Page 101 of To Touch A Silent Fury
I’m certain she does not see it that way.
Septillis cleared his throat. “Perhaps there is another path to her favour.”
Braxthorn touched the Brother’s shoulder, a fatherly gesture he has never bestowed on me. He was always too enamoured with the Moontouched, believing every word from their mouths. It was nothing more than mimicry, in my mind. He knew how Stormnoon’s visions had favoured his grandfather, King Praevontil, at least before his end. How the Moontouched had forged his reputation, his legacy. “What say you, Septillis?”
Septillis spoke slowly, as if measuring every word. “I have met with the girl. Then, last night, she appeared to me in a vision.”
I stiffened. So they had reunited. He must have known her as readily as I had, or more, given their time together. I studied him with all the perks of my own Sight, and that of Chaethor’s. The two men in the city who knew her for what she truly was.
“What did you see?” The hunger in my father’s question was too transparent. Another great king advised by a fortune-telling boy. There was precedent, but little originality. What moniker did he hope for, I wondered. Braxthorn the Wise? The Great?
Septillis closed his eyes, as if seeing it again. “She wore a white dress in the throne room. It seemed to be her wedding day.”
Braxthorn frowned. “Her wedding? In our castle?”
Septillis nodded, opening his white eyes again. “The girl is unmarried and untethered. We should strengthen her ties to our kingdom. With a husband and a babe-in-arms, I cannot foresee that she would leave.”
That was his angle. I wondered if Septillis’ own hand might soon be offered. After all these years, he clearly still held a torch for her.
I could not imagine she had signed off on this idea. Tanidwen had expressed no suggestion of wanting to marry. Septillis must have decided himself that marrying her off was the best way to keep her heart beating.
It wasn’t the worst plan, and it didn’t rely on her killing any Euphons to do it.
Braxthorn stared at him, running his tongue into his cheek. “An interesting theory, albeit costly, to throw away a possible political alliance.”
“Would this not also be a valuable political alliance?” Septillis returned calmly.
My father turned his ring on his narrow finger. “I take your point. But who would you choose for her?”
He glanced at me. “The princes are both unwed.”
I spluttered. SeptillisknewI had Broken the girl. Derynallis might have pulled him from the arena that day, but he knew what I had done and what it had meant. How could he even consider forcing her to wed me?
“Hah!” Braxthorn’s laughter mirrored my own incredulity. “You cannot be serious, Septillis. To match a prince with a destitute Soundlander. What message would that send to the Triad?”
He nodded. “I understand it would be an uncommon match, Your Majesty. But you have the value of dragons already, and you do not understand the wants of those without. Those around you covet them, jealously. When your allies and enemies alike hear of the girl, you may be sure they will make her an offer themselves.”
Braxthorn frowned now. Septillis had struck true, finding the heart of my father’s insecurity.
“You think she will receive proposals from other lands?” Braxthorn asked.
Septillis only inclined his head once more, deferential to the end. “Everyone has seen the might of your reign, Braxthorn, and they know the reins you hold are part of that. They may wish to take the girl, and her dragon, from you.”
Banrillen grunted. “Then we make her bend the knee, as a soldier.”
I rolled my eyes. “Women cannot pledge such an oath.”
“I will think on it,” Braxthorn said. “Write me a list of our unwed nobles. I’m sure a low-ranking lord would seem as much like a prince to her as any other.”
Septillis grimaced, but only barely. I would not have noticed if I had not been studying him with the attentiveness of a hawk. “Very well, Your Majesty.”
I sighed, staring between them all with an emotion I could not place.
Four men discussing a woman’s future with the ignorance of pigs,Chaethor said, echoing the same feeling.
I disliked my aunt at the best of times, but she would at least add a calculating discernment to this picture.
Braxthorn eyed my sigh with distaste. “What is that noise, son? Speak, if you have something to say.”
