I nod. What could this be about? I wish I knew but can’t deny this. “I enjoy her company.”
“Along with her cunt,” Father adds with a gruff laugh.
I don’t reply. So far, I’ve limited my outright lies to my father, while hiding much of the truth. I haven’t so much as touched Princess Glorya and requesting her as my sole concubine has served us both. It saves her from being fucked by strangers, and me from risking another one of the wives telling the klericks that I abstain from sex.
“You have good taste in concubines,” Father says, and a broad grin spreads over his face. “We have decided you should wed. Clearly your instincts knew she has royal blood.”
“She does,” I say in the least committal way that I can, hoping he’ll assume I didn’t know.
“You’ll be shocked to learn that your concubine was once a Princess of Catha. When her father refused to bend the knee, I spared her life in exchange for her service to Othrix.” He says this as if I’m supposed to admire his great benevolence. As if he granted Glorya a great gift by turning her into an enslaved whore.
“Thank you, Father, but I have no desire to wed.” I actually do—I have a great desire to wed—but the woman I love already has a husband.
“Yourdesirehas nothing to do with Our decision.” Father’s expression turns fierce.
My body stiffens. He looks the same as he always did, before punishing me, when I was a boy.
“Your wedding will be held on the Feast of Othrix.”
That’s ten days away. That gives me time to find a way out of this. Things always go my way—eventually.
“As a special honor, your wedding will be held in Catha, during the audience with Othrix.”
“You know best,” I tell father, as if I don’t really care. “Perhaps, as a wedding gift, you can grant my former dragon master his pardon.”
Father frowns. I bring up this topic rarely now and fear I’ve made a mistake by doing it today.
“Making this request when We are in a good mood is cheeky,” Father says, after an unbearably long pause. “You’ve always been clever. Skilled at twisting situations to your advantage.”
Fear tightens my chest. I’ve pushed Father too far this time. But a knowing smile breaks over his face. And it’s not the cruel smile I saw every time he beat me.
He nods. “You have proved yourself loyal, my son. Far more loyal than your brothers.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
“I will consult with the Head Klerick. If he agrees, I will grant your dragon master this pardon.”
My chest expands on a stuttered inhale, but I try to disguise my elation. “Does the Head Klerick sit on this throne, or do you?” I’m truly pushing my luck by pushing him. But the klericks won’t pardon Saxon.
Father leans back in his throne. “Draft your pardon, bring it here, and I will sign it.”
“I’ll return within the hour.” I back out of the room, trying to disguise my elation. I must get the decree signed, before Father has a chance to consult the Head Klerick or change his mind.
And the moment I have the signed pardon in hand, I will leave Khotor.
Things are again going my way. On the way back to camp, I’ll visit Achotia and free Rosomon’s father and brothers.
When Rosomon and I are reunited, I’ll be a hero.
CHAPTER 41
Zogar
Ersot’s human is fierce and unyielding, but not without reason. Everything he believed was just upturned.
My wise young wife continues to explain all she can to him, while also asking more questions about Saxon’s situation, and I listen without interruption. Based on their conversation, and what Ersot has told me, this man called Treacher opposes the religious takeover. I suspect it might be only because he lost power, but it gives me hope that this man could be an ally instead of a foe.
If he proves a foe, I will burn him alive—unless Ersot asks to do it herself. Based on our discussions thus far, Ersot has mixed feelings about her human. Based on what she’s revealed, she both admires and harbors resentment toward the human who’s ridden her pommel for over twenty years. But I sense other conflicted emotions inside her.
