The Dragons' Chosen (29 page)

I couldn’t have agreed more.

--

During our evening meal, I casually inserted a question into our conversation. “I know so little of your land. Tell me about it.”

Rauf answered first. “What do you wish to know, My Lady? It is nothing like this.” He spread his hand indicating the rough stone table where we sat. “Our country is large, broad enough that it takes a full three days of flight to traverse it from mountain to sea. Plenty of hunting grounds, fertile crop land, streams in which to fish and forests filled with game.”

James interrupted. “That’s not what she is asking. She wants to know about the courts, the castles, where she will live.”

Hugh looked up. “The land is divided into five dukedoms administered by the princes of Pritorous. Each region has a council where a person from each township has a seat, a way for me to hear the needs of my people. Once a year a meeting is held with all the dukes.”

I nodded and was about to ask a more pressing question when Chris spoke. “What about your women? What is their place in your society? How are they treated?”

Rauf stepped in. “We are part dragon and like lovely things. Beautiful ladies, for example.” He grinned at me. “And like all treasures, they are handled carefully.” He dallied over the words, making them into a caress.

I blushed.

Piers snorted. “You know what Mother would say to that.”

Chris looked at him, all attention. “What would she say?”

Piers grinned. “That he had better modify his ways or no woman will accept him. Mother rules our castle since our father’s passing.”

Rauf grinned back, nodding, “Yes, my aunt would see me properly chastised. A fine, strong woman, your mother; silver-blue scales and the hottest flame in seven leagues.”

I ventured a further question. “I am curious about the other chosen princesses. For instance, what happened to Penelope? You mentioned her name before.”

James looked up, blinking into the shadows that danced beyond the flickering torches. “She was our eighth princess. When our people came in dragon form, she fled. Fell from a cliff and broke her neck.”

I felt blood rush from my face and Chris gasped in horror. Across the table, Hugh and Rauf stilled.

James shook his head. “There was no bride that century. Such a waste. After that, the rules were amended to have the princess sedated and secured. For her own safety. No one could bear to be responsible for the loss of life.”

Chris stood up, hands clenched. “That’s barbaric. You continued this practice after someone died?”

I spoke through white lips. “A princess’s death was but a mistake to be shrugged off as a casualty of circumstance?”

James breached the silence that ensued. “No. It wasn’t like that. You don’t understand. The princesses are treasured. Our human survival depends on them. These marriages are venerated as the symbol of our commemoration to life and our future.”

“They don’t sound like happy marriages to me.”

“That is not true. There have been many happy and prosperous marriages resulting from these arrangements,” Hugh countered.

Chris raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes, our chosen women are well-respected. Many of them control land and wield power of their own,” Hugh insisted.

I looked from one to the other. Was this true? Women having individual power, not just being the hand behind the throne? As Hugh’s queen, I would have respect and power. Decisions would bear my stamp.

If I were with Rauf, or Piers, I would be but a duchess with lands—and if Tristan were my husband, the same, but alone for much of the year.

No, and though my chest ached, I pushed that last possibility away. Hugh was the best choice for me. I spared a quick look Tristan’s way. He was watching me, not saying a word through all this discussion. Could he see my thoughts writ upon my face?

Someone coughed and I brought myself back to the conversation, hoping I hadn’t missed much.

Rauf agreed. “True. There were ballads composed about the love between Anisette and Kester.”

Piers looked thoughtful as he added, “And Rosalind, we have many portraits of her. She always looked happy and smiling, beaming at her husband and four children.”

Rauf interjected, “Don’t forget Sophia—she reigned after King Ranulf died. Every year she held a festival where couples were married right in the castle courtyard. It is written that she did so in hopes that others would experience the joy that she had in her marriage.”

James nodded and then stated, “All true. Wonderful marriages—except for two noteworthy failures: Elsbeth and Victoria.”

Hugh snapped his head around with a low growl but James lumbered on, spilling forth his thoughts, as earnest as always. “Not much is known about Elsbeth. She was chosen five hundred years ago. The history books say that she never really recovered after her selection.”

Piers and Rauf tried to get James’s attention. This was something they didn’t want told. He ignored them, obviously lost in story-telling mode.

“Some say her mind snapped. Perhaps she wasn’t particularly sound mentally before she was chosen. Still, Justin honored the agreement and made her his queen. I’m sure it was a cheerless arrangement. She bore King Justin two children, but she was never well. The courtiers’ journals from that time say that Elsbeth screamed and fainted when she saw anyone in dragon form. King Justin had her protected, confined, keeping her from anything that might cause her distress. The accounts imply she was held almost as a prisoner.”

I listened, struck by the bleakness of Elsbeth’s life.

“That last day, ’tis said she eluded her guards, said goodbye to her children, walked out of the nursery and jumped from the top portico of the castle.

“There’s a statue in the central plaza of her. Shows her with wings. She’s hailed as a martyr by some, a sad fool by others.”

I shuddered at the image. Chris leaned forward, eager to hear more.

Hugh shifted as if moving to stop James from continuing, but Tristan placed a hand on his arm. “No, let him speak. They have a right to know both the good and the bad.” So intent was James on his story that he didn’t even notice.

“Victoria, though, well, she was our last human queen. Only eighty-one years ago. Stories and mystery abound about her. Pregnant queens do not just disappear.”

He was telling the tale of my great-aunt Victoria. I sat unmoving. “She was pregnant?”

“Yes, with her third child. Two young children left behind; the eldest was our grandmother.

“She and King Leith were like fire and oil. Both hotheaded. By all accounts, Victoria was not a woman easily cowed. According to her journals, she felt betrayed and coerced. Leith may not have made enough of an effort to make her life easier. There were rumors that she had left a lover back in your country. Once she was chosen, there was no going back. King Leith was a proud man. A man accustomed to getting his way. Though I suspect he must have felt guilty for years.”

I didn’t understand. “But where did she go? Was she lost in the mountains trying to return to her home? Didn’t your people look for her?”

“Oh, they searched. But one of the golden cards of magic vanished. It was believed she took it and traveled to a distant land on its power. Whatever the true story, at least one of the four golden cards did disappear with her going.”

My eyes opened wide but I managed not to gasp. Chris had been speaking quietly with Hugh, but at James’s words she turned, looking first at me and then back to Hugh. Her voice wavered, “What’s this about a golden card?”

Chapter 41

She and I excused ourselves and abruptly left, claiming female needs. Now Chris sat cross-legged on the stone floor holding out her card as if it were carrion. “It can’t mean that. It’s simply not possible. My folks came over from Scotland, not some weird country with dragons!”

Across the cavern, Hugh was speaking to James, apparently chastising him. The others gathered nearby.

I shook my head. “Chris, this makes sense. Your great-grandmother, Ria, was the last chosen princess.” I searched for some comfort to hand Chris. “She must have been very brave.”

“But don’t you see?” Chris’s voice rose in a panicked whisper, with many furtive glances toward her newest kinsmen. “She only had one child—my grandfather. They’re saying Nana was pregnant when she left, bearing a half-dragon.”

She waited for me to say the obvious. Her great-grandmother had not one but three children, two of whom she left with the dragons. The last child, Chris’s grandfather, was conceived before Victoria left the dragons. Chris was kin, distant cousins, to these men. I held my tongue. She already knew. It wouldn’t do to hold her fingers to the fire.

She looked at me, her face white. “Why didn’t I see it before? Ria is short for Victoria. I’m not even fully human, I’m part dragon—part imaginary reptile.” Her voice skirted the edge of hysteria. “I think I’m going to throw up.”

I took her hand and held it tightly. “Well, yes. But Chris, Victoria was my grandmother’s sister, so you are also part of my family.” I looked into her eyes, darkened almost to a slate gray, willing her to know that it made no difference to me that she had dragon blood.

As I held her hand, I struggled internally. It was the truth. It didn’t make a difference to me. Even in the farthest recesses of my mind, I no longer saw man-dragons as something monstrous.

I understood it clearly then. “That’s
why
she sent you. You belong to both worlds. She wanted you to make a difference, to bridge these two cultures. She
believed
that you could. Or at least wanted you to have the chance.”

A tear made its way down her face. I wrapped my arms about her shoulders as she wept. Something inside me rippled a small wave of emotion that gathered force as I reflected about man-dragons, about Chris, about Tristan, about differences.

Chapter 42

I sat before the chessboard and faced Piers, who nodded back cheerfully. “White or black?”

Time was running out for me to select a husband. My fourth day. The most important decision of my life, and my parents weren’t here to advise me. Nor were the councilors of our country here to list the advantages and disadvantages of each suitor. There was no doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t be happy with someone who wasn’t a strong leader. I needed someone with backbone, but not inflexible; a razor-sharp mind, but compassionate. Someone who would govern wisely. Someone people would follow. Chris wasn’t much help. Though no longer distraught, she still wrestled with her dragon heritage, both drawn to and repulsed by who she was. I had agreed not to say anything; she needed her own time to tell them.

What did I need most? A mate or a crown, power or compatibility? If Hugh was right for me, I would have them all.

Piers did not suit. I already knew this. There was a sweetness to him that inspired protectiveness, but he was so young, my sister’s age or just older. Untried.

Three of the men sat sprawled across the rocky landscape, curious, intent.

Piers gazed at the board as if searching for some mystery there. He was not a chess player.

“Um, Piers, it’s your turn.”