by J. D. Monroe
“You speak in circles,” she said. “Do you want to have sex with me?” As the question spilled over her lips, she realized that she didn’t know how she wanted him to answer.
“I do not,” he said.
She felt like he’d burned the air from her lungs. Forcing herself into a moment of stillness, she took a deep breath. Fire-forged steel control took over as she stood up. If her legs dared shake, she would cut them off. “Then I bid you good night, Zayir.” She carefully held her robe closed and stood up, tilting her head up so tears didn’t spill over her cheeks.
“Good night, Ohrena.”
As she left his room, she hoped her body language expressed her unflappability, rather than her utter humiliation. She made it four steps into her room before the hot spill of tears trickled down her cheeks. Zahila was lying across Ohrena’s bed on her belly, writing in a ledger as her feet kicked aimlessly. The knife lay a few feet from her, ready at a moment’s notice. Her head snapped up as Ohrena crossed the room. “What the hell? What did he do?”
Ohrena dabbed at her eyes. “He told me it was a business arrangement, nothing more.”
Zahila pointed to the knife. “Shall I?”
She couldn’t help laughing, even with tears rolling down her cheeks. “Not tonight.” Scrubbing at the tears with her sleeve, she leaned over Zahila’s shoulder. “What’s this?”
“A list of the guards I met at the feast. Kaldir is in charge. These seem to be the queen’s elite,” she said, underlining a neatly written list. Everything was written in Edra, as they had agreed. “These I haven’t placed yet.”
“Well, we’ve not even been here a full day,” she said. “Tell me what else you learned.”
For half an hour, Zahila wrote in her ledger and told her what she’d noticed since arriving in the palace. Her matter-of-fact recounting of the evening was soothing and distracting. While she detailed a list of people she’d noticed speaking directly to the queen, Ohrena got up to search for a nightgown. Most of her clothes were still in crates, as they’d arrived and immediately began preparations for the wedding.
“Let me help you,” Zahila said, scurrying toward her.
“I can dress myself,” Ohrena said mildly. She found a soft gown and pulled it over her head, then scurried across the cold stone floor to her bed. “You all don’t have to get me ready every single day.”
“That’s how the dragons do it,” Zahila said. She sat on the edge of the bed.
She shot a look back at her friend. “We are not dragons.”
Her friend’s lips curled up in a smile. “No, we are not. Do you need anything else?”
“Not tonight,” Ohrena said. “Go have fun.”
Zahila tucked her ledger onto a shelf between several of Ohrena’s books. Then she stepped out to the balcony. “I will,” she said. In a flurry of movement, her form suddenly disappeared, and her clothes fell to the ground. A crow appeared from the mound of silk, its black wings fluttering quietly as it rose against the night sky.
Though Ohrena was not the head of her house, she had followed the tradition of most Edra clan leaders by gathering a small group of spies, nicknamed the Flock. Her father had his own Flock back in Val Legarra. Huge predators like wolves and panthers had their place as soldiers and protectors. Smaller creatures like songbirds and mice had no place in combat, but they were far from useless.
Perched on windowsills and rafters, Zahila had eavesdropped on thousands of conversations without being noticed. She saw everything and no one ever knew she was there. Inrada and Pamin were similarly gifted and kept her apprised of a great deal more than anyone knew. Information was power, and while she had no intention of hurting the queen or her family, she was no fool. The time might come when her information would be more than amusement.
Ohrena al-Katiri greatly wished to please the prince. But she had not come to Ironhold to be a passive plaything for an amorous prince. She had come to study and learn all that she could, both through her own pursuits and the exploits of her Flock. And if the prince had no use for her other than maintaining appearances, then she had more time for her own work.
But even with the promise of information, she still felt the stinging rejection anew, staring up at the stone ceiling. She supposed she should be happy that the prince hadn’t been unkind or rough with her. But she hadn’t even entertained the notion that he would reject her outright. She was shocked at how much it bothered her.
Was this to be her life?
A quiet knock broke Ohrena’s slumber. She grumbled and dug deeper under the heavy covers. The bedroom was freezing. The bittersweet smell of tea from home wafted to her on the cold breeze. Ohrena peeked through sleep-heavy eyes at Inrada, who was looming over her with a cup in her hand. “Your father wishes to see you before he leaves.”
Ohrena sat bolt upright. She knew he would leave soon after the wedding but hadn’t realized it would be so soon. She slid out of bed and instantly winced at the cold stone beneath her bare feet.
“What can I do to help you?” Inrada asked. She was dressed in a dark blue coat and trousers in the fashion of Firlanyn, her red hair pulled into a tight bun.
“I just need a quick bath,” Ohrena said. Inrada followed her into the shared bath. A square stone platform was raised in the middle of the room, with an oval tub carved into it. It was big enough for two, as Inrada had pointed out with a lascivious grin yesterday. Large brass braziers stood on either end, fused into the stone. One of the Kadirai staff had prepared the bath for her yesterday, but she had no idea how.
Inrada bent over to inspect the tub, finally finding a lever concealed beneath a curtain. Cold water poured into the tub, filling it rapidly. Ohrena dipped her hand into it and winced. “Oh, that’s cold.”
Inrada frowned. “How did the Kadirai woman do it yesterday?”
Ohrena sighed. “I don’t remember.”
“You could go ask the prince,” Inrada said mischievously. “If he’s not going to take you to bed, he could at least be useful in some other way.”
“How did you—”
“Well, for one, you were asleep in your bed alone instead of sprawled across a naked dragon prince,” Inrada said. “Also, I saw Zahila in the hall just now. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Taking a deep breath for courage, Ohrena peeled her nightgown off and plunged into the icy water. “Spirits below, that’s cold.” Her skin pebbled instantly as she hastily scrubbed herself clean with a rough sponge and a hunk of herb-filled soap from home. “Tell me what you learned last night.”
“Well, sorry to poke a sore spot, but you might have been the only one in the castle who didn’t consummate your own wedding,” Inrada said. “Several interesting couples. Several guards pleasuring kitchen maids.”
“You didn’t watch,” Ohrena said. Inrada sometimes took information gathering too seriously.
“Not for long,” Inrada said with a shrug. She opened a wooden cabinet and pulled out a large, fluffy towel then held it out for her. “I also discovered several interesting passages. There’s a lovely series of decorative windows around the upper dome of the queen’s throne room. Much too small for a dragon.”
“But not for you,” Ohrena said. She surged out of the tub and into the towel. Inrada bundled her up and rubbed her arms vigorously.
“Just my size. A little hard to reach, but I figured it out,” Inrada said. “I also informed your father of the noble attempting to get his ear. He entertained her for a few minutes before politely turning her away.”
“Well done,” Ohrena said. “And did you have fun last night?”
Inrada’s lips pursed into a wicked smile. “I always have fun.” She sighed. “Shall I attend to you today?”
“It would be wise for us to keep up appearances for a while,” Ohrena replied. Still clutching the warm towel to herself, she rifled through the large wardrobe for clothing. Most of her clothing was in the fashion of Val Legarra, with long, flowing jackets and slim trousers. But she’d a
cquired garments from Ironhold to blend in and please Zayir. She pulled down a flowing dark blue gown and one of the jackets. “What shall I say today?”
Inrada smirked. “My instinct is to send a loud message to your idiot husband,” she said. “But I know that’s not the answer. Be subtle and blend in.”
It took her a few minutes to dress in the elaborate gown. Ohrena fiddled with the layering of the sleeves while Inrada deftly braided her hair and lined her eyes with a dark kohl. After sliding her feet into a pair of slippers, she followed Inrada directly into the path of two Kadirai soldiers standing shoulder-to-shoulder in front of her door.
“Good morning, su’ud redahn,” they said in unison. One was a tall, bronze-skinned woman with dark hair twisted in a braided knot on top of her head, while the other was a broad-shouldered male with a clean-shaven head. They both wore red regalia, though it was absent of the polished bronze armor that had accompanied it yesterday.
“Good morning,” she said, trying to mask her surprise. “I was just stepping out for the morning.”
“We will be pleased to escort you wherever you wish to go,” the woman said.
“Oh, I’m sure we can find our way,” Ohrena said.
The woman shook her head. “This is on the orders of my queen. We are to see to your safety at all times.”
Was it for her safety or so she wasn’t unattended? She glanced back at Inrada. Dressed in her neat, plain clothes, Inrada looked like a simple handmaid, not a spy who was skilled with the knife hidden at the small of her back. “Then I thank you for your devoted attention. I would like to see my father. I believe he is staying in the guest quarters.”
“Lead, and we will follow,” the woman said. She bowed her head politely. “My name is Teviri, and this is Ahbin.”
“It is my pleasure,” Ohrena said. She gestured to Inrada. “Lead the way, my friend.”
The sheer size of Ironhold was intimidating. From a distance, the palace rose like a tower to the heavens, clad in dark stone and brilliant stained glass that shone in the afternoon sun. Inside, it was somehow even more intimidating. The halls were wide and twice as tall as those of her home in Val Legarra, as if the entire building had been built for dragons to fly through. Perhaps it had.
Winding through the long halls, Inrada led her to a guest room on the next floor down. It was smaller than her own, but beautifully appointed. Her father stood at the window, surveying the city below as it was painted in fiery hues by the rising sun. He had always been an early riser, and usually had already visited the temple for morning prayers by the time the rest of the family woke. A gentle smile creased his tanned face as he turned to her. “You look well.”
“I am well,” she replied. She glanced at the two guards. “May I have some privacy to speak to my father?”
Teviri nodded and stepped back into the hallway with her companion. After giving her a questioning look, Inrada followed, leaving her alone with her father.
“I…I hope the prince treated you kindly,” her father said, eyes downcast.
“He was not unkind,” Ohrena said as she joined him on the balcony. Her father deserved peace of mind, but he didn’t need to know the humiliating details of how the prince had utterly refused her. “I believe he is pleased with our arrangement.”
Her father covered her hand with his own, still not looking at her. “Thank you for your agreement. I love her dearly, but your older sister would not have managed the grace you did,” he said. “I know this was not what you would have requested.”
“No, it was not,” she said. “But if it will serve our people, then I will do it.”
He nodded. “My quiet sage,” he mused. He lifted his hand to cup her cheek. “Should anything happen, you only need send word.”
“Understood,” she said. “I will send word regardless.”
He nodded silently, then opened his arms. As he embraced her, she breathed deep, taking in the earthy, sage smell of Edra blood, so different from the smoky scent of the Kadirai. There was the familiar oiled leather of his belt, and the rich scent of smoking tobacco that clung to his hair. Her throat clenched as he withdrew, and she thought, just one more moment. Don’t leave me alone here.
But she dutifully released her hold and withdrew from his grasp. “Be well, my daughter,” he said. His voice was even and steady. Of course it was. He was a visitor to the strange land, and he was about to go home to a place that was warm and familiar, filled with the scent of familiar food and the song of his native tongue. To a place where he was known.
And she would stay here, where she would always be the outsider. But she had chosen this, though the enormity of it threatened to overwhelm her. Hoping her fear didn’t show in her eyes, she smiled and said, “And you as well, father.”
“I must return home,” he said. “Remember, you only need to send word.”
She nodded. “Until we meet again.”
“Shall I send word for her?” Kaldir asked. He raised an eyebrow as he leaned over to sneak a piece of meat from the platter.
After agreeing to his sister’s request to marry Ohrena, Zayir had engaged in unofficial negotiations with his twin. Among other minor assets, Zayir had claimed the southern sitting room on the fourth floor as his own. The entire back wall was glass, filling the room with warm light and granting a spectacular view of the North Sea. With a few of the windows open, the room was filled with the distant murmur of waves and the noisy chattering of sea birds flying past.
“You would eat before my wife?” Zayir said. “Shame, Kaldir.”
The small dining table was laden with several ceramic platters of smoked meats, sliced fruit, and fresh bread, a traditional Kadirai breakfast. The tangy, smoky smell of the ashtari was maddening, but he hadn’t touched a morsel yet.
“Your wife isn’t coming to breakfast, and I have a busy morning,” Kaldir replied. He rolled up a thin slice of meat and shoved it into his mouth, chewing vigorously. “I hope you didn’t wear her out on your first night.”
He glanced over his shoulder. There was no one in the hall to hear his admission. “I didn’t touch her.”
His friend’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“She’s a frightened little puppet,” Zayir said. “She doesn’t want to be here. I’m not so desperate to stick my cock in something warm that I want the image of her staring at me like a monster.” Because he’d heard every slanderous whisper echoing in his head, even as she stood there glorious and naked in front of him.
He’ll probably make her cry.
“Are you ill?” Kaldir said. “Did you strike your head last night?”
“Oh, fuck off,” Zayir said. “I’ve never been with anyone who wasn’t enthusiastically requesting it. And you know it.”
“Oh, I know,” Kaldir said. “I’ve had to listen to those enthusiastic requests far more often than I’d like. You hadn’t been gone fifteen minutes last night when Pirazha Rubyspine approached and informed me that if you found your new wife underwhelming, she would be pleased to take care of your needs.”
Pirazha was a gem of a woman. She never played coy; if she wanted to ride him until his legs went numb, she simply said so. The very thought of her sent a warm shiver down his spine, sparking a pleasant heat in his groin.
But it felt wrong, even though he’d soundly rejected Ohrena last night. It wasn’t that she was unattractive. Quite the opposite, in fact. He would have been more than pleased to explore the soft curves of her body, to learn the unique language of her pleasure.
But not at her expense. Not when she feared him, not when she had not chosen this for herself. He would not be a monster.
He sighed and reached for the small silver bell at the center of the table and rang it. A few seconds later, a slender male servant scurried into the room. “Biatir, will you please go and see if my wife has risen? I would like for her to dine with me this morning.”
Kaldir’s lips pulled into a rare smile as he watched the servant go. “Perhaps she is punishing you
for sending her to bed unsatisfied.”
“Please,” he scoffed. “She didn’t want to touch me.”
“I’m sure Pirazha would be happy to touch you.”
“I’m sure she would,” Zayir said. “I’ll speak to her if I must, but I have no intention of carrying on with her.” As Biatir hurried out of the room, he lowered his voice. “I want you to watch her servants.” He told Kaldir about Ohrena’s quiet orders to Inrada and the others at the feast.
His playful expression instantly dissipated. “I told you this was suspicious.”
“That’s why I have you to protect me,” Zayir said. “Just keep an eye on them.”
“That’s why your sister has me.” His expression darkened. “Though I may not be here for much longer.”
He felt as if he’d been punched in the gut. Kaldir had been his closest friend for decades. For most of his life, Zayir’s devotion to his sister had precluded any other significant relationships, but this one he treasured. And unlike most of his other relationships, Tarim wasn’t threatened by Kaldir, who had served the previous queen. As soon as Tarim took the throne, Kaldir had bowed to her and became part of the family. Two had become three, as natural and comfortable as if it had always been that way. “What does that mean?”
“There is word of war to the south,” Kaldir said. He reached for another piece of meat, chewing thoughtfully.
“We knew that,” Zayir said. “What does that have to do with you?”
“My mother has heard from one of the Arik’tazhan in the human realm.”
“Good for your mother,” Zayir said. “You’re a big boy, aren’t you?”
Kaldir chuckled, though the sound was forced. “If she demands it, I will go to war.”
“Does my sister know about this?” Even the suggestion that Kaldir would be taken from them was enough to send Tarim into a fit. And for once, Zayir might not be the stabilizing force to calm her down, not with so much changing at once.
