Valenna
The dove-gray light of a cloudy morning peered through the curtains and found Evander and Valenna still asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. Valenna awoke first and lay comfortably pressed into his side, one of her smooth legs draped over his, and her head nestled on his shoulder. She watched him sleep, breathing in the gorgeous mundanity of waking up beside her husband in a quiet inn, their clothes scattered across the floor, all thoughts of magical potions and distant wars forgotten.
Evander stirred, pulling her closer and kissing the top of her head.
“Good morning, husband,” she whispered.
“Good morning, Mistress Trevelyan. Or do you want to keep Castanaia?”
“As it’s a fake name anyway, I’m not attached to it,” she said, nestling her head under his chin. “I like Mistress Trevelyan.”
“What should we do today?” he asked.
“Well.” She ran her finger along his jaw. “I was thinking perhaps we could begin the day by working out how to keep you alive for a few more years.”
“Or we could stay right here and enjoy a more interesting activity.”
She rolled on top of him. “We could do both,” she said, and kissed him.
The sun was bright in the room when they decided it was time to get up.
Evander pulled on his trousers and went downstairs to get breakfast from the barman, and Valenna rose to dress. As the purple dress formed to her body, her peaceful sense of well-being soured.
What if they couldn’t find the wyvern bone powder? What if no one would sell it to them?
What had been desperation before turned to madness. Yesterday, she had loved Evander. Today, she was bound to him, body and soul. She had no idea how wild that kind of love could be, how reckless.
“I will get that wyvern bone powder,” she said to herself, “if I have to burn this whole wretched place to the ground.”
A light knock startled her, and Valenna crossed the room and opened the door. Sybil stood in the shadowy corridor, her arms laden with canvas bags.
“Good morning,” she said. “I’ve brought some clothes for you.”
Valenna stepped aside, and the woman passed her into the room. “I’m sorry to bother you on your wedding morning. I waited downstairs until I saw your husband come for breakfast. Did he like the shirt?” she asked, handing Valenna the bags.
Peering inside, Valenna was met with a strong aroma of lavender. “Yes. It suits him well.”
“Don’t let him take it off. Trust me. It saw my husband through two terrible wars. Now, I’ve kept these dresses for years. They belonged to your mother.”
Valenna dropped the bag, the contents spilling onto the floor.
Sybil gasped, then knelt stiffly and gathered the clothes, glaring at Valenna like she’d dropped a baby. “I’ve guarded these dresses for twenty years. Watched over them, cleaned them, scented them. Handle them with care.”
“I’m sorry,” Valenna said, mortified. “I just … where on earth did you get them?”
Sybil struggled to gain her feet, so Valenna grasped her elbow and helped her to the chair. Once she was seated, Sybil smoothed her apron and said, “I was your mother’s seamstress and her lady of fashion.”
So many questions swarmed Valenna’s mind, she couldn’t snatch one and hold it down.
“I served as her companion as well,” Sybil continued. “I spent every day with your mother. I knew her every thought and wish. When you were born, I held you in my arms even before your father did.”
“Tell me about her?” Valenna asked. Sorrow overshadowed her excitement. She could not think of her mother without grief.
Sybil smiled. “She was a radiant woman. Beautiful, like yourself, and she brought spring to our wasteland home so we could live and tend the dragons. She would kneel under the dragon willow, and the sunbird would sing over her as her tears spread springtime.”
“And what happened to her?” Valenna wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer, but the question tumbled out of her nonetheless.
“Your mother was a kind woman, and gentle, and not very political. When she found out that the dragons she was selling to Ashkendor were being used to make weapons, she demanded Marwenna meet her in Allagesh—a neutral kingdom—and told her that she would be cutting off the dragon trade withAshkendor. Marwenna was furious. Tahlia never returned from their meeting, and neither did her guards. Marwenna sent their bloodied clothes to your father as a declaration of war. The next day, the first dreadnoughts dropped scattershot on Talwaith, and we were forced to flee soon after.
