Page 87 of To Touch A Silent Fury
The Wragg shook his head. “Father expects your full report immediately. He is awaiting your arrival in the war room.”
Langnathin sighed. “Fine, I will make my report at once, then.” He gestured to me with a finger, as one would bid a servant. “Come, girl. Unless you wish to be skewered by Chaethor.”
I glanced up, seeing the great dragon preparing to fly once more, and hurried to the edge of the circle, where the two princes stood beside the pathway back into the castle.
As soon as I was out of her reach, Langnathin dropped his touch on her and walked towards the castle without a backwards glance. His brother followed him, matching his martial pace, though he turned to glance back at Chaethor with something akin to hunger.
The dragon pushed off, throwing herself back into the air, before rolling through the wind and curving away. She let out a huge shriek, and I flinched as she soared away. It was hard to fathom I had been riding her not minutes prior.
I followed behind the two Sightlanders, my legs like watery dough beneath me. We stepped into the shade of the castle, the stained glass atop the tower creating hexagons of purple light on the marble floor. From the top of a stone staircase, I looked over the bannister and saw it spiral all the way down to a parquet hall far below.
The men descended the stairs, speaking in low tones. I could not hear them amid the noises of the city. I wasn’t used to filtering so much out, and it was all I could do to keep up with them, as bells chimed and gulls squawked and servants rushed below.
I skimmed my hand along the smooth varnished bannister for support, and after a few levels, the men stepped down a corridor. Again, they barely checked to see if I was following, and Langnathin’s glance was bored at best. With every turn of my head, I noted more opulence: tapestries twice my height and sconces filled with fine beeswax candles. My boots sank into the plush, golden runner carpeting the hall, and I instantly became aware of my appearance.
The unpleasant feeling was made worse by the lady’s maid who passed us, then. She ducked into a beautiful curtsy as the princes passed, the skirts of her navy dress elegantly splaying out. She raised her head as I walked past, and her eyes narrowed with distaste above the black beads draped over her nose.
If I was to meet the king now, I would make a horrible impression. The Sightlands valued beauty and grace. Thread Ersimmon had impressed their rigid opinions on sightliness many times in the days before the Laithcart Massacre. A clean appearance, well-turned-out clothing, and groomed hair was the minimum.
I looked down at the boot prints I left on the perfect carpet. Braxthorn would hardly see me as a bride in my cuffed and battered coat, ill-fitting boots, and sweat-matted hair, not to mention the days of mud caked against my skin.
I wondered if that was the reason Langnathin had intended to present me tomorrow, so that I could be better turned out. Well, there was little to be done about it now.
Actually, I supposed, there was something I could do. I could cover the worst of my sins, my bare face. “Your Grace,” I said, as they paused beside wide carved doors.
Both turned to me as the two guards in full glittering plate armour reached for the door handles.
I ducked my head, addressing them both. “I noticed one of the women has her face covered with beading. Is this a custom of your people, for ladies to cover their face? Should we return when I can be properly shown to your king?”
Of course, I already knew it to be a custom. And yet, they would suspect me if I gave away too much knowledge of their people.
The Wragg scoffed. “That depends if you are a lady. You don’t look much like one.”
My face warmed as the Dragon Prince sighed. “I have nothing for you to cover your face with,” he said. “So if the king demands to see us now, then you shall be as you are.”
I nodded, my embarrassment lingering as the guards pushed open the doors. They were determined to make a common woman of me. Some surrogate, a nursemaid to the thing theyactually valued. I would have to find a way to change their impression, and fast.
The Wragg stepped into the war room. I could only see a corner of it from where I stood, a few paces back from the door, but it looked dark, the walls stained brown and candlelight wafting gently.
A voice came from inside. A tired voice wrapped in barely concealed anger. “My boys, together again. Come in, son. You look ragged.”
I watched Langnathin’s jaw flex as he turned to me and beckoned. “You wanted my report, father, and so I came without pause. I apologise for my appearance, and hers.”
“Hers?” he asked, dragging the word out into the air.
I approached Langnathin’s outstretched arm, and he dropped it as soon as I stepped up to him. His face gave nothing away, and so I looked into the room. The table commanded the room far more than the man at its side. Its intricate carvings stood out even at this distance, with pieces laid out like some game. His hand rested upon it, quivering like a leaf in Heape.
The king was narrower than I would have guessed. In his lengthening years, he now looked gaunt, his thick clothes hanging off him like a branch holding a discarded coat. His fingers bore two rings on wrinkled fingers, and his face bore a few days of stubble, sprinkled with white.
His eyes though, were far from aged. They held no milkiness nor damp blur. They were a clear ocean, bursting with sunlight and rippling with stunning blues. This blue had never known a storm; this blue was completely captivating. I wondered where Kallamont was now, and what colour eyes he had traded with the king.
I dropped into a bow, knowing I had neither the energy nor the right clothing for a curtsy to look anything but comical. “Your Majesty,” I muttered.
King Braxthorn looked at Langnathin. “If I wanted a report on the beggars at the city’s edge, I could have gone there myself.”
My ears burned as Langnathin stepped past me into the room, pushing me forwards. I stumbled in as the guards shut the doors behind us, and I realised just how dark it was in here.
Langnathin folded his arms. “I see my time away has not dulled your wit.”
