That made me want to stay, to ignore Llangard and Lord Forov and his wife and?—
And the sooner we finished negotiations, the better. The Destovians would return home, Llangard would be moreprosperous than ever, and I would spend the winter in front of cozy hearths with the person I most wanted to sit beside.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said, pleasant and detached as he rolled the seeds around in his hand. The peacock let out a shrill little sound at the movement, dipping around Aderyn’s thumb for another snack.
“I want to hear everything,” I promised.
It was still hard to leave. Impossible. I?—
I owed it to Llangard to get myself in hand. These negotiations could open opportunities for our ship captains, increase trade, draw the dragons from their mountain villages into towns more often, make us whole.
Moreover, Llangard was experiencing a time of peace and prosperity like we’d rarely known. The farmland was fertile, and there were no ornery clans along our borders to dissuade interlopers.
From all the Llangardian ambassadors in every neighboring court, we’d gotten reports of green-eyed interest in our agricultural production, and while it seemed so far that foreign courts were open to negotiation, it was only a matter of time before the scales tilted and they tried to take what we could not give.
When I found the Destovians, Rhys was already talking to Lord Forov, his tone smooth and kind, like the teacher he was.
Forov wore a pinched expression, and the sharpness in his gaze when he looked my way seemed to demand... something.
I couldn’t tell what, unless Rhys had gotten lost in storytelling again and Forov needed saving, but from the last few words I’d caught, it seemed as if he were telling Forov of the dragon clans and how they moved through the land. The wool and fish and jewels and?—
Dragons were specialists. Maddox’s clan produced the best wool our tailors had ever seen. There was a clan by theocean that caught fish in such quantities it had staggered our fishermen to learn the breadth of their skill. If something caught one of their interests, it behooved us all to get out of their way and let them do what drove them.
Rhys knew more about dragons—more about everything—than anyone I’d ever met. We were lucky he was with us.
So was the Summer Clan.
The very last thing Maddox wanted to do was crawl back into the Spires to play politics. Hells, I suspected that Aunt Gillian liked the prospect little better, even if she was more skilled at it.
Rhys, however, was as comfortable at court as any dragon I’d ever seen. He was soft-spoken and pleasant, incredibly well read. I thought the difference for him was that his life had unfolded in the Spires. He’d recovered a love he’d thought lost and discovered Tristram, a son he’d never known existed.
That wasn’t to say his life at the Hudoliaeth had been small, but there were children to read to in the Spires as well as anywhere else. He was happy and well suited to this kind of work.
As much as I tried to be, it didn’t come quite as easily to me. My mind was still with Aderyn when Forov turned my way.
“We could arrange a tour, if you’d like,” I offered. “Traveling through the mountains in winter isn’t the most comfortable, but we’ve improved our roads through the valleys in recent years. Or perhaps next time you visit?”
Forov’s mouth screwed to the side. “That’s not necessary.”
The way his eyes skimmed over Rhys struck me as oily and wrong. “We’ve come to treat with Llangard’s people, not?—”
“Dragons and humans live and work together in our kingdom. We are all Llangardain, Lord Forov,” I said with a smile on my face and perhaps too much sternness in my tone.
“Of course,” he said, returning my grin with a slick movement that placed him between Rhys and myself. “Thoughour emperor is concerned with particularly human pursuits. The return of magic to the Cavendish line, for example. How lucky that you’ve found your power once more.”
My mouth snapped shut.
Truth was, my magic had died long ago, when my uncle tried to kill me. The steps Tristram and Rhys had taken to save me had—had come at a cost.
Moreover, it was our connection to the dragons that allowed any magic at all.
Aunt Gillian’s power had blossomed as her connection to Maddox gan Halwyn grew.
When I’d had power of my own, it’d come from my bond with Tristram and encouragement from Lady Rhiannon.
And suddenly, I didn’t want Lord Forov or his Emperor Joseph to know a damned thing about that bond.
“Quite lucky,” I agreed, “though we’ve yet to find any explanation for it.”
