Page 94 of To Touch A Silent Fury
I took a step towards her, and saw her tense. “I’d like for her to choose me, too. Not necessarily for love. But I would want her to know me. Tolerate me. See me as a partner and not a tool.”
As I said those final words, I took another step, and Tanidwen froze. I stopped, not really knowing what I was thinking. She looked nervous.
Immediately, I stepped back. I didn’t know why I had even approached her. I thought we were playing a game together. A cool wind passed through, and I glanced up to the moon, already shifted in the sky overhead. “As I said, it matters not what I would want.”
She bit her lip, and my body reacted. “You truly believe your father will give you no choice?”
I shrugged, every part of me confused. She hated me. She must, and yet… I could never hate her. There was more than guilt and pity. I was attracted to Tanidwen, even knowing how fruitless it was. My voice was defeated even to my own ears. “Oh, I will have the illusion of choice. Already he positions his favourites, whispers in their mothers’ ears. I imagine I will have a choice between two brides, three if I am well-behaved.”
She heard this, and her voice was detached in its response. “And you will choose one of them?”
I stared at her, somehow knowing whatever we were doing here was on the brink of ending. I felt her pulling away, and I used every second I had to watch her fascinating eyes. They were entirely captivating. “I suppose we will find out.”
She nodded. “And what is your father’s list for your blushing bride, do you think?”
Here, she betrayed a rare ignorance. The answer was as clear as the lifeless pool beside us, and just as man-made. “Power,” I said. “It is always power. Whoever has the ability to grant him the most, or take the most away. That is who he will choose.”
25
Tani
The tailor was kneeling at my feet the very next morning, taking the measurement of my leg, when one of the guards entered the room. Tall, pale, and well-groomed, he was the model of the Sightlander look. He was also the one I didn’t like very much. His name was Wainstrill, and he was prone to scowls. I hadn’t expected a royal welcome, but he clearly resented his posting.
“The King’s Advisor is here to see you.”
I nodded as the tailor straightened. “Thank you, give us one minute.”
Wainstrill shot me one of his signature looks. “As you say.”
It was forty-six days until Heape. Forty-six days before Langnathin was engaged to another, and forty-six days before they tried to take my dragon from me.
In the first hour of my time in these rooms, I had memorised every aspect of them. They were the grandest private rooms I had ever beheld. Though, given the cold greeting from the king,I was certain they were not intended to be received so. A hall, not eight feet long and decorated simply with a golden rug, widened into the main bedroom, which contained a large double bed bedecked with cushions stuffed with real feathers and a mattress so soft it felt criminal. The bed was laden with white sheets and an embroidered red quilt, and my dragon had spent most of his time curled up against it. The smaller room off the hall contained a full-sized metal bath and a chamber pot, and the two windows across from me now let in the golden morning light.
When I arrived, I had barely done more than stumble in, awestruck, and fallen promptly to sleep in my clothes. On the second day, I sat in front of the demure carved table, complete with a large piece of mirrored glass set into a decorative wooden setting, and stared at myself. I hadn’t seen more than a reflection in a pond for a span, and it humbled me more than my pride will admit. I bathed repeatedly.
Now, after two full days here, my adulation had faded to a quiet appreciation and niggling sensation of restriction. I made no mistake that I was trapped here. In part, by my attachment to the dragon I could not bear to leave but did not want to parade before the eyes of the castle staff. And in part, by their distrust of me. My guards were as much jailors as they were doormen.
The tailor grabbed his bag, pulling the tapes and scrawled notes into it with deft hands as his floppy brown curls fell over his eyes. “Normal clothing in your general size will arrive post-haste, my lady. However, you understand that the ball is in only six days. I won’t have time to make you a dress from scratch, but I can alter something.” He looked galled at the need to offer this and bowed his head in shame. “It will fit you perfectly.”
“I am sure it will be beautiful, sir,” I said. “May I still wear this?” I pulled my moonstone away from my chest. Yvon hadtold me it would protect me, and I couldn’t bear to be parted from it on the night when I was to be dancing with vipers.
He blinked, then reached for it unabashed, turning it in his palm. “I will give you a new cord for it, if you would be willing to wear it as a bracelet?”
I bowed my head, feeling a spike of relief. “Thank you.”
The tailor bobbed, and turned on his shining heel. I smiled as the guard opened the door for him to leave. Plonius, his name was. He was the first stranger since my arrival to treat me with an ounce of respect. It was almost as much of a relief as my first warm bath here. He had been firm, and yet respectful, telling me what he needed. Any urgency seemed to come from his own fidgety nature, rather than cruelty.
I had not expected him so promptly. Dawn had cracked its yolk on the sky only an hour before his arrival. I wondered what that meant for Langnathin. Had he ordered him that very night? Or woken at dawn to send him? The memory of our meeting had plagued my slumber as readily as the Nox. I’d tossed and turned, replaying it over and over. Without touch, I could only guess at his feelings, but his words had sounded honest, his countenance respectful. Why the kindness? Why the visit at all?
Then the reality of my situation hit. Braxthorn’s advisor awaited me. Almost certainly a Brother of Eavenfold. In fact, I believed I had heard of his elderly companion, a cousin or uncle to the royal family. He could not suspect me; I would not have him unravelling my plans.
I went to smooth down my clothing only to realise there was no point, then hastened to the vanity mirror. I took myself in, and other than looking tired, given the early hour of the day and my lack of sleep, I looked fine.
My dull brown hair was finally clean after three separate washes, and it shined in the morning sun. I focused on the roots, seeing the tiniest growth of pure white hair. It was barelynoticeable, and at first glance, with my blue eyes and darker hair, you would never think to study it further.
I had wished not to meet the old man until I had something better to wear, but it seemed that would not be the case. I glanced at the bed, my dragon stretching in a patch of sun, no doubt ready to doze the day away, and smiled despite my racing heart.
Wainstrill opened the door, and I noticed the man’s shocking white hair first as he stepped inside. I had remembered correctly, then. A Brother of Eavenfold. He mumbled thanks as Wainstrill closed the door, and I moved out of the glare of the sun to see him better as he turned from the door.
