by Terah Edun
Lillian obediently turned away from her view of the door that was her escape through the back corridors into the private wing of the imperial family. She still hadn’t seen the empress after all and nearly an hour had passed since her time in the salon with Matthew. Lillian was growing impatient but she turned her practiced eyes on the courtiers standing around.
It wasn't that she hadn't seen who was here before, it was just that no matter who came and went the court always stayed the same. Staid.
Nothing to see. Nothing to do, she thought with alacrity.
However, this time she was very much mistaken.
She noted that her Uncle was right. He may have been a scholarly-type without an ounce of fun in him, but he kept his eye on court mechanics like his life depended on it. And in a way it did. As an advisor to the emperor, her Uncle's task mostly lay in keeping an eye on bored nobility like herself and keeping everyone, from the musicians to the imperial armed forces, in check.
Unfortunately the latter purview of her Uncle took more work than one would think. A bored military was a dangerous one and there were dozens of garrisons of such armed men strewn throughout the empire. Ready and idle. After all, it wasn't like Algardis had been in any wars lately-skirmishes of forest land didn't really count, and aside from the rather unfortunate end of the former empress years ago, hadn't seen much turmoil either.
It didn’t take Lillian long to notice the eddy in the current that made up the machinations of the imperial court powers-that-be. The most powerful were either surrounding a central figure standing near enough to touch the empty ceremonial throne or were making their way towards that person as surreptitiously as they could.
She couldn’t see who that person was, but for him or her to have such an effect on the jaded nobility boded for an interesting night.
“Who is it?” she asked in a calm voice, her eyes studying the reactions of each noble who came in contact with the mysterious stranger.
“That is a dragon.” said her uncle softly.
“A dragon?” Lillian scoffed.
Her uncle clucked his tongue. “I shouldn’t have to repeat myself, especially to you.”
“Are you sure?” Lillian said with faint distaste. She had just gotten a good look at her uncle’s dragon.
The man was shorter than the butler currently hovering over him with a serving tray, had a balding head, and what looked like the most horrible case of buck teeth she had ever seen at court.
That was no dragon.
Dragons were supposedly the most beautiful, refined, and elegant creatures to grace the courts of either empire. Not that lump.
Her uncle sucked his teeth in disgust.
“No,” he snapped. “I’ve taught you better. That is the dragon’s bodyman. Look at the man sitting on the steps of the throne itself.”
And so Lillian did and her heart nearly stopped in her chest.
He was beautiful.
But his features, like a stone carving from the imperial gardens come to life, were not why she froze.
That dragon had his paws on her man.
Eyes wide, Lillian saw her musician not just serenading the dragon with his music, deft fingers flying over a lute in hand, but also sitting on the dragon’s lap.
Not only that; the musician, Matthew, seemed quite happy to be there. Animatedly he played his music and let the dragon stroke his back without a care in the world. While the entire court watched.
The same court that would have undoubtedly heard that he had soundly rejected her advances just few hours before when the sun was up and the day had felt absurdly long.
Lillian was furious.
She wasn’t good enough for the minstrel but the creature from across the waters was? Lillian was no fool. Dragons were beautiful and graceful, but she was Lillian Weathervane. There was no arrogance in suggesting that she was the pre-eminent catch of the courts. That is…until now.
Forget small revenge, Lillian fumed. I’ll scratch his eyes out. I’ll scratch both of their eyes from their cavities.
Fortunately before she could make good on that threatening thought, her Uncle interceded. “Niece,” he said urgently. “I know that look in your eye. That look has a sense of urgency. A need for power. Harness that power, it has helped your family rise in the past.”
It wasn’t necessarily her Uncle’s avarice that broke the furious thoughts that had taken hold of Lillian’s mind. It was his thirst for power and the knowledge that he expected her, as always, to act in ways that benefited the family as well as herself.
Composure was expected.
Decorum was expected.
At the very least, a lack of bloodshed on the palace floors was expected.
So she smoothed her face and adjusted her bodice.
“I think it’s time I introduced myself to the newest guest at court,” Lillian purred. If her eyes didn’t match the warmth in her voice, well her Uncle didn’t necessarily expect miracles.
He let her go and she sashayed her way across the palace floor.
Before she’d even proceeded halfway though, an imperial chamberlain began knocking his very large ceremonial staff against the marble floors.
The sound was enough to get the swift attention of all those gathered.
Even the musician and his dragon.
They stood as smoothly as two choreographed dancers and Lillian barely held back a snarl as she smoothly about-faced with a rush of her skirts and faced the doorway.
The knock of the ceremonial staff against the marble floor meant only one thing.
The Emperor of Algardis was on his way. Everyone was expected to be silent as they awaited his glorious arrival.
She couldn’t help the tic in her eye as she tried to sneak a glance of her musician and her rival again but she noticed, with some relief, that the dragon was already walking away. At least far enough away that he wasn’t touching Matthew anymore. That relief was short-lived however.
The doorway to the inner imperial chambers swung open and out strode the emperor in a long, opulent robe and the empress tottering along behind him in fast heels.
As one the court dipped into deep bows and curtsies, Lillian among them.
When she rose the emperor was already pulling up the dragon envoy in a stiff embrace.
She held her breath as she too waited for what the legendary being would do.
Apparently used to human customs, the dragon accepted the emperor’s touch with equal somberness and leaned forward to whisper a small something in Emperor Bastien’s ear.
Whatever he said was too low for Lillian to catch but it caused the emperor to laugh loudly and slap the dragon on his back in a much more familiar gesture.
The dragon, a smirk on his face, stepped back and gave the empress a very salacious bow as he did.
The empress simpered and blushed as Lillian expected her to and swept up to her throne a step below her husband.
As they sat the dragon stepped to the side of the dark amber carpet that ran parallel to the steps leading up to the throne. He casually looped an arm around the musician’s neck, claiming him for all the court to see, and kissed him with a bit too much ardor on the cheek closest to him.
Lillian couldn’t believe it.
She didn’t understand how this envoy could swoop in and take everything from her in one step. She’d been silently pursuing the musician for weeks and not once had he ever been inclined to show a preference for only men. In fact, she had caught him and a certain harpist exchanging far more tongue than even Lillian expected to see in public viewing.
So it was clear to her and to everyone else, that it was just her that he did not prefer.
This means war, Lillian thought with such fury in her mind that if she had the slightest inclination to pyrokinesis the entire court would have been in flames.
The emperor, apparently mimicking her thoughts, said aloud “For too long we were at war with the dragons of the Sahalian Empire. Now one of their own kind has come amongst u
s from across the sea in a journey that has not been made in terms of peace for decades. It makes one wonder why.”
Lillian blinked and stiffened. This didn’t sound good. It sounded serious.
Her dismay this time was quite real. The courts were supposed to be fun. War and politics were not fun.
“I know why,” continued the emperor with firm enunciation, “It is to finally re-unite our peoples, a task that has gone undone for far too long.”
Fierce whispers started up from the back of the audience chamber and quickly swept through to the front. This was a subject that was tantamount to verboten in court life. The wars between Sahalia and Algardis, proxy and direct, had been the worst in Algardis history. They were not easily forgotten and to suggest consortium with one of the beasts, an alliance even, would have easily gotten another courtier hanged.
But this was the emperor speaking and his word was law.
Lillian strained to hear the emperor over the furious uproar that had erupted just minutes before. He was now surrounded by very anxious advisors who pushed and shoved to get close to him on the throne.
While the center of all this uproar, the dragon envoy himself, continued to stand at the foot of the stairway to the throne with a self-satisfied look on his face and fingers that were flying over the musician’s torso with decorous attention.
Before too long she heard the banging of the ceremonial staff on the floor again and the loud command of “Silence!” rang out.
The murmurs and whispers and conversations died out.
The emperor stood up from his throne and pushed through his coterie of nervous advisors. Like headless chickens the lot of them, Lillian thought.
It was clear the emperor hadn’t bothered to announce his plans to them before he took it to the entire court. She wondered if they had even known the dragon was coming.
When Lillian stole a look at the empress’s nervous face, she got the feeling that even she who shared the man’s bed—mostly—hadn’t known either.
Bastien’s got guts, Lillian thought with boredom as she twitched her fingers and wondered where this was going.
Emperor Bastien stood alone, his face determined as he said, “This will happen. This reunification will begin now. Tonight.”
One of the bolder barons came forward and asked in a booming, sarcastic voice, “And how do you propose we start to get along with our fey brethren? By dancing with them?”
A smile crossed the emperor’s face. “Not a bad idea, Baron.”
The emperor turned to his shell-shocked advisors and said, “A ball in the dragon envoy’s honor. Tonight.”
They went from furious and shocked to aghast.
The man who held the purse strings for the entire empire, the imperial banker, rushed forward and immediately proclaimed in a whiny voice, “Improbable, Sire. We need to plan —“
The emperor held up a single finger. The man stuttered to a stop. Then Bastien said, “But not impossible. Make it so.” Without another word the emperor turned away and looked to the envoy, “The court is yours until we reconvene tonight.”
Lillian heard someone gasp as someone else said in a rushed tone, “That’s only a few hours from now!”
The emperor didn’t pause at the exclamation. Lillian wasn’t even sure he’d heard it. That was alright. It hadn’t been for him. It’d been for every other socialite within hearing distance who wondered if they could pull an outfit out of their closet as fast as a street mage pulled a rabbit out of a hat.
She watched as with the empress on his arm, the emperor descended the dais and swept out of the room. The entire court lit up in shouts as soon as the massive doors closed behind them.
Only Lillian was silent.
Only Lillian was smiling from ear-to-ear.
The courts had just become a lot less boring.
It was a few fast hours later and she was dressed in her best dancing attire. Emeralds adorned her ears and her hair was swept up in a frenzy of romantic curls. She had rouge on her face and a twinkle in her eye.
She was going to be the talk of the city. Not just for her elaborate dress that she’d been saving for just such a special occasion they would whisper, but because she also hadn’t forgotten about her musician and that interloper dragon and she intended to do something about it.
Lillian danced with partner after partner for as long as the night went on.
Her heels flashed across the floor, studded as they were in emeralds bright enough to match her earrings. As they caught the light of the sconces and chandeliers with each high kick, their owner caught the eyes of numerous courtiers as she whirled in the arms of her dance partners.
Some of those eyes were lascivious; some were envious.
None could take their eyes off her, which was just how Lillian liked it.
So when she finally stopped dancing to catch her breath and a refresher drink, she was startled to find that the star of the night was nowhere to be found.
She had a thing or two to say to the dragon envoy but she couldn’t do that if he were nowhere near.
She peered around but didn’t see him in any of the talking circles or dark corners of the ballroom. When Demetre sidled up to her, he knew just who she was looking for.
Which was what she liked about him. He knew her so well that it only took a look for him to read her body language. That made him her favorite. Well that and the fact that he was quick to change his plans if a more tempting opportunity came about. Hence his presence here at the ball instead of the aforementioned play.
“The musician?” the drunk, human imp slurred.
Lillian sniffed, a bit intoxicated herself but not that far gone, as she said, “Him and his partner of the night.”
Demetre shrugged with a loose arm around some dancing woman’s waist and pointed with his other hand at a side door that led off into the interiors of the palace.
“They went that way,” he said with a squeeze of his woman. She giggled.
Lillian ignored her and set off.
“Wait!” Demetre called out. “Where are you going?”
Lillian turned back with an imperious eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious?”
He stared at her and grumbled. “At least let me finish my drink.”
“Who said you’re going?” Lillian countered.
“There is no way I’m going to miss the imperious Lillian Weathervane get her butt handed to her,” Demetre said in a tone that indicated he was a lot less drunk than she had first thought.
Lillian huffed. “We’ll see about that.”
He snorted and off they went. When the dancing girl tried to follow, he swatted her on her bum and sent her away with, “Not you, dear. This conversation is for your betters.”
Lillian didn’t bother to turn around to see what she assumed was a characteristic pout on the woman’s face. She was focused on her mission.
As she exited the ballroom and some others fell in behind Demetre she began to feel a tad ridiculous. But she had started this little tete-a-tete; she would finish it.
It didn’t take much for them to find the trail of the dragon and his presumed lover. A servant was all too happy to point the drunk nobles to the other drunker nobles just to get them all out her hair.
When Lillian approached the private corner that the dragon had apparently chosen, what met her eyes wasn’t precisely how she had imagined this night going.
They all stopped in a stupor.
She alone walked forward across the empty, cool marble floor with moonlight shining down on her curls and delicate ribbon strewn hair.
There was only one other person in the large circular alcove big enough for fifteen or more people.
That person wasn’t awake though.
He sat on a bench next to the only other door out of the marble alcove. He was slumped forward in an awkward position, his clothes disheveled and his cravat undone. His body was posed with an unnatural stillness and she could barely see the mist of his breath floating in the air.
It wasn’t because it was cold. It was because the air from his lungs had taken on a very nasty green tinge. He also had the undertones of someone who was deeply ill. Quite the opposite of the lively and vivacious young man she had seen just hours before.
As she stared at the musician and the single line of drool drifting down his arched cheekbones, she wondered what could have happened to him.
Fearing what she would see if she looked even deeper, she let her magic tentatively swipe over his aura.
Lillian sucked in a sharp breath. He wasn’t just sick physically but magically.
“What happened to him?” Lillian asked the others behind her reflexively in a harsh tone. She didn’t really think the people following her like scared children had the answers. They were too caught up in their own fears. That she didn’t blame them for. It wasn’t often that you saw mage illness at court. And whatever had happened to him, his current state was most certainly the effect of a malady made of magic.
Demetre fluttered a distressed handkerchief at the door off the alcove.
“He went in there,” her friend said with a disturbed look.
Lillian gave him a sharp look, prepared to ask how the imp knew but then she remembered his ‘talent’. He saw things. Not so much memories, more like impressions. Demetre had always been able to tell what the last moments of a person were as long as he happened upon them and was in a mood to listen. It was how he’d always known who she’d been with last and how to tease her for maximum efficiency because of it.
But now he was not in a teasing mood. The imp looked almost as pale as poor Matthew, whose brown flesh had taken on a decidedly grey tinge, did and he seemed to be unwilling to say more as he rapidly pulled the handkerchief up and held it to his face as if to ward off a disease the musician had. A taint that even she could feel was in the air. Though she didn’t know what it meant precisely.
Lillian and her assorted followers shielding the musician from view of wandering individuals with their bodies, exchanged glances.
A girl in the group with short close-cropped red hair said to Lillian, “Well, you have been complaining you were bored.”
