army was taking pains to conceal itself, but it was hard to believe he had no idea it was approaching. Itzal suggested that Zorion start taking a few of his nightly flights over the city, to let a few people see him without getting close enough to shoot at. The rumor of a dragon flying around would surely keep the king occupied. It sounded like a good idea to Zorion, but it did not find favor with his wife.
“I don’t agree. Deliberately provoking the king is an insanely reckless plan,” she said, scowling at both him and Itzal when the spymaster brought up the subject.
“It’s no more dangerous than anything else we’ve been doing,” Itzal countered, crossing his arms over his chest. “There’s no way the archers on the walls can take down a dragon. As long as he stays away from the ballistae, it’ll be nothing but a slightly less scenic flight than usual.”
“But if something does happen, we’ll have no way of knowing until hours later,” she protested. Not that this wasn’t true any time he left the house. Zorion was well aware he could just as easily be run over by a cart horse the moment he stepped into the street.
“I guarantee that if an angry dragon crashes anywhere near the city, we’ll hear it,” Itzal said dryly. “We’ll be lucky if he doesn’t set the whole place on fire, thereby ending all our problems at once.”
Zorion glared at him. That wasn’t helpful. He took Alaia’s hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles soothingly. “I’ll be closer to home, so I won’t be out as late. I swear to be careful.”
She sighed. “I know you think I’m being ridiculous. I hate this constant tension, waiting every moment for something to explode. I know you want to avoid a civil war, but at this point I would almost prefer the predictability of open conflict.”
“It’s too bad you can’t come with me,” he said, brushing a curl from her cheek. “Flying is good for relieving stress.” Other things too, but this was hardly the time to discuss that.
“There’s an idea,” Itzal said with a grin. “You could ride him into battle like a warrior princess.” Alaia blanched and shook her head.
“I think I’ll stay on the ground, thank you,” she muttered sourly. But that night, she followed him up to the roof, hugging herself though the night was warm. “Are you sure the house can hold a dragon?”
“We tested it. I know the place looks like it’s falling down, but it’s stronger than it looks,” he assured her. He let his robe slip over his shoulders, and shook out his limbs. Alaia pressed herself against his back, cool against his flame-touched skin.
“You’d better come back,” she said into his shoulder. He reached up and squeezed her fingers.
“I always do,” he said. “How could I not, knowing you’ll be here waiting?” He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed them before letting them drop. “Now stand over there. If I knock you off the roof, I’ll never forgive myself.” She moved to the other side of the dome of glass above their bedroom, and he sighed out a breath.
It was second nature now, calling on the fire that lived in his blood, and he didn’t even cry out at the brief moment of agony caused by his bones lengthening and the scales sprouting from his skin. The roof creaked, but it held. He turned his head to check on Alaia, and she moved carefully over to him, running her hands over the scales on his neck.
“One of these days I’m going to see you like this during the day,” she said, resting her hand on his cheek.
I didn’t know you were feeling deprived. After this is all over, we won’t have to hide anymore. She sighed. He knew the future was difficult to see. He had his own moments of doubt, and he’d been planning this for years. Finding Alaia and having the triplets hadn’t disarranged his life as much as he might’ve expected, and it was all only for the better, in his opinion. You’re sure you don’t want a ride? he teased.
“Very,” she said, slapping his shoulder. He heard it more than he felt it. “Go on. Scare the poor guards. Set fire to Imanol’s banners or something.”
He snorted and rings of smoke rose from his nostrils. Maybe later. After all, I don’t want him to know it’s me right away. I like to imagine him shaking in his royal slippers wondering if he’s about to eaten. Alaia shook her head.
“Just be careful. I’ll be waiting for you.” He climbed down the back of the house with his wings tight against his back. There were claw marks in the bricks now; he’d seen them in the daylight, but considering the state of the rest of the outside, it was hardly notable.
He moved out about a hundred yards and unfurled his wings, wishing, not for the first time, that he had a convenient cliff to fall off of. Flapping a few times to loosen the joints, he spread them wide and made a running leap into the sky. When he soared over the house a few minutes later, he saw his wife’s upturned face bidding him farewell.
He returned home two hours later, tired but pleased with the results of his efforts. No doubt the whole city would be talking about the mysterious dragon flying around the walls. Flapping backward until he was nearly hovering, he landed lightly on the roof and began the transformation as soon as his feet were securely on the ground.
It was still exhausting, and he stayed on his hands and knees for a minute or so, panting. Finally, he was recovered enough to look for his robe, and that’s when he got a surprise. It was on the other side of the dome from where he’d left it, wrapped around Alaia’s still form. He felt a thrill of fear as he darted forward, but she was only asleep.
She stirred as he gathered her in his arms and stood. “What are you doing out here, love? You should be in bed.”
“I was waiting for you,” she said, yawning. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. But it’s a warm night.”
“It is that,” he agreed, somewhat reluctantly. As much as he appreciated her worry on his behalf, he didn’t want to encourage her sleeping on the roof. “But now that I’m home safe, can we go in to bed?”
“Yes please,” she said, giving him a smile that felt like a blessing of the gods. So, as tired as he was, he carried her down the stairs and loved her quite thoroughly before he fell asleep.
CHAPTER NINE
Two weeks after the wedding, a Royal courier arrived at the house, in the graveyard. Alaia and Lorea received him in the front parlor, and with what seemed an excessive amount of bowing and empty compliments, he passed over a roll of crisp parchment, tied with a bow of crimson silk and sealed with wax embellished with gold leaf.
Zorion and Itzal were already at court, so it seemed strange to Alaia that whatever this message contained, it hadn’t been delivered to them personally. She regarded it like it was a snake that might bite her.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Lorea asked once the courier had been shown out the door.
“I’d rather wait for Zorion, or better yet, Itzal, to look at it,” Alaia replied. “Considering it’s from the king, I wouldn’t put it past him to poison the paper.”
“You can’t poison paper,” Lorea said. “At least, I don’t think you can. Let me open it then. I’m positively dying to know what King Greedyguts himself has invited us to. It could be important.”
“If something happens to you, I’m going to tell your brother it’s all your fault,” Alaia said, handing over the parchment with a sigh. She was curious too, but her one meeting with Imanol had been enough to convince her to avoid him and anything associated with him at all costs.
Lorea untied the ribbon and cracked the seal. “What a waste of money,” she grumbled as she unrolled the parchment. “Well, he’s not cordially inviting us to our own execution, so it’s not as bad as I thought. It’s an invitation to the Sunlight Gala. I’d nearly forgotten that there’s always a ball on the first day of summer. I don’t think we’ve ever been
invited before. Or maybe we have, and Zorion has been throwing the invitations in the fire.”
“That sounds like him,” Alaia said with a smile. “I’m sure it’s painful to go back to the palace.”
Lorea nodded. “For him, more for than me. I mean, it’s not as if I don’t remember living there, but I was only nine, so most of my memories are of lessons and things like that. Our mother died giving birth to me, and our father was busy ruling the kingdom. He did his best, but he didn’t really have time to coddle a little girl.
It’s good that Zorion’s the oldest. I think if I had been the heir, I would have taken the out that Imanol gave him, and retired to somewhere warm with all my money and never worried about anything again.”
“I’m sure that isn’t true,” Alaia said. “You wouldn’t want to see the people suffer any more than he does.”
Lorea shrugged. “I don’t think I would have even considered it.” The rest of the day was spent caring for the children and writing reams of thank you letters for all the wedding gifts. They had only invited fifty guests, for reasons of money and space, but that didn’t mean that others in the kingdom didn’t send gifts anyway, once they heard the news.
Plus, the news of the triplets had spread through the capital like wildfire, and the children were collecting their own pile of presents. Itzal and his lieutenants would have to examine everything before it was used.
Zorion and Itzal arrived just as the rest of the house was sitting down to dinner, not a formal meal, but a friendly and casual affair in the kitchen with Maude and Galena. Sometimes Markel was there, or the butler, Alain, or any of the few other members of the mansion’s staff.
Lorea had told Alaia that, considering the size of the house and the presence of the Crown Prince and his entire family, the number of servants here was unusually small, but Alaia preferred it that way. It was almost like a family.
The children were passed from lap to lap, and they were just getting old enough to be interested in what other people were eating. Maude showed Alaia how to make the ground rice porridge and mashed fruit and veggies that she had used to start Zorion and Lorea on solid foods. Although she agreed with the village wisdom that it was best to breastfeed until the babies were walking, at least, she also found that they were less picky about eating later if they were exposed to different foods early.
Alaia was not inclined to disagree. Breastfeeding had been a soothing ritual when they were newborns, but now the triplets had a tendency to pinch, and she shuddered to think what would happen when they had a few teeth.
When Zorion walked in, Markel was trying to convince Izar to eat some mashed turnip, but she smacked the spoon with a peal of gurgled laughter, and the food flew across the room, nearly hitting her father in the face.
“I feel as if I’ve stepped onto the battlefield,” he said, wiping turnip from his shoulder and picking up the spoon from the floor. Alaia rose to her feet and kissed his cheek. When he left every morning, she couldn’t help worrying that it would be the last time they saw each other.
“How was court?” she asked. He waved off Maude’s attempts to serve him and started filling his own plate.
“No assassination attempts today,” Itzal said with a grin. “None all week, in fact. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Imanol is going soft. He’s not getting any younger after all. The chance of him producing an heir of his own grows fainter and fainter.”
“I think he’s just running out of assassins. And the money to hire them,” Zorion said. Lorea scooted over on the bench to give him room to sit down next to Alaia. She was holding Zuzen in her lap, and he greeted his father with a gummy smile while continuing to bang his spoon on the table.
“We had our own bit of excitement today,” Lorea said, giving Alaia a prodding look.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” she said. She’d be worrying and wondering over it all day long, but the chaos of dinner had completely erased it from her mind. “The Royal courier delivered an invitation to the Sunlight Gala.”
Zorion pursed his lips. “Tempted as I am to pretend I never received it, this could be an opportunity for us. The troops should be close to the city by that time.”
“I see what you’re thinking,” Itzal said with a mischievous grin. “With all the fuss surrounding the gala, we might be able to sneak a bunch of troops into the city proper, maybe even into the noble’s quarter, without the king suspecting a thing.”
“Aren’t you concerned that it might be a trap?” Alaia asked. “If the king has never bothered to invite you before, why would he do so now, unless it was going to benefit him?”
“You’re absolutely right about that,” agreed Itzal. “But he’s not nearly as clever as he thinks he is. The Gala is an extremely public venue, and we have over a month to prepare. I’ll make sure everything is safe. You’ll have plenty of other things to worry about. Dance lessons, for one.”
Alaia sighed. “I suppose there’s no getting around it. But who’s going to do the teaching?”
“We all will,” Lorea said. “I think between Zorion, Itzal and I, we have enough experience so you won’t embarrass yourself. I think Maude and Alain can dance a bit too.”
Of all the things she had to learn in the process of marrying Zorion, this seemed the least objectionable. So, it was decided that they would practice dancing for a few hours every evening, and Itzal and Zorion would make a special effort to be home early enough to participate. Meanwhile, Maude would find a local seamstress to make Zorion and Alaia new clothes for the ball.
This was, in many ways, their debut as a couple, and a chance for the nobles who weren’t already backing Zorion to see the contrast between Imanol and those who planned to replace him. Unfortunate though it was, having the support of the nobility often didn’t depend on whether or not you were a better ruler. This was probably their only chance to capture the hearts of the people who were primarily impressed by appearances.
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The house didn’t have a ballroom, for obvious reasons, but since they usually had dinner in the kitchen, the great hall would do nicely. When Alaia came down with Lorea and Maude, Galena, Maite and the triplets in tow, she found Itzal already there, speaking to Markel and Alain in the corner. He turned and grinned at the ladies as they entered. “Zorion will be along in a moment. He just wanted to change clothes.” Alaia’s brow furrowed briefly; she must have just missed him. But no sooner had she registered this disappointment than his arms snaked around her waist from behind, and she felt a kiss on the back of her neck.
She reached a hand up to brush his cheek. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get away from court.”
“How could I miss a chance to spend the evening dancing with my beautiful wife?” he asked, smiling against her neck. “Besides, Imanol is in a foul mood lately, which I hope has something to do with me, so he hasn’t been forcing the nobles to dance attendance on him quite so late.”
Itzal rapped his knuckles on the mantel to get everyone’s attention. “So, the first dance we’ll be doing is the waltz, the basis for most of the dances currently popular at court. It’s a simple three-step maneuver, to the beat of three. I thought we’d do a demonstration first, if you’d be so kind as to join me, Lorea.”
Zorion’s sister smiled. “I don’t mind at all,” she said, but Alaia could see a flash of color on her cheeks and wondered, did Lorea have feelings for her brother’s best friend? It was something to ask about later. They clasped hands, her right in his left, and Lorea rested her left hand on Itzal’s shoulder while he placed his right hand on her waist.
“Gentlemen, if you would give us a song?” Itzal said, and Markel and his men picked up some instruments—a reed pipe, a fiddle, and a skin drum—and began to play a slow, almost mournful tune. Alaia knew it was nothing like the music they would hear in the palace, but Itzal and Lorea danced quite gracefully to it, nonetheless.
It did look fairly simple, at least to start out with, but it was obvious t
hat they had both been doing this for years as they started to add spins and flourishes without even having to speak. By the end of the song, they both looked out of breath, but everyone was clapping.
“That was unfair, Itzal. You set too high a standard, and now I’m going to look clumsy in front of Alaia,” Zorion said, but he was grinning.
“Considering everything you’ve put her through, and she still consented to marry you, I don’t think a little clumsiness is going to put her off,” Itzal retorted. “But let’s not stand around. Since this is just a refresher course for everyone but Alaia, I think I will partner with her, and you all can switch off as you see fit.”
“Why can’t I dance with my wife?” Zorion complained. Alaia covered her mouth to hide her laughter.
“Because you won’t correct her form. You’ll just stare calf-eyed until she steps on your foot, and then you’ll blame yourself. You can dance with her after she learns to waltz,” Itzal said, and not even Zorion could argue with that truth.
He grumbled, but in the end, he agreed to dance with his sister. Alaia took her place with Itzal, her main fear being that she would be so far behind what the spymaster was used to that he would become frustrated. But the first thing he did was show her the steps again, without music, walking her through each one slowly, and then gaining speed as she grew more confident.
“Now, I think we’re ready for the music again,” Itzal said. Markel and the others started to play, and Alaia heard one of the children laugh in response. The dance started off well; Alaia felt like she was getting the hang of things.
“Ouch, Lorea. That was my foot,” Zorion said from behind her.
“I know,” his sister replied. “I did it on purpose. Pay attention to your feet, instead of Alaia, nitwit.” Alaia smiled, but the second she started paying attention to her own feet, she tripped.
“Sorry, Itzal,” she mumbled, and he shrugged. But it seemed to keep happening, and even if he wasn’t frustrated, Alaia was certainly getting there.
