Tris slumped back in his seat. “Frankly, Bowen, because we’re realizing that Llangard isn’t as alone in the world as we’veso often thought. There are dozens of countries across the sea. Islands with enormous navies. An entire continent in the midst of an ugly war for land. Farmland.”
For a moment, Bowen just stood there, staring at him.
“Farmland?” I asked. “Llangard is covered with farmland. Is it rare?”
“Apparently it’s in high demand across the sea. There isn’t enough farmland to feed all the people who live there.” He glanced between Bowen and me for a moment, finally settling on me. “We’re worried, Aderyn. Not... frightened, exactly, not yet, but it would do us good to have allies like the Destovians, an empire in their own right, plenty of their own land, able to feed their own people, and with a large navy. With the ability to defend themselves, and possibly, if called upon, to help us as well. That’s why we’re putting up with them.”
“We . . . we need them?”
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before looking back up at me. “Not yet, and I hope we never do. But we are concerned. If we weren’t, we wouldn’t have put up with a moment of this nonsense.” He leaned forward, holding my gaze. “I will speak to them on this, though. If they can’t be at least respectful to our dragon population, this isn’t going to work.”
“What about...” I trailed off, but they were both looking at me. Waiting to hear what I was going to say. There was nothing but to simply say it. “What about heirs? The man this morning. He said... he said Roland needs to marry and have heirs, and I need to talk him into it.”
A meaty wooden snap made me jump in my seat, and even Bowen turned to look at Tris.
Tris. Who was looking in dissatisfaction at the broken remains of his pen. He sighed and leaned over, throwing the halves into a waste basket, then looking back at me.
“First of all, you don’t need to do anything. Not for Destovia, not for their so-called diplomats.” He held my eye until I nodded, before going on. “And Roland has heirs, Aderyn. Gillian has the twins, and if he doesn’t have children, then one of them will be the next ruler of Llangard.”
Bowen leaned against the edge of Tris’s desk with a thump, craning in, looking at Tris avidly, like he’d just done something shocking. “Even though they’re dragons?”
Tris smiled up at him, back to his usual serenity. “That they’re dragons doesn’t come into it. They’re Cavendish. Roland put forth the suggestion to make them the official heirs, and the council approved it unanimously. He didn’t need us, but not a single person complained at the idea.”
Bowen leaned back, a dreamy smile on his face.
I understood. More than any other dragon, Bowen shared my fear of humans, and the Cavendish line in particular. He was old enough that he remembered cowering in caves, hiding from Athelstan Cavendish, slayer of dragons. Monster of Windy Pass.
He understood fearing humans and thinking that we could never be allies with them. That our peoples were working together so well after hundreds of years of conflict? It was like a dream.
Just a little more than ten years earlier, Tristram’s best friend, King Reynold, had nearly executed Tris for the crime of being born a dragon.
We had come so far.
Clearly, Destovia had not.
“So,” Tris said, bringing me back to the conversation. “Roland may marry if he wishes to. But there’s no need for him to produce an heir. He already has two. And frankly, I suspect that in some years when Penrose eclipses Nye again, Gillian and Maddox might just add to that.”
I blinked in shock at the very notion, but Princess Gillian was a mage, and they were known to be long-lived. And she was still young. So why not?
Either way, it meant that the man had been wrong. Roland didn’t need to have children and I didn’t have to give him up for his own good. Right?
9
ROLAND
However much Bet wanted to shield Tris, I needed him. If for nothing else, I needed him to keep Bet from garroting Lord Forov in the baths.
Perhaps I simply needed him to tell me that everything would be fine. Tris was one of very few people who could not only speak a comforting word, but manifest it.
It seemed that I was not the only one who required his attention, though. When I reached his office, it was already occupied. At first, I only caught the movement of Bowen’s enormous back as he paced the room. Then, I saw Aderyn’s bright blond hair over the edge of the seat before Tris’s desk, and I leaned back, out of sight of the doorway.
They were discussing—me. My future.
What Llangard required.
Gods, Forov was not the only one who had my possible nuptials on their mind.
Just beyond the door, I listened in. Did Aderyn?—
