Page 119 of To Touch A Silent Fury
“More and more recently.”
I raised an eyebrow. “The thane welcomes you?”
Pride blossomed in him as he leaned in once more. His breath was unpleasantly hot. “The thane needs us.”
I nodded, and made no comment. Ivangor, Thane of Sellador, was not popular with the tribes. The Euphons called him a traitor. He controlled everything west of the Ramelon River, including the port on Oktorok Lake. If he was welcoming Banrillen, then the tensions between the Sellador Thane and the Euphonos King must be higher than ever.
The Wragg stared at my chest as he spoke. “Sorry, Vorska. Politics is no place for women.”
I nodded once more, pandering to him until he would leave me alone. “No, of course. I would not understand it anyway, Your Grace.”
“I would not want you to.” He smirked. “Your duty will be to your husband, and him alone.”
By my blood, he didn’t think… No. Why wouldthisprince ever want me? This was only the second time we had spoken, and in the first he had accused his brother of creating a bastard within me. “My husband?”
Frustration flared. “You are an unwed beautiful woman. You will marry. You do want to marry, don’t you?”
“Yes,” I replied immediately. “Yes, I do.”
“Good.” His exasperation dimmed as his feelings simmered back to the pot of nastiness they had been before. There was no peace in his pulse, no driver I could feel but hate.
The dance was nearly over when he thought about speaking again. “What think you of my brother?”
“The Dragon Prince?” I asked, as if I had not thought of him every hour for the last five years of my life. “In truth, he scares me.”
It was the wrong answer. I had hoped I might dissuade the Wragg from any notion of a connection between us, but apparently, a fear of him was not the way.
His resentment was as hot as the sun. “Why?”
I kept my answer clipped, scared of his response. “His reputation, his dragon.”
“I should scare you more.”
I had never felt envy and anger like it. It consumed him entirely; it motivated his every thought. This must have been why he asked me to dance, why he gave me the ribbons. He sensed something between his brother and I, or some benefit he might gain from me.
He needed to win, to beat him. I was a tool in that; I saw it now. His victory had not been in my acceptance, but in depriving his brother. Somehow I was caught in their war, and it was the last place I wanted to be.
I feigned confusion. “Your Grace?”
“His dragon is a tame thing he uses wrong,” the Wragg spat. “With therightcontrol, therighthands on the reins, a dragon could be far more fearsome than Chaethor.”
My blood ran cold. The right control, clearly in his mind, was his own. I saw through it in a flash: he wanted to control me and my dragon. He wanted to hold my own reins.
I said none of that. “I’m not sure I’m understanding you, Your Grace.”
“I would not expect you to.” His bitterness was still boiling over as he looked at me with false kindness. “It is fine, everything will be taken care of.”
The maestros ended, and there was nothing I wanted more than to pull myself straight from his grip. Instead, I held my body still as he softly pulled his hand away from mine, lingering against my fingertips.
He finally removed his hand from my spine, and I struggled not to back away. “I hope I may dance with you again, before the evening closes.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.” I dipped my head, knowing I would leave within the hour, and he would have no such opportunity. I had been away from my dragon long enough. “It would be my pleasure.”
On the outside, I smiled and turned, walking carefully away towards a refreshing drink. The picture of a guest pleased to have been selected by a prince for a dance. What anhonour.
Inside, my chest burned with its own pot of vexations. How dare he? Even if I was the simpleton he expected me to be, it was ridiculous to believe I would be so easily manipulated by so clumsy a man. He was a lumbering axe, and his idea of politics was to slam a hand on a table and let the pieces topple where they may.
I would never listen to him.
