“She’s certainly no chatterbox,” Lord Tallin quips, “is she?”
My cheeks burn with indignation. Vasnan nobility is no high court; I know this. I’ve helped plow fields and fell timber with any number of our nobles, yet none would dare speak to a member of the royal family with such disrespect. I can’t help feeling both angry and humiliated.
Pressure on my hand brings me back to the moment. It’s the king, squeezing my fingers with his own.
Perhaps I’m only being fanciful, or perhaps the heat is going to my head, but the gesture seems to say,Fire back. Before I can doubt my interpretation, I fix the wyvern with a benign smile.
“Pardon my reticence, Lord Tallin. As I was taught many words are the mark of a fool, I thought it best to let you continue.”
Lord Tallin draws back, his shock evident. The man who waved his clawed wing at me actually snickers. I keep my expression neutral, though in truth, my daring astonishes me.
“So she does have some bite,” Lord Tallin says. The corner of his mouth creeps up. “How wonderful.”
“Indeed,” the king says, his hand firm against mine. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, the day advances, and I’m sure Princess Serah would appreciate some rest.”
Lord Tallin smirks. “Of course. I suppose we’ll be off then.” With a bow, he turns on his heel, his entourage in tow. The king watches them go.
“Oh,” Lord Tallin says over his shoulder, “do let me know if you tire of your pet, Soren.” The one eye angled toward us rakes over me. “She’s quite lovely.”
There isn’t even time for disgust to take hold before a snarling blur rushes by me.
9
My hand flies over my mouth as the blur splits in two and both Rally and Ty charge the wyvern lord, his attendants whirling around with wings flared wide to face the twins. They’re going to all come to blows right here in the palace courtyard on my first day in Tirenth. Over something said aboutme.
Mother would be appalled.
“Boys,” the king says in a perfectly placid tone.
Rally and Ty freeze.
“We are civilized here.”
The courtyard seems to pause, waiting for what will come. Lord Tallin’s attendants flash their bared teeth, goading the twins, and the air, stifling hot, is thickened further by the broiling tension. I resist the urge to wipe the sweat from my brow.
With obvious reluctance, Rally and Ty step back in perfect synchronicity to stand by their king. Lord Tallin grins.
“A wise choice. There’s no need for violence, is there? We seek peace.”
“Is that so?” the king asks. “Historically, your terms seem to suggest otherwise.”
“We believe our terms reasonable.”
“Belief does not equal reality.”
Lord Tallin’s lips stretch till all his teeth are exposed. “No, it does not.” His eyes flicking once more over me, he turns and makes to crouch down again as if preparing for flight.
“Lord Tallin,” the king says, the call soft as a whisper,
The wyvern looks back and cocks an eyebrow. “Yes?”
The king doesn’t charge forward or raise his voice, yet when he speaks, the quiet threat in his tone is enough to chill me to my bones.
“Insult my bride again,” he says, “and I’ll rip your mouth out.”
Lord Tallin sneers, yet he doesn’t respond.
Facing the sky, the trio extends their wings, and with a mighty flapping and a great deal of whirling dust, they take flight. I watch in muted—and begrudging—awe as they sail away.
