Chapter 16 Raoul #2
The hall lived up to its name. A vaulted ceiling soared overhead, supported by columns carved to look like dragons in flight.
Gold mosaics covered the walls, depicting the clan’s history in detail.
Long tables had been arranged in a U-shape, and dragons in formal attire filled the seats, their conversation a low hum.
Every head turned when we entered.
Adele tensed beside me, but she kept her expression serene. I squeezed her hand and led her toward the head table where Trevare waited.
“King Raoul, Queen Adele.” Trevare rose, gesturing to seats positioned directly across from him. “Please, join us.”
The advisors flanking him looked less welcoming. They were older, their faces carved from years of politics, and they watched us with the kind of scrutiny that made my dragon want to bare its teeth.
I kept smiling and pulled out Adele’s chair, waiting for her to sit before taking my own.
Servants appeared immediately, pouring wine and setting out platters of food.
Everything had been arranged for artistic appeal.
I spied multiple kinds of roasted meats garnished with herbs, an equally impressive display of vegetables cut into decorative shapes, and bread formed into intricate braids.
“We’re honored to host the King and Queen of Emberforge,” Trevare said, raising his glass. “To ongoing cooperation between our courts.”
“To cooperation,” I said, and everyone drank.
The advisor to Trevare’s left, a stern-appearing woman with silver streaking her dark hair, set down her glass with a sharp click. “I understand you’ve come to investigate the infant situation.”
Situation. Not crisis. Not problem. Another careful word choice.
“Queen Adele is an expert in atmospheric conditions,” I said. “We’re here to see if weather is in any way the cause and if so, offer solutions.”
“A witch.” The advisor’s tone made it sound like a diagnosis. “In our sacred spaces.”
“A weather witch,” Adele said. “I have specific expertise that may be relevant to your current challenges. But if you’d prefer not to have my assistance, I could leave.”
The advisor’s eyes narrowed, but before she could respond, Trevare jumped into the silence. “We appreciate any expertise offered. The health of our young ones is paramount.”
“Of course,” the advisor said, though her expression suggested otherwise. “Though one wonders why Emberforge takes such interest in Goldwing’s internal affairs.”
“Suffering children aren’t an internal affair.” I kept my tone diplomatic. “They’re a concern for all dragon courts.”
“We have reason to believe Silvervale could be causing this situation.” The advisor on Trevare’s right leaned forward.
“What evidence would you like to present?” I asked, not willing to allow them to accuse Silvervale without facts.
The advisor looked down at his plate. “Oh, well…”
“Their children are also suffering. I have a hard time believing they’d do anything to harm their own young,” I said.
Color rose in the advisor’s face. “It was merely a thought.”
Trevare grunted. “One we’re not strongly entertaining.”
“Oh, yes, of course.” The advisor looked like he’d like to slide under the table now.
We started serving ourselves and eating.
“The fact that Silvervale’s young are also suffering suggests a common cause,” Adele said. “Environmental or atmospheric, given the geographic proximity and similar symptoms.”
“And you believe you can determine this cause?” The first advisor still sounded skeptical.
“I’m going to try.”
“We’ve had our own healers examine the children,” another advisor chimed in from our right. “They’ve found nothing wrong.”
“Then perhaps a different perspective will help,” Adele said.
The advisor huffed. “Or perhaps this is simply a natural phase that will pass on its own, and we’re creating drama where none exists.”
“Sneezing every few minutes isn’t a natural phase,” Adele said. She took a bite of a vegetable and chewed before swallowing. “It’s a symptom.”
“Of what?” The advisor spread his hands. “You admit you don’t know.”
“Not yet. That’s why we’re here to investigate.”
“To poke around our homes, you mean.”
“That’s not—” Adele said, but I placed a hand on her arm.
“We’re here as allies,” I said. “Not judges or critics. Allies offering help because children are suffering. Perhaps we could discuss this with less hostility.”
Silence fell across the table. Trevare looked grateful, the advisors’ faces held varying degrees of resentment, and I was already exhausted.
This was the part of kingship I hated. The endless political dance, the carefully measured words, the constant balancing of egos and territories. It was necessary, but fates, it was draining.
Except when I glanced at Adele and found her watching me with admiration in her eyes. Some of that exhaustion faded.
That was impressive, she said.
Welcome to inter-court politics.
I’d rather fight a storm.
So would I.
The rest of dinner passed with stilted conversation unrelated to their problem. As dessert was being served, a few advisors questioned Adele about how she’d investigate.
Adele spoke of her methodology, refusing to be intimidated when they questioned her credentials or expertise. She handled question after question with competence, and my chest tightened with pride.
This strong woman was mine. Or I was hers. Possibly we were each other’s, and fates help me, I was falling so hard I couldn’t remember what solid ground felt like.
By the time Trevare declared the meal concluded, my face hurt from maintaining a pleasant expression, and I could feel Adele’s exhaustion.
“We’ll arrange for you to visit families tomorrow morning,” Trevare said as we rose and walked out into the hallway, leaving the others behind. He lowered his voice. “I apologize for my advisors’ skepticism. They mean well.”
“I understand,” Adele said. “Change is always difficult, especially when it involves outsiders.”
Trevare’s smile rose. “You’re more diplomatic than they give you credit for.”
“I have a good teacher.” She glanced at me, and warmth flooded my soul.
After Trevare gave us a nod and departed, we walked back to our suite, the hallways quieter now, most of Goldwing’s residents retired for the evening.
Once inside, Adele kicked off her shoes with a sigh that made me smile. “How do people walk in these things?”
“Practice. Lots of practice.” I started working the fastenings on my tunic. “Though I’d argue dragon claws are more practical.”
“Everything about you is more practical.” She turned her back to me. “Help?”
I crossed to her, releasing the intricate lacing marching down her spine. I worked slowly, brushing her skin as each section loosened. She shivered.
“Cold?” I asked, though I knew she wasn’t.
“No.” Her voice had gone soft.
When the dress finally fell away, she stepped out of it and disappeared behind a screen. I finished undressing, dimmed the lights, and slipped into bed, watching moonlight filter across crystal formations in the ceiling.
She emerged in a sleeping shift and slid in beside me, curling into my side, her head finding that spot on my chest that was made for her.
“There were times tonight when they tried to make me feel small.”
I wrapped my arm around her, pulling her closer. “You were the most brilliant person in any room. They’re too proud to admit it yet.”
“You’re biased.”
“Absolutely. Doesn’t make it less true.”
She traced patterns on my chest. “Do you think we’ll figure this out?”
“I know we will.” I caught her hand, bringing it to my lips. “Sleep, sweet. Tomorrow we’ll find answers.”
She drifted off. I stayed awake longer, holding her. This woman felt dangerously close to essential.
Morning came early. Trevare had suggested starting at dawn, and neither of us wanted to be late.
We dressed quickly in clothing we’d brought with us that had been cleaned overnight. Adele braided her hair, and I could not look away as she arranged it at her nape.
Stop staring, she said in my mind, amusement rippling through our link.
Can’t help it.
We need to go.
I know. Still can’t help it.
She threw a pillow at me, laughing. Fates, I wanted to pull her back to bed and spend the day making her laugh like that again.
But babies needed us, so we went.
Trevare met us in the main corridor with Mirabelle, who looked no warmer than yesterday. “We’ve arranged visits to six families representing different circumstances.”
Different wealth levels, he meant. I appreciated that he was at least trying to give Adele a complete picture.
The first home sat in the upper levels, where Goldwing’s wealthiest families dwelled. Gold accents everywhere, expensive furnishings, and a nursery that probably cost more than some dragon shifters earned in a year.
The parents greeted us with formal bows, their anxiety barely contained.
“Thank you for seeing us,” Adele said, pulling out her notebook.
The mother gestured to a cradle where a tiny infant slept fitfully. “She’s been like this for months. Our healers say nothing is wrong, but she can barely rest.”
The baby sneezed. Then coughed, a harsh sound that made the mother flinch.
Adele moved closer, taking notes. “How often does she cough?”
“Not as often as she sneezes, but several times an hour.” The father stepped forward. “Is that significant?”
“Everything is potentially significant.” Adele glanced at me.
I lifted the baby carefully, cradling her against my chest. She was so small, so fragile. Her face scrunched up, and she sneezed directly onto my tunic.
“Well,” I said. “She says my tunic offends her. Not enough gold embroidery.”
The mother’s tight expression cracked into a small smile.
The baby coughed again, a rattling sound that concerned me more than the sneezing.
“She’s now complaining about the temperature,” I continued, swaying gently. “Says it’s unseasonably warm for this time of year and someone should do something about it. Preferably the lady with the notebook.”
Adele bit back a smile. “Tell her I’m working on it.”