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. Hecan’tknow.
“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 justhappened felt an awful lot like a dream. Or a nightmare. I puzzle over the Sar Dyeus’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 Dyeus’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 withornate 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 Dyeus’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 Dyeus.
In the center of the room, there’s a long table, around which about thirty guests are seated. The pale wood table never ceases to amaze me. There’s no tree around Nevoba to have created it. I try and fail to imagine how large and grand it must have been, alive and full with leaves or fruit. Currently, the table overflows with dragon glass vases brimming with white and orange-gold flowers, gauzy citrine runners and bowls of fruit, while goblets of water and wine catch the light. At the head of the table sits the Sar Dyeus. There’s quite a bit of space separating him from the rest of the hoard, but seated on his left is Selnor, and on hisright, Thrace, with two empty seats next to him meant for myself and Alixor. The rest of the seats are filled with the remaining elites and their carremai, or a guest of choice. I’ve heard banquets like these for the lower ranking dragons and collectors are more casual, and located on whatever island they call home. Being a carremai of an elite though, these banquets are more of a formal production, and the only kind I’ve ever witnessed.
Our presence is announced and all except the Sar Dyeus rise at our entrance. Praise is given to our coupling, and prayers are spoken to Erovosvis to honor our mating and bless my womb, to Eretex to protect our future brood, to Eriratem so that they are well in nature and in their creation. I let the words float past my ears as Alixor and I stand there. I keep my chin high, my eyes on the circular opening to the sky above the Sar Dyeus’s head. Once the prayers have been read, we are lead to our seats and stringed instruments begin to softly play. I cast my gaze back towards the entrance, and see women tucked against the only solid wall in the room, playing the soothing tunes.
Alixor reaches to pull out my seat for me, but Thrace is swifter, standing to offer me the seat beside him. Clearly he wants me there for a reason, and I have no reason to object. Alixor’s smile is tight as he moves to push me in, then takes the seat beside me. The elites to his right immediately engage him in conversation. I do my best to avoid looking in the Sar Dyeus’s direction. I can feel Thrace’s eyes on me, like he wants to say something. Touching the tines of my fork with the tip of my finger, I push hard, feeling the bite of pressure against my skin. “Kalixta and the girl are well, in case you care.”
His shoulders relax a fraction, betraying the tension they held. “It’s good to hear that.”
I wait for him to say more, because it looks like he wants to, but out of the corner of my eye I see the Sar Dyeus’s attention is on us. On me.
My heart skitters like a rock across the ground, but dwelling on him and his presence takes away from this opportunity to speak with Thrace while Alixor is occupied.
Before I can even begin, Thrace leans in and whispers into my ear so quietly that there’s no way the shifters around us hear a thing, since I’m hardly able to make him out. “I am glad she’s healing, but if I know Kalixta, she’s not well. How is she really?”
Does he know her? Maybe he does understand my sister better than I do—he’s spent more time with her than I have these many years. I release the fork, running my thumb over the indentations in my finger as our first course is presented. A thin broth, light in flavor, with tiny droplets of spiced oil glistening on top. “She’s wondering why you haven’t sent word.” If I wasn’t watching him, I’d miss his expression, as if I punched him in the gut rather than spoke the truth.
“I’ve tried, but I’m being kept on a tight leash.”
My gaze flits over to the Sar Dyeus. He’s no longer looking at us, but I keep my voice low. “What have you done?”
Thrace huffs out a laugh. “A great many things. Some that I hope are never discovered, not the least of which being actually falling in love with your sister.”
My breath halts.Liar. Dragons don’t love. Not really. They wouldn’t steal our children, then abandon us, leaving us heartbroken if that were true. I scan the room, quick and thorough, but no one pays us any mind. “I don’t know why you feel the need to pander to my emotions.”
“I don’t know why you feel the need to dismiss mine.”
