Chapter 3
ROLAND
While Aderyn watched the peacocks, I watched him.
The way his face slackened and his eyes glistened with awe.
His soft inhale when one of the birds saw a rival and unfurled his magnificent fan of tail feathers.
How the glass around us diffused the light trapped between snow outside and the cloud cover above, making everything brighter all around us, Aderyn a beautiful golden spot in the haze of white.
Aderyn was caught in the magic of the new birds, and I could watch him wonder at these creatures all day.
“Do you like them?” I asked softly, hesitant to break the moment.
But then, he sent a smile my way and the whole world was swathed in warmth. “They’re wonderful.”
His green eyes twinkled, and I slipped my hand into his and squeezed.
Ruling Llangard rarely meant making a person so happy. I did my best, but there were compromises to be made in the name of fairness. I couldn’t simply dote on every subject I crossed paths with, just to make them smile.
Quite frankly, I didn’t want to.
But I knew Aderyn’s suffering like it was my own. I’d felt every shard of fear and loss in my heart, each time I let myself reflect on his long, lonely childhood. He deserved happiness more than anyone I’d ever met, and I’d do anything it took to give it to him.
Anything.
I hardly cared if it cost all of Llangard, little as I’d admit that aloud.
“I’m glad.” I spread my fingers, and his slipped between mine. His were long and thin, mine stout and rough. “Their feathers sparkle in the sun like jewels. I’ve brought the fallen ones to your hoard already, if you’d like to keep them.”
New feathers that we gathered while Aderyn was away, I placed on a table for inspection. Yes, Aderyn could arrange them however he liked. They were his. But if I found something I thought he’d like, I’d offer it.
This was the one good thing I could do without weighing my duty in the balance—making Aderyn happy. And he was my truest friend, so why shouldn’t I?
I stayed long enough for him to find one of the seed feeders around the aviary, and he took a handful and knelt in the grass.
A peacock near him tilted its funny little head, blinking wide black eyes curiously.
It strutted close, one careful step at a time, before eating right from Aderyn’s outstretched palm.
He smiled as the beak tickled his hand.
“I have a meeting with some foreign dignitaries,” I mused, even then, lost in watching him. “You can stay here, if you like, or get settled in.”
Aderyn’s smile hardly wavered for a second, and still, I found myself shaking my head against his worry.
“It’ll only take an hour or two,” I promised. “Then, supper.” We’d have meat and vegetables and cake. Aderyn could take his pick of anything Llangard could provide, and perhaps then, Hafgan would be satisfied. “And I’m all yours after that.”
We wouldn’t plan anything too serious that first night. Mostly, I thought he’d find his way to my bed, or me to his, and we’d put our feet up on the headboard and I’d ask him about the Hudoliaeth and the Summer Clan and the Stone Clan and Dorte and all the birds he’d seen on the road.
We’d probably hold hands.
We’d—
Well, I wasn’t sure. We were close in every way. Aderyn had been my first kiss, only kiss, and sometimes I thought—
I didn’t know if he wanted more. Sometimes, I hoped he did. He was my heart, out there in the world. But when I let myself imagine more than the sweet gestures that’d come so naturally to us over the years, I was . . . I was afraid.
The very last thing I ever wanted to do was hurt Aderyn, and pressing for anything more from him surely would. Especially when—
I just wasn’t sure I was good enough for him. I would always try, but I’d determined years ago that if the best thing I could do for Aderyn was be his friend and confidant, then that’d be all we were. He would always be able to count on me, no matter what.
If that meant he wanted a kiss, good. His lips were soft and sweet, and he belonged close to me.
If he changed his mind later, I’d still be here.
“All right,” he said, his smile as sure and sweet as ever. Even if he didn’t want me gone, he’d put aside his own needs for a while, because it came too naturally to him to expect too little.
That made me want to stay, to ignore Llangard and Lord Forov and his wife and—
And the sooner we finished negotiations, the better. The Destovians would return home, Llangard would be more prosperous than ever, and I would spend the winter in front of cozy hearths with the person I most wanted to sit beside.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, pleasant and detached as he rolled the seeds around in his hand. The peacock let out a shrill little sound at the movement, dipping around Aderyn’s thumb for another snack.
“I want to hear everything,” I promised.
It was still hard to leave. Impossible. I—
I owed it to Llangard to get myself in hand. These negotiations could open opportunities for our ship captains, increase trade, draw the dragons from their mountain villages into towns more often, make us whole.
Moreover, Llangard was experiencing a time of peace and prosperity like we’d rarely known. The farmland was fertile, and there were no ornery clans along our borders to dissuade interlopers.
From all the Llangardian ambassadors in every neighboring court, we’d gotten reports of green-eyed interest in our agricultural production, and while it seemed so far that foreign courts were open to negotiation, it was only a matter of time before the scales tilted and they tried to take what we could not give.
When I found the Destovians, Rhys was already talking to Lord Forov, his tone smooth and kind, like the teacher he was.
Forov wore a pinched expression, and the sharpness in his gaze when he looked my way seemed to demand . . . something.
I couldn’t tell what, unless Rhys had gotten lost in storytelling again and Forov needed saving, but from the last few words I’d caught, it seemed as if he were telling Forov of the dragon clans and how they moved through the land. The wool and fish and jewels and—
Dragons were specialists. Maddox’s clan produced the best wool our tailors had ever seen.
There was a clan by the ocean that caught fish in such quantities it had staggered our fishermen to learn the breadth of their skill.
If something caught one of their interests, it behooved us all to get out of their way and let them do what drove them.
Rhys knew more about dragons—more about everything—than anyone I’d ever met. We were lucky he was with us.
So was the Summer Clan.
The very last thing Maddox wanted to do was crawl back into the Spires to play politics. Hells, I suspected that Aunt Gillian liked the prospect little better, even if she was more skilled at it.
Rhys, however, was as comfortable at court as any dragon I’d ever seen.
He was soft-spoken and pleasant, incredibly well read.
I thought the difference for him was that his life had unfolded in the Spires.
He’d recovered a love he’d thought lost and discovered Tristram, a son he’d never known existed.
That wasn’t to say his life at the Hudoliaeth had been small, but there were children to read to in the Spires as well as anywhere else. He was happy and well suited to this kind of work.
As much as I tried to be, it didn’t come quite as easily to me. My mind was still with Aderyn when Forov turned my way.
“We could arrange a tour, if you’d like,” I offered. “Traveling through the mountains in winter isn’t the most comfortable, but we’ve improved our roads through the valleys in recent years. Or perhaps next time you visit?”
Forov’s mouth screwed to the side. “That’s not necessary.”
The way his eyes skimmed over Rhys struck me as oily and wrong. “We’ve come to treat with Llangard’s people, not—”
“Dragons and humans live and work together in our kingdom. We are all Llangardain, Lord Forov,” I said with a smile on my face and perhaps too much sternness in my tone.
“Of course,” he said, returning my grin with a slick movement that placed him between Rhys and myself. “Though our emperor is concerned with particularly human pursuits. The return of magic to the Cavendish line, for example. How lucky that you’ve found your power once more.”
My mouth snapped shut.
Truth was, my magic had died long ago, when my uncle tried to kill me. The steps Tristram and Rhys had taken to save me had—had come at a cost.
Moreover, it was our connection to the dragons that allowed any magic at all.
Aunt Gillian’s power had blossomed as her connection to Maddox gan Halwyn grew.
When I’d had power of my own, it’d come from my bond with Tristram and encouragement from Lady Rhiannon.
And suddenly, I didn’t want Lord Forov or his Emperor Joseph to know a damned thing about that bond.
“Quite lucky,” I agreed, “though we’ve yet to find any explanation for it.”
The way Forov clicked his tongue disappointedly sent me staring at Rhys for help, but all he had to offer was a weak smile and a shrug.
Best to get on with it, then.