Page 109 of To Touch A Silent Fury
I glowered at the door. “Wainstrill hates me.”
Seth stepped over to the other side of my reading desk. “I don’t think he likes me much better, though he’s better at hiding it.” He played with the feather of my quill, which I had left gathering ink in the well. “He’s my mother’s man, and unfortunately, I think he has the misfortune to be enamouredwith her. He hates everyone she distrusts, which, to be frank, is a vast number of people.”
“They aren’tlovers, are they?” I asked, dropping my voice in a scandalised whisper.
“I can only hope it is one-sided,” he replied with a groan.
“But she’s twice his age.”
“Please, I don’t want to think about it anymore than I already have.” He tapped the open book in front of me. “I’d rather talk about what you’re reading.”
“I’m trying to learn more about dragons. Did you know that dragon scales darken as they get older? Isn’t that fascinating?” I grinned. “Langnathin gave me some—”
“Langnathin,” he echoed, “has been giving you books?”
“He has been strangely kind to me. Well, he has been kind to Vorska. So far.”
“You could have askedme,” he said.
“I can hardly seek you out, can I?” I replied, cutting any true harshness from the question with a smile. “I’m a prisoner, remember. Glorified dragon wet nurse.”
“That’s not quite true,” Seth said.
I raised an eyebrow. “If I had come here with a dragon old enough to bear my death without dying himself, do you believe they would have let me live?”
Seth blanched. “He’s bonded to you. And I’ve never heard of a dragon rebonding, so without you… he would be pretty useless.” Then he shook his head. “I—I don’t know. It depends if they truly believed they could tame you.”
“Let us hope they believe I am docile, then.”
Seth grimaced, reaching his hand out to me. With ink-stained fingers I took it, feeling his guilt and reassurance melt into me.
I changed the subject, knowing I had most likely prodded a wound that had festered long enough. “Trust me, I would haverather asked you for books, but you are the King’s Advisor. You already had to invent a reason to come here.”
“Well,” Seth said, his emotions stabilising. “It is true that you don’t know much about a Sightlands ball.”
“Wear some beads and try not to step on any toes,” I replied. “How much more is there?”
“You still intend to go ahead with your plan, then?” Seth asked.
“I do.”
“Marrying Langnathin. It would be another cage. Another island you long to escape.” There was no jealousy on him yet. He only spoke from concern and a need to understand.
“It would be power. The ability to change things in this world for the better.”
“What would you change?”
I thought of my homeland, and the way the Triad looked upon us. Of a forgotten Founder and stolen lands. Then Eavenfold, and its Nox-ridden past that echoed deep in its walls and haunted its children. Finally, the Soundlands. The smear of dirt scarring the forest floor. A dragon’s corpse dragged from its resting place. Sollie, screaming alone from sounds no one else could hear. Of the Sons of Amune, who lived in fear of the Triad’s detection.
Suffering existed everywhere I had been. I met Seth’s white eyes. “I would advocate for peace.”
He studied me, our hands still clasped. “Peace is a messy journey.”
“War is messier.”
His compassion flickered, and I felt his desire to ask me more about my time in Gossamir. But he did not. “That I cannot argue with. But Langnathin? Is Braxthorn’s son truly the route to peace?”
“He is not so bad,” I said. “I don’t think he wants to be his father. The way he talks…”
