Consorting with Dragons Read online

  “And then you met the king.”

  “Yes, my lady.” He paused, and then the rest came tumbling out. “But I didn’t know who he was at first, truly! I would have never spoken s-so carelessly to him if I had known. And it really isn’t uncommon for men of noble birth to dress simply in Grumhul—I didn’t know I’d be considered half-naked!”

  The lady blinked at him in an expression Jasen couldn’t quite pinpoint. “Well, Lord Jasen, you are either the most naive consort I’ve ever seen, or the cleverest. The king has already requested to see you.”

  “Oh.”

  “‘Oh?’ You have netted the largest, most sought after prize of the entire Court with barely any effort, and that’s all you have to say?”

  Jasen felt a surge of irritation at that word—prize. As if all of this were just a game, and none of them were people. “It wasn’t ‘barely’ any effort,” Jasen said. “It was no effort at all. I didn’t set out to seduce the king. I went for a walk. I had a conversation with someone I met. That’s all.”

  “I see,” she said. “Am I to take it that the king’s attention is not welcome?”

  Jasen didn’t know what to say. He felt like he was being asked to make a decision that would affect the rest of his life, and he simply wasn’t prepared for that. He clasped at the fan again, gripping it so tightly his hand hurt. “I did not say that,” he finally said.

  The lady considered him for a moment. “I was going to impress upon you that the role of king consort is not one to be taken lightly, but it seems to me that is something you don’t need to be told.”

  “No, my lady,” he said miserably.

  “There is so much that rests on the shoulders of the king consort. It is not only the king’s desires that matter. The fact that you are male is going to concern many people. The fact that you have no experience in courtly politics will concern even more.” Lady Isalei’s gaze shifted from Jasen to her tea cup. When she spoke again, it was more as if she were thinking out loud. “And then there’s the Grummish angle. Goodness, what a mess.”

  At that, Jasen felt a rush of heat warm enough to melt away his timidity. “What does my nationality have to do with anything?”

  She turned her attention back to him, seeming a little startled. “Grumhul is the only Allied Realm without dragons. Surely you can understand that there will be some skepticism that a marriage to a Grumhulian will rekindle the connection with the dragons.”

  The flame in Jasen grew. “Grumhul may not have dragons, but we are hard-working, honest people. And being from Grumhul is not my fault—nor is my inexperience or being male, for that matter! All I know is that a dragon called me, and a king found me. I don’t know what it all means. The only thing I’m sure of is that it’s as big of a mess for me as it is for you.”

  Lady Isalei leveled a cool gaze at him. Jasen’s brief flame of courage was extinguished.

  “F-forgive me, my lady,” he stammered. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  She returned her attention to her tea, which she drank with agonizing slowness. “You are a curious person, Lord Jasen,” she said at last. “I feel I may have misjudged you.”

  “I don’t think so, my lady,” Jasen muttered.

  “Are you quite certain that you want to question my judgment further?”

  Jasen stomach dropped. “Oh! No, my lady! That’s isn’t what I— What I mean to say is that I—” He stammered some more, but found that he did not have an end for that particular sentence. He felt as if he were falling down a cliff; every time he thought it was over, the ground crumbled on him and he was sent tumbling once more.

  Then the lady did something strange—she smiled at him. “I believe what you mean to say is that you trust my judgment in matters of the Court. In return, I will trust your judgment in the matters of your heart, which in my estimation is a good one. I think that we should be allies, don’t you?”

  “Allies?” he echoed. “You approve of me?”

  She took a sip of her tea before replying. “Many of the king’s other advisers are pushing for a more conventional choice—that is to say, a young lady from a prominent, dragon-blessed family. But I am of the opinion that the king’s heart is the most important matter to consider. So, are we allies, then?”

  “Yes, of course!” Jasen said quickly.

  “Good. Our first priority will be to improve your etiquette. The rest of the lords and ladies have had years of training; their time here in the next two months is meant only to polish their skills. You, however, are going to have to have more extensive instruction. I will arrange for you to meet with private tutors.”

  “I will do my best to catch up.”

  The lady shook her head. “No. You will not ‘do your best.’ You will simply do. Have some confidence in yourself. A dragon did call you, after all, and you clearly have some fire in you. That’s not a bad quality to have. It just needs to be refined.”

  She was right. Jasen straightened his spine. “Yes, my lady.” He paused before he spoke again, but hadn’t she just given him permission to be bolder? “And when I am caught up, I will see the king again?”

  She smiled again. “Not right away. Generally speaking, courtships don’t start until after the suitors arrive, although since the king himself is a suitor, that has…complicated things. There are certain personages—” and here she grimaced a little— “who wish for the king to start courting right away and make his choice as soon as possible, but I have advised the king to refrain from courting any consort for at least a month so that everyone can get properly settled. And since we are allies now, I think you will agree that you should put your best foot forward, which means we wait until I deem you ready. You may have made an impression on the king, but he isn’t the only one you need to impress.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The king has the right to select his spouse, but his council must approve of the match. It would behoove you to give them no cause for complaint.”

  People like Minister Adwig, Jasen thought, but didn’t say.

  Lady Isalei rose. Jasen got to his feet as well, grateful that the interview was almost over.

  “You may go refresh yourself now. Your first lesson starts in one hour. You will be meeting with Lady Toran, who will instruct you in the finer points of courtly manners. Rotheld will escort you to her.”

  Jasen bowed. “Thank you, my lady.”

  As Jasen returned to his room, he tried to sort through his emotions. Half of him wished fiercely to be back in the swamps of Grumhul, where nothing was expected of him. But the other half of him… Well, as Lady Isalei herself had just said, he was called by a dragon. He could feel it, like a flame in his heart. Even as a Grumhulian, he knew that that wasn’t something you could just turn your back on. He would nurture that flame and see what it illuminated.

  The next four weeks passed by in a blur. There was not a single moment of Jasen’s day that was not structured. He awoke at dawn to begin the long process of dressing and grooming, after which he met with Lady Toran for two hours to drill him on his etiquette. He had a brief break before music lessons, which he attended with several other lords and ladies. He’d never picked up a musical instrument in his life and couldn’t begin to guess why this was a skill deemed important. After that was a quick luncheon, and then dance lessons, followed by diction, discourse and literature. He was equally inept at all of them.

  Dinner afforded him a longer break, but it was not exactly a restful experience. Word of the king’s interest in him had spread like wildfire, and just as Larely had predicted, it made him exceedingly unpopular. Princess Polina seemed especially put out. Jasen wasn’t sure how to handle it all. He wasn’t used to having to impress.

  After dinner, he received more private tutoring, and then rounded off the night with “leisure” time, which was not actually leisure because consorts were expected to practice conversation during that time, or read aloud to one another from classic works of drama and poetry, or work on their
needlepoint, or practice their dance, or any of the other dozen little ways in which proper consorts were supposed to amuse themselves and their suitors.

  Finally, at nine in the evening, he was permitted to retire. Only he didn’t, most nights. He waited for Rotheld to leave him, and then he would sneak to Risyda’s room. Sometimes it was just the two of them, but occasionally, Larely would join them. Larely was an invaluable coconspirator—he always made sure their less savory pursuits went undetected.

  He wasn’t used to this much activity. In Grumhul, days passed by lazily with little happening. Here, every moment was bustling, as if there couldn’t possibly be enough hours in the day to get everything done. The fact that it was all so senseless and shallow made the urgent nature of it surreal. If Jasen had even a minute to think about it, he might have rebelled, but there was no time to stop and consider anything. Perhaps that was the point.

  But through it all, that little flame still burned in him. All these useless rituals seemed like strange fuel for that fire, but he tried to trust Lady Isalei. If she said this frivolity would light his path back to the king and the dragon, then he would submit to it, although at times he felt like it was extinguishing the fire rather than feeding it. But then he would remember the feeling of Tasenred’s scales against his skin, and the feel of the king’s heated gaze. He would grit his teeth and dive back in.

  At last, the first month of training was over. Jasen waited eagerly for the king’s invitation, but it didn’t come. He didn’t even receive a visit from Lady Isalei—surely she would want to see his progress? Unless his tutors had reported that he was a hopeless case. He tried to push that thought out of his mind and hold on to hope.

  On the fifth week, however, that hope was abruptly shattered. He could even pinpoint the exact moment that it happened. It was during their evening socializing period. He and Risyda were in the Swan Parlor, pretending to read. Across the room were Princess Polina and a few of her cohorts. Jasen tried not to listen to them, but the inanity of their chatter was too annoying to ignore.

  “I had another prophetic dream last night,” Polina was saying.

  Lord Banither, one of Polina’s most ardent toadies, gasped. “Another one, Princess? You must tell us what it is!”

  “I am lying in a field,” she said. “The sky darkens—there is something passing above me…”

  Lady Lalan, a dark-haired beauty from Westrona, put a hand to her breast. “A dragon, do you think?” she breathed.

  “Yes,” Polina said dramatically. “It was the same dragon that gave me the gift of prophecy when I was but a child. She lowered her noble head and looked into my eyes, and then suddenly I felt something on my brow—something heavy, but I couldn’t see what it was…”

  “A crown!” Banither said.

  Polina fluttered her fan. “Oh, do you really think so?”

  Risyda let out a snort of laughter. Polina glared over in their direction.

  “It looks like it will rain tonight,” Polina said loudly. “I certainly don’t care for this unseasonably cold weather! Although I imagine it must be a comfort for you, Lord Jasen, as I hear it rains often in Grumhul. Tell me—is it true that your people bring their livestock into their homes when it rains?”

  “Only when there might be mudslides,” he mumbled.

  Polina and her friends tittered.

  “Why do you think that’s so unusual, Polly?” Risyda said. “Don’t you keep animals in your homes, too?”

  “Animals in our castle? How ridiculous!”

  “You were just regaling us earlier with stories of all your precious little doggies. You know, those fluffy little things that are always yapping and nipping at people’s ankles. It’s so cute the way they think they’re threatening.”

  “That’s different,” she snapped.

  “Even useless animals are still animals,” Risyda said.

  Polina waved her fan so quickly that it was a blur. Risyda and Jasen shared a grin.

  Silence descended upon the room. Polina’s friends tentatively began to chatter again, but the foul mood of their leader made their talk strained. Eventually, Polina stood up and yawned dramatically. “Dear me, I am tired this evening. Perhaps I should retire early. After all, I want to look my best for my audience with the king tomorrow.”

  Jasen whipped his head up. Polina gave him a sly look out of the corner of her eye, but continued to address her friends. “Minister Adwig says that I am the exact image of the late queen consort.”

  Something inside him snapped. Tears pricked his eyes. Since he had no intention of letting Polina see how hurt he was, Jasen put his book down on a chair and left, heading back to his own room. For once he was glad of all the stairs—he imagined each stair was Polina’s face. He was halfway up the first flight of stairs when Risyda caught up with him.

  “You shouldn’t let her bother you,” she said. “The fact that the king is seeing her doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “Right,” Risyda said. “That’s why your face is bright red and you’re stomping up these stairs.”

  “Lady Isalei said that she supports me, and yet Polina of all people is meeting him before I do. Why?”

  Risyda bit her lip. “Lady Isalei just wants you to make the best impression possible.”

  “Or maybe she’s changed her mind.” He couldn’t believe he’d been naive enough to believe that Lady Isalei was truly his “ally.” Of course she would prefer that the king settle with a princess. How could he have been so stupid? Then a worse thought came to him. “Or perhaps the king’s mind is the one that changed,” he said quietly. He resumed his march up the stairs.

  Risyda followed him. “Well, maybe that’s a relief,” she said carefully. “You said you weren’t sure you wanted to be king consort, didn’t you?”

  The flame in his heart flared at that, but he tempered it. “You’re right, I don’t. And I don’t want to be here at all. I will never be any good at this! I might as well give up now. I’m going to arrange for a carriage tomorrow to go to my uncle’s. My father can think of some other way to pay off his debts. Maybe he’d like to come here and win himself a rich spouse!”

  Risyda put a hand on his shoulder. “Before we start sending for carriages, why don’t we go back to my room and relax for a little bit.”

  Jasen let her lead him back to her room. She pulled out her hookah and let Jasen take a big puff. Some of his tension left. He lay on his back on the floor and stared at the smoke that swirled around them. The thing he liked best about kara weed was that it made anything other than the moment he was in seem unimportant. Risyda took her own puff and then spread out on the sofa, lying with her head hanging backwards off the edge.

  Eventually, Jasen asked, “Is she really dragon-blessed with premonition?”

  Risyda snorted. “Of course not. Premonition is the one dragon blessing that a person can claim without any proof. Most people who claim to have it are frauds.”

  Jasen watched Risyda puff different shapes of smoke out of her mouth for another few hazy moments. “What does it feel like to be dragon-blessed?”

  “Do you mean in general or when it happened?”

  “Both.”

  Risyda took a few moments to answer. “I don’t know how to describe it. I was awfully young at the time—only six years old. The draeds took me to the draemir along with a few other children. We prayed for a while, but it didn’t seem like any dragons were going to come. We were about to leave when she came—a small, green dragon. I felt a warmth like nothing else— it seemed to come from inside me. The draeds brought us up to the dragon and we all touched her. I felt a spark.”

  “And then you had your powers?”

  “Not at first. It was a few weeks before they manifested. I set the tablecloth on fire at dinner one night. That was quite a disaster.” Risyda rolled over and gave him a searching look. “Why are you asking? Did something like that happen to you?”

  “I don’t
know,” Jasen said. “Maybe. But don’t you have to be a child to be blessed?”

  Risyda shrugged. “I’m not an expert by any means, although there is a difference between being blessed by a dragon and being called by one. The experiences feel similar, but they mean different things. Being dragon-blessed means you’re given an ability. Being dragon-called means that a dragon is requesting your service.”

  “Have you ever met anyone who was called?”

  She hesitated for a moment. “I was, once.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes, when I was fifteen. I woke up one morning, and before I knew what was happening, I grabbed my horse and rode straight to the nearest draemir. It was the same dragon that blessed me.” She looked down at her hands, seeming uncomfortable for once. “I’ve never told anyone that before.”

  “Why not?”

  “I didn’t want to be a draedess. An austere life of self-sacrifice isn’t something that I find very appealing.” She lay back on the sofa again, staring at the ceiling as she puffed some more. “Then again, becoming a wife doesn’t seem appealing to me, either.”

  They smoked gloomily for a while until there was a familiar knock on the door.

  “Thank the heavens,” Risyda said. “Maybe Larely can cheer us up.”

  Risyda opened the door to let him in. He was carrying a small bag.

  “Well, you two look glum,” Larely said. “Is the torturous existence of a noble wearing on you?”

  “You have no idea,” Risyda said. “What’s in the bag?”

  Larely pulled out a bottle. “Colderberry wine.”

  “Oh, I could kiss you!” Risyda said. And then she did—a wet, sloppy smack on the cheek. Larely blushed a little. Jasen supposed that answered the question of whether or not Larely was flirting with him. He felt relieved. Had he been in Grumhul, he could see himself in a romance with Larely, but the whole business with the king and his lessons and the dragon had left him too upside down for trysts.

  They passed the bottle around as they chatted. Larely and Risyda seemed to not have any troubles, but after a couple of swigs, Jasen felt sick. He never could hold his liquor. “I’m going to bed,” he said, struggling to his feet.