Page 8 of Lady Dragon
But why should Kirek care, especially if the princess was so soft she couldn’t defend herself against the obvious threat her brother posed? Despite risking the treaty between women and dragons, his schemes shouldn’t have mattered to Kirek unless they were a weakness to exploit. Or a strength to be wary of.
If he tried to take the throne from his sister or even his mother, would that be an advantage or a disadvantage for the dragons?
It was something worth pondering, not killing a man over. Not yet, anyway.
But she didn’t want to give the prince any ideas by appearing favorable to the proposition of peace with him before she knew either the risk or benefit it posed. Besides, Samansa had come to her defense earlier, however feebly. Perhaps Kirek owed her in return. That would explain the dragon girl’s strong reaction to his threats—born of honor, not of any misguided sense of protectiveness for the princess.
Kirek said coldly, “And that is why I, the future queen of my realm, am here—to find common ground with the future queen of this realm.” Or at least that was what she wanted them all to think. She nodded brusquely at Samansa and caught the relief that flooded the girl’s face. Kirek thought it fortunate for her that her brother wasn’t seated across from her to see it. To be so relieved meant you were worried in the first place. Worry showed your lack of confidence. Your weakness.
Confidence, this prince had in abundance. He only smiled and raised his glass to Kirek, glancing at his mother and sister. “A toast to your success, then.”
Kirek had refused wine earlier, so her cup was empty. As a servant hurried to fill it, Kirek waved her off without breaking eye contact with the prince. She speared a slice of bloody meat on her knife, raised it to him in return, and bit into it.
No onelooked terribly comfortable after that. Which was exactly how Kirek preferred it.
3
SAMANSA
Samansa managed to avoid the dragon girl for the rest of that first day, but was forced to undergo a more thorough tour of the castle grounds and the surrounding city with her on the morning of the second, before the tourney. The blue marble and white stone walls gave way to cobbled streets meandering through tall houses, many of them painted blue to mimic the queen’s keep, at least in the wealthier neighborhoods housing the lords and ladies of the upper classes and even some members of the wealthier merchant class. The dragon girl stared out of the armored carriage with cold, steely eyes, taking in the greenery of the hills beyond the city—which was perched upon the highest of them—arranged in natural formations resembling haystacks. Verdant haystacks, fuzzy with so many trees they looked covered in moss from this distance, with mist drifting between them like a stream around rocks.
“Everything is so soft, so green,” Kirek muttered, which Samansa took as yet another insult, but one not directed at her—if at her queendom—so she didn’t deign to respond.
Otherwise, the two girls—well, one of whom was a dragon—hardly spoke, only when Kirek asked Samansa to clarify an occasional point as they sat awkwardly alongside each other on thecarriage bench across from Jamsens and a scholar from the university her mother had assigned to the task. The princess wished there had been room for Dara, because then there would have been at least polite conversation or even laughter between them. Kirek held herself as rigidly as a board, and Samansa tried not to look at her. Despite the stream of information flowing from their much more qualified guide, Samansa and the dragon girl mostly seemed to be measuring each other, based on the weight of the tension between them.
One of the only other times Kirek spoke, it was to Jamsens rather than Samansa. “Shouldn’t you be training for thistourney?” She said the word the same as she hadluncheon, as if referring to an unfamiliar and perhaps absurd custom. “Prince Branon should be, unless you’re both overly confident of your skills?”
Samansa swallowed a grimace. The dragon girl wouldn’t know she was poking near a sore subject.
“Protecting the princess is my foremost duty,” Jamsens said. “Even if it keeps me from flaunting my skills in battle.” He might as well have been speaking to Branon—he sounded as tightly angry as if he were. It was an argument they’d had more than a few times. The prince had never approved of Jamsens’s devotion to the princess over military ambition.
“But you do intend to compete?” Kirek continued to prod. “If you need to be relieved of your duty while you do, I can watch the princess’s back, since she’s not competing.”
Samansa felt heat creeping up her neck. “I don’t needwatching, but in any case, of course Jamsens should compete.”
“I still need to earn your favor, do I?” Jamsens asked, his tone softening with his smile as he turned to Samansa.
Her flush only spread. “No, of course not. You have it already.”
Jamsens’s smile faded somewhat. “Nonetheless, I intend to compete.”
Kirek was watching them with those sharp eyes of hers, but Samansa remained committed in her refusal to look at her. She hoped the dragon girl wasn’t as perceptive as she seemed. It was either that, or that Kirek was as indelicate as a wild horse loosed in a glasshouse—or both—since she’d managed to bring uptwosore subjects in the span of a brief conversation.
While Samansa appreciated the dedication her captain of the guard possessed, his devotion might be a littletoomuch even for her. And her favor, as it currently stood, not enough for him.
Not that she was certain of Jamsens’s feelings. And the dragon girl didn’t understand the first thing about the situation, either, no matter how knowing her shining eyes seemed to be for the rest of the ride.
The tourney was held in a small arena within the castle grounds and not open to the public, for which Samansa was grateful, even if it wasn’t done out of consideration for her shyness. It was Kirek’s first appearance before anyone but the royal family and their attendants, and so it was kept small for her sake—more of a private pageant than an actual competition, in truth.
Which the dragon girl was, of course, quick to remark upon.
“The weapons aren’t even sharp?” Kirek asked, her silver eyes squinting as two nobles’ sons were the first to square off in the arena below, raising their blades before each other after bowing to the queen and princess.
“Of course not,” Samansa said, her pique turning to confusion. “But how could you tell?”
“Then what’s the point?” Kirek demanded, ignoring the question and gesturing to where the two of them sat next to each other in the stands upon cushioned wooden chairs under a silk awning to shield them from the sun, the posts twined with vines and flowers. Fortunately, the queen was seated well behind them, out of ear—and accidental weapon—shot, while Samansa and Kirek presided over the event, their chairs positioned like a pair of thrones—making the two of them like a pair ofqueens, which was a strange thought—at the forefront of the stands without even Dara or anyone else at their sides and only the railing before them. The competition was in honor of the dragon girl, even if the prize was Samansa’s favor, so their prominence was intentional—not to mention their proximity. They were supposed to be strengthening diplomatic ties, after all. Kirek no doubt thought the decorations and positioning were as pointless as the rest of it—especially the princess’s favor—though Samansa thought their awning’s blossoms were lovely, especially the soft petals scattered over the platform all around them.
So much for trying to impress the dragon. Samansa was already doing a dismal job of it, and it seemed humanity was, in general.
