by Adam Witcher
The Draconian family gathered in one of the bedchambers and awaited the feast. Their armor now retired to the servant’s quarters, they were clad in formal black and green robes. Eliza stood gazing into the wall mirror, studying her human appearance. Matteo, who sat on the bed, didn’t care to look at himself. Matthias paced back and forth between the bed and the wall, angry about something inconsequential, to which Matteo absentmindedly nodded in agreement.
“What a bungled greeting,” Matthias fumed. “On Draconis, we greet royalty with dignity.”
“Then why don’t you go back to Draconis, father?”
The three were getting used to speaking the local language easily, but it still felt unnatural to refer to one another by family names. The Council insisted upon it, though. The three had only met a few weeks earlier, and they’d hardly bonded. Matteo found his fake father to be dangerously inflammatory and arrogant, and his fake mother… She’d barely said a word to them, and when she did, it raised more questions than answers. Her insistence at bringing a palanquin rubbed him the wrong way. She must have fought the Council on it, because he couldn’t guess any other way they’d allow something so gaudy and useless. He suspected that the woman was prone to excessive vanity, but it would do no good to say so aloud. The Council chose them for reasons beyond their understanding, and who was he to question it?
This was an honorable mission. Each planet only got one landing party, and Matteo was ecstatic to be chosen. When later crews came to EP3092, or planet Androna as the locals called it, they would dominate the humans by way of his research, his designs, his plans. And he did mean his. It seemed an annoying irony that they’d made him the son of this happy little family. Though that did mean he would marry into a leadership position.
Matteo rolled his eyes while Matthias continued his tirade. He wished the council would have assigned more distinct human names to them. They came from entirely different continents on Draconis, so their true names couldn’t sound more different. But apparently, the father-son naming dynamic among humans was a sacred tradition.
“Complain all you want,” he said to his ‘father’. He had to get used to thinking that way. “But I don’t think you’ll win the family’s favor that way.”
“Favor.” Matthias spat the word out like bitter medicine. “I’ll win their favor when they’re hanging by their feet from the rafters and bleeding into my mouth.”
“Yes, yes, get it all out of your system now.” Matteo turned to the raging patriarch. “Just what is it that you’re so angry about anyway? Everything is going well so far.”
Matthias stopped pacing.
“These deception tactics...” Matthias stroked his beard. This was a new habit. Draconians didn’t grow facial hair. “I thought it would be more satisfying than this. It feels… cowardly.”
Matteo didn’t know much about Matthias’ past, but he guessed a military history.
“The council swears by it,” Matteo said. “We’ve seeded thirteen new planets in the last two years.”
Matthias grunted. “Have we forgotten the glory of war? Of facing the enemy head on and taking the land from under their feet?”
“We don’t do that anymore, father. It’s barbaric. These are the tactics of the future.”
“Control,” said Eliza quietly, still staring into the mirror.
Both men turned to her. This was the first thing she’d said since they’d arrived at the castle.
“What’s that?” Matteo asked.
“Control,” she said louder, finally turning from the mirror. “It’s about control. You can’t control someone if you kill them. This is the next stage of conquest. Consensual subjugation. They obey because they believe it to be in their best interest. Threaten a man with death and he will give you fear in the moment, but discreetly control the circumstances of a man’s life and you will have his fear as long as he lives.”
Neither false father nor son responded to this for a moment. They only looked at her while she twirled her silvery curls in the lamplight.
“Yes,” Matthias said, sighing. “Yes, I suppose that makes sense. There just isn’t much glory in it.”
A knock sounded at the door, startling Matthias and Matteo. Eliza didn’t flinch.
“Yes.” Matthias answered in the deepest voice he could muster.
An old servant with silver hair poked his head in.
“The feast will begin shortly,” the man said, his voice dry and raspy. “May I escort you to the dining chamber?”
“May we have just a moment please?” asked Matteo.
The man nodded and retreated, shutting the door behind him.
“Hope you’re ready for human food,” Matteo said, finally looking in the mirror to check his appearance. His jet-black hair was neatly coiffed, his chin showed no signs of stubble.
“They’d better have some meat,” Matthias said.
“I’m sure they will,” Matteo replied.
The Draconian king pulled a flask from the inside of his robe and took a long, deep pull. He offered it to Eliza, who took a sip. Matteo wasn’t offered any, but he would have turned it down anyway. He thought it best to get used to not drinking blood, at least for the time being. Humans found the stuff repulsive for some reason. They were missing out, but they would indulge soon, when they needed a few more acquiescent humans. The blood they’d drained from a wild boar on the way in had been exquisite. Matteo had little doubt that the guards were passing around a jug of the stuff in the servants’ quarters downstairs. Brutes. He was glad that their main job was to stand around and make the three of them look more important. Ordinary foot soldiers in the Draconian army were never given positions of real power.
Eliza drained the rest of the flask and tossed it to Matthias, who shook the last few dark red drops onto his tongue.
“Damn it, Eliza, that’s all I had left.” He threw down the flask. “This human food better be good.”
“Are we ready, then?” Matteo stood from the bed and smoothed his tunic.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Matthias said.
Mateo opened the door and Eliza stepped out. As Matthias walked toward the door, Matteo stopped him.
“Wipe your mouth, father. You look like you just devoured a peasant.”
Chapter Five
The old man led the Draconian family through heavy wooden doors into a candlelit dining hall with high, arched ceilings and a long table. King Gareth stood to greet them.
The servants scattered toward the kitchen, presumably to fetch the last pieces of the feast. The Draconians eyed the food curiously. If Petra didn’t know better, she’d have thought they were seeing these perfectly normal foods for the first time. The castle chefs had gone all out, much to Queen Orpha’s distaste. Petra had heard them arguing about it earlier that day. The king called it an investment. The queen called it a poor use of precious funds. If the goal was to impress the visitors, she wasn’t sure it was a success.
Despite her growling stomach, Petra lost her appetite. Something about the way these guests shook her father’s hand left a bitter taste on her tongue. They behaved as if this union was a great act of charity done out of pity for their ailing kingdom. She didn’t rise from her seat until her mother glared at her, and even then, only greeted them with a half-hearted smile and nod.
Once all were seated, silence hung over the table. King Gareth wasted no time filling his plate with smoked pheasant, green grapes, and an ear of roasted corn. Petra and her mother followed suit, but their guests didn’t move to fill their plates until the royal family was through. Though they added various fruits and vegetables to their plates, they only ate the meat.
Finally Petra broke the tension.
“Can you tell me of your home back east?” she asked, trying to disguise her distrust as a passing curiosity. “I’d never heard of your kingdom before your correspondences.”
“Our kingdom is in the swamplands,” Matteo replied. He pushed a white spear of asparagus across his plate with
a fork. “Concealed by miles of forest in all directions. There are entire cities built into the thick of it. We enjoy solitude. And there are many resources to be found there.”
Petra nodded politely. For a moment, she could have sworn that his eyes gleamed a deep yellow. When she looked again, they were dark brown.
“Excellent hunting,” Matthias said, directing the statement at King Gareth.
“Ah yes, the sacred tradition of a royal hunt,” Gareth smiled. “Perhaps us gentlemen can enjoy one of those together during your stay here. We have several top-notch forests stocked with the plumpest pheasants and deer you’ve ever seen. Sometimes wild boar even come around for a challenge. You’re eating one of the pheasants now, actually.”
“What do you hunt in the swamplands?” Petra said. She had never heard of swamplands to the east.
“There are many dangerous beasts in those swamps,” Matthias said, his voice tinged with a strange venom. “Things you couldn’t imagine in this region. Giant boars with massive tusks. Fat birds who walk on stilted legs. My personal favorite is the crocodile. A long, sharp-toothed reptile who hides beneath the surface of the water.”
Petra grimaced, then glanced at the disturbed faces of her parents. Matthias seemed to enjoy their reaction. With a satisfied grin, he stuffed a forkful of pheasant into his mouth and chewed it slowly. Matteo seemed bothered by the strange response. He glared at his father. She was at least grateful for that.
“One of these days, we’ll let the boys go on their hunt,” Orpha said, trying to connect with her Draconian counterpart. “Eliza, perhaps us girls can make a day of it, too. There are beautiful gardens outside the castle. Petra and I would love to show you.”
The Queen of Dracos stared blankly at Orpha for a moment, then contorted her face into a saccharine smile. The hollowness in her eyes disturbed Petra.
“I should find that quite agreeable,” Eliza said, letting her grin linger for an uncomfortable moment.
Orpha looked like she regretted the offer.
“So how about that magician today?” King Gareth blurted out. “Amazing stuff. Never seen anything like it. Did you see him?”
No doubt owing to the wine, the king was oblivious to the tension in the room. Normally this would annoy Petra, but now it was a welcome respite.
“A magician?” Matteo asked. “In the main square? Is that why the procession stopped?”
“Oh yes, I’m sorry that you missed it. It was truly incredible. A man cut a woman right in half. I wouldn’t believe it if I hadn’t seen it myself. Then he put her back together again, good as new.”
Petra rolled her eyes. She’d dismissed the ordeal as a parlor trick, some peasants trying to dazzle the naive king out of a handful of coins. But it worked. And she had to admit, she didn’t know how the trick had been performed. But of course it wasn’t magic. Magic was…
“Impossible,” Matteo said, “no man can cut someone in half and put them back together again. They’d die immediately.”
The king let out a booming belly laugh. “That’s what I said! You wouldn’t believe this man.”
“So how did he do it?” Matthias asked.
“Must have been real magic!” Gareth laughed. He seemed glad to have found a common interest, but Petra was put off by the exchange. She had to admit to herself that she was perhaps unfairly suspicious of everything these foreigners said, but their attitude had changed so quickly.
Gareth continued, “He’s coming tomorrow morning to audition for our court. If he does well, I expect that you’ll see quite a lot of him.”
“Perhaps you’ll let us join you,” Matthias said. “I’d like to see this real magic.”
The king was about to respond when Eliza interrupted.
“No, that won’t be necessary.” She glared at Matthias, who looked back in confusion. “We must ride out to our outpost tomorrow morning for some additional supplies. If this magician passes your test, we will see him at a later time.”
“Can’t you have your guards do that?” The king asked.
“Unfortunately not,” she said, this time staring at Gareth. “We will see him another time.”
Matteo and Matthias both stared at her.
The rest of the meal passed without incident. There was more awkward small talk, but everyone ate quickly, and no one seemed eager to stick around afterward. The royal guests didn’t eat much of their food. The two families said their goodbyes and separated. Petra was relieved to be alone.
The relief didn’t last long. Minutes after retiring to her bedchamber, she heard a knock at her door. She was surprised. Nobody visited her chambers, much less at this hour.
“Who is it?” she called, checking herself in the mirror.
“It’s Matteo,” a firm voice said.
Her stomach flipped. What could he possibly want? Does he know private, late night chats are unacceptable? She took a deep breath before cracking open the door. The prince leaned against the doorway. His face was halfway between a smirk and a smile.
“Can I help you with something, Matteo?” She tried not to betray her nervousness and irritation.
“Help me?” he said with a laugh, “God, no. I just wanted to say hello to you. You know, without our families surrounding us.”
“Oh,” she said, faking a giggle. “Well, hello then. It is rather late, though…”
“I won’t be long,” he said, sliding a foot across the threshold. “May I step inside?”
“I don’t think that would be appropriate, we’ve only just met.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean… I just…” The prince’s confidence was shaken, and he struggled to regain it. “Look, I know we’ve only just met. And obviously we are not in love. But I do want this to work, as painlessly as possible. So I’d like to get to know you. Not right this minute, of course. But maybe we can get acquainted alone sometime soon. In a public setting, if you prefer.”
Petra was taken aback. She felt he was being honest. Perhaps he was just putting up a front for his family before with all that creepy arrogance.
“I’d like that,” she said, meaning it. This betrothal was happening whether she wanted it or not. She might as well give him a chance. And perhaps she would come to like him. She felt herself relax a little.
“Good,” he said. “I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I suppose so.”
“Say,” she said as Matteo began to turn away, “why was your mother so insistent that you miss the magician’s performance? Is riding to your outpost so important?”
Matteo hesitated. “We don’t believe in that kind of thing.”
“Oh, come on. Maybe it’s all a ruse, but maybe there are things beyond our understanding, things we could call magic.”
“Of course not,” he said, his voice becoming stern again. “Clearly, someone is trying to take advantage of your father’s sense of wonder.”
“But a magic show would be the perfect opportunity to get to know each other, don’t you think? A little light-hearted distraction, all out in public?”
She was testing him. Though she had no explanation for the magician’s trick, she didn’t truly believe it was real magic. But there was something disturbing about Matteo’s repulsion of the subject. He hesitated before answering, as if carefully choosing his words.
“Look. Some of the older members of our house are very superstitious,” he replied. “They have a history of believing in the evils of dark magic. It is a point of contention between the old and the young. It didn’t seem prudent to break into an argument with my mother under the circumstances. Personally, I believe the man is probably a fraud. And should that prove to be the case, I will see to it myself that the issue is resolved. We are known for making examples of wrongdoers back in Dracos.”
Petra watched him closely as he said this. She couldn’t tell if he was being honest.
“I’m sure my father’s guard can handle…” Her voice shook a little as she said this, but Matteo cut her off.
&
nbsp; “It would be my pleasure to weed out the problems in your father’s kingdom,” he said.
He let his vicious gaze stay on Petra for several agonizing moments. Fear welled up in her. Maybe he really was as terrible as she first expected. He seemed to be a man with two personalities. The longer he stared, the more frightened she became, and the more he seemed to relish it. If she couldn’t blame it on paranoia, she might have guessed he was getting some sick pleasure from her discomfort. She desperately wanted to retreat, to shut the door on him. Finally, he stepped back.
“We’ll find another opportunity to get acquainted, without magic. Sweet dreams, your highness.”
“Good night, Matteo.”
Footsteps echoed through the corridor as she locked her door and returned to bed. The strange meeting left her with more questions and little comfort. The prince was clearly accustomed to manipulation. He’d made her trust him for a moment. And had it not been justified? The reaction to the magician was strange, but perhaps it truly was just a misguided attempt at building trust. Perhaps the royalty of Dracos would prove themselves to be worthy allies, but until then, she intended to keep them at arm’s length.
Chapter Six
The coins given to Anton were worth more than he’d expected. After the procession disappeared and the townspeople lost interest in their illusion, he turned to the blacksmith for clothing advice. The sweaty, bald man still didn’t seem to know what to make of them.
“Court clothing?” he said, wiping his brow. “Try Xander’s. Two blocks down that way.” He indicated the path. “Nothing to my liking there, but you should be able to find something fancy and frilly.”
