Chapter Six
IN ALL OF my visits to Dyēus over the years, I’ve never had any desire to go to the west wing.
The moment I learned that’s where the Sar Dyēus most often kept himself, I steered clear.
I’ve already raised enough flags for him; first with being undesirable and second by being chosen by Alixor, anyway.
Who’s to say what might happen to me if I caused any more trouble for him than I already had.
The hall leading into the west wing is wide and quiet.
From the smooth floors to the sharp detailing adorning the tops of the columns, to the sloped concave arches of the ceilings, everything is a pristine white, like glistening round clouds on a sun filled day.
But as beautiful as it is, it feels empty, desolate.
Entering the hall, I hear the babble of little mouths, the cries and screams of babes.
It’s the only thing that feels alive in this space and I hurry down the halls towards it, not another soul in sight.
I peek around the doors to the nursery and see a tall figure standing by the windows on the opposite side of the room.
I duck away before I can tell who it is, hoping I wasn’t seen.
Of course a nursemaid would be here. Someone had to watch over the children after all.
I only hope she’ll let me see my nephew.
Slowly this time, I step into the opening and stop in my tracks, motionless as a stone column.
Not a nursemaid after all, but the Sar Dyēus, looking over a small bundle in one of the cots.
I take a step back, sure he didn’t see me, hoping he didn’t hear my approach, when his voice—deep, melodic, pleasant—floats over to me.
“Come to see what’s in store for you?” He lifts his head, my gaze captured by a pair of dark eyes.
Every hair along my spine and the back of my neck stands at attention. My voice is trapped in my chest, but I swallow and decide to go for the truth. “My sister’s child.”
“He’s lovely,” he says, turning back to the baby.
My breath stills. My sister’s baby. He’s looking at my sister’s baby. I have the sudden urge to bare my teeth. “That’s him?”
A strong, smooth pale hand raises, silently beckoning me over.
I hesitate, but I want to see my nephew, and it’s not as if I can deny the Sar Dyēus in any case.
So I step inside the nursery and stand across the cot from our great ruler.
My nephew sleeps soundly, his cheeks rosy and round.
My body relaxes as I stare at him for a long while, momentarily forgetting the Sar Dyēus’s presence until he speaks again. “You know Alixor has tried before.”
I tense, hoping he doesn’t notice. I didn’t know that, nor does it matter.
Not to me. I lift my head and find him staring at me, his black eyes not exactly black, but a deep, deep green.
I’ve never been this close to him before to have noticed.
Even during my selection ceremony, there was more distance, more darkness between us.
His hair, longer on top than it is on the sides and at the nape of his neck, is starting to lose hold of its usual slicked back look. I don’t dare respond.
“Perhaps it was the woman. Perhaps it was him,” he goes on.
Still I don’t speak. His lips, full and wide, tremble—annoyed, amused, or about to say more, I’m not sure.
“He won’t like to fail again.”
I was never supposed to be chosen. I was marked as undesirable.
So, why would Alixor choose me if failure to produce offspring wasn’t an option for him again?
Anger rises in me, swift and hot. “Perhaps he should have taken that into consideration when he chose an undesirable breeding partner,” I seethe, and the next words slip off my tongue unbidden.
“Someone must have made a mistake.” His hand flexes at my insinuation and bile churns my gut.
His eyes narrow, then he walks around the cradle only to pause at my shoulder.
His scent reminds me of the wind when it comes from the sea in spring mixed with something earthy, like well-worn leather.
He leans down, close to my ear. “Dragons have a keen sense of smell, you know. We can scent a great number of things. When you’re fertile, and when you’re not, for instance. When your body is ready and willing.”
My pulse is a flutter in my veins at his words, his nearness. The vial sits uncomfortably between my breasts. He doesn’t know. He can’t know.
“So I’ve heard,” I say, my voice coming out breathless.
“See that you remember.” As he straightens, the backs of his fingers ghost against mine.
My eyes flick down, catching him pull away and flex his hand.
Slowly, I twist my head to look up to his face, but he stares ahead.
“The nursemaids will return soon. Be sure that you’re gone by the time they do,” he says, then walks from the room.
When he disappears, I cast my eyes around, finally taking in the nursery.
Babies lay asleep or sitting up awake in their cots.
More empty beds line the far walls on both sides, and another opening reveals a gaggle of carefree toddlers corralled in a large enclosed space with low climbing structures and wooden toys.
A woman rushes by, chasing one of the toddlers, but she doesn’t notice me.
I place a hand on my nephew, to make sure he’s real, because what just happened felt an awful lot like a dream.
Or a nightmare. I puzzle over the Sar Dyēus’s words, what he meant about Alixor and what it means for me.
I think about the vial tucked between my breasts and the scent of the contraceptive while it was being made—could he smell it on me?
Doom twists my insides into knots. I may have made a great and terrible mistake.
Heeding the Sar Dyēus’s words, I don’t linger in the nursery.
The banquet for Alixor’s and my breeding ceremony will begin in the late afternoon and lead into the evening.
I don’t do much to get ready except allow the attendant who showed up to apply cosmetics to my face.
I tell her to leave my hair, which she argues against, and tries to help me dress, which I also don’t allow.
Once she’s gone, I undress and hide the tincture under the pillow on the bed.
I know I’m close to fertility and I’ll need to take a dose before Alixor does anything tonight, but it’s still too early to use it.
The floor-length dress left for me crisscrosses at my chest around my neck, much like my shirt did, but leaves my back and sides fully exposed.
The front is arranged in such a way that it covers my marking, though there is a strip of my low belly showing before the skirt begins, flaring out from my hips with slits along both legs starting at the top of my thigh.
The fine material, silky and shimmering, is the perfect match to Alixor’s bronze dragon scales.
I’m frowning at my reflection in the mirror when there’s a knock on my door before it opens.
Alixor’s eyes rove my figure.
“You didn’t wait. What if I was naked?” I ask.
“Well then all the better.” He smirks, coming up behind me to wrap his arms around my abdomen and place a kiss against my neck. “However, you are breathtaking like this, as well.”
“Thank you.”
“And what about me?” he asks, pulling away and backing up with his arms out so I can look him over.
Truly, not much is different except his clothes have a little more ornamentation than usual.
His suit is dark blue silk with ornate stitching along the arms and sides of the legs, his tailored jacket open to the crisp short-collared shirt beneath.
His hair, the same bronze of his scales, is a carefully swept back look that plays well off the angles of his face.
“You look fit for a banquet that precedes you bedding your carremai,” I answer honestly.
As I expect, his head jolts back in a hearty laugh. “Your directness is a delight as always. Are you ready?” I nod and he guides me by my lower back out the door into the hall, his gaze drinking me in all the while.
I set a pleasant smile on my face. I’m beginning to wonder if I can handle his attention for more than a few weeks.
Alixor leads us down the open-air colonnade and the soft breeze carries the rich, green smell of Dyēus’s lush gardens and trees.
I inhale deeply and detect the barest hint of the dry, earthy Sere, reminding me of home.
I hope it won’t be long before I see it again.
We reach the end of the colonnade and we enter the dining hall.
The early evening air sifts through the high arched openings along the back and sides of the room, making the sheer cream and white drapes dance against the columns.
The polished white floors glitter gold against the sinking sun.
The blue of the sky glistens as it passes through the dragon glass windows set in circular panes of the vaulted ceiling above.
I take in a fortifying breath, tasting the salt of the sea on the white puffy clouds sliding against the edge of the balcony.
The clouds rarely travel into the Sere, stopping here instead to drop every ounce of precious rain on Dyēus.