15

The dinner is interminable. I'm seated near the King—not directly next to him, thank the Bone-Builder—but near enough. According to our forged papers, Meridian and Hinarax have noble titles, so they're allowed to sit with me rather than dining at a secondary table or in the servants' quarters. Apparently it's quite common for human princes to have lords as their esquires or attendants.

The fork I must use is larger and heavier than the one I practiced with in the rebels' hideout. I take bites slowly, giving myself time to adjust to the difference. The food tastes delicious, but I can barely swallow it with the fucking King of Vohrain sitting at the end of the table, a mere four chairs away from me. I try not to picture myself transforming into a great black dragon, crashing into the center of the table, and ripping him in half with my jaws.

If I keep imagining my own transformation, it will happen, and then all will be lost. So I attempt to focus on Meridian's inane jabber. He's engaged in lively conversation with the Vohrainian lord across from him. There's a handful of Vohrainian nobility mixed in with the Elekstan nobles, easily distinguished by their pierced septums, each featuring a gold or silver ring, some set with tiny gems. Rahzien is the only one with a scarlet gem in a gold ring.

Meridian and Norril never mentioned the possibility of other Vohrainian nobles being in the palace. But I suppose it makes sense that some of them would be part of Vohrain's army, and thus invited to such a feast. It's odd that Meridian is being so conversational with one of the enemy. He's so perfectly at ease, it's unsettling.

"My brother used to dabble in potions," he says cheerfully to the Vohrainian lord. "Usually with rather explosive results. Unintended, of course. Nearly blew himself up several times, truth be told. It's a fascinating art, but both potion-making and spellcasting are skills far beyond my talents. We have some sorcerers in Zairos, but probably none that would rival the ones you have in Vohrain."

"We have very few sorcerers in Vohrain," replies the lord.

"Oh." Meridian looks puzzled. "One of the servants mentioned a rumor about a magical link between the King and the conquered Princess, which sounds both sexy and fascinating. I just assumed—"

"Assumptions are for asses," says the lord caustically.

"Of course, of course. It must be an Elekstan sorcerer who cast the spell for him, then. I've heard that Elekstan's magic is astonishing! Perhaps that's why it took so long for His Royal Majesty to conquer them."

The lord bristles. "Vohrain excels in all things, and the conquest took place as planned, on schedule. We may not have many sorcerers in our land, but when it comes to subduing a wayward princess, all you need is one, as long as that one has a skillful hand and an eye for creative solutions. "

"Of course, of course," says Meridian. "And it helps to have plenty of ingredients on hand, though they might be difficult to come by in a time of upheaval such as this."

"The King keeps his poisoner well supplied, even here," replies the lord. He seems as if he's about to say more, but the fish course arrives. Platters are set down at intervals along the table so the guests can enjoy the presentation of the huge, whole fish, each one boasting a pair of glossy black eyes and a jutting jaw set with long, curved teeth.

"Razorfish from the palace's own pool," says Rahzien. "Freshly fattened this morning." He grins as a servant carefully lays a flaky portion of fish on his plate.

I've never liked fish, though I've eaten them when game was scarce. I haven't learned the human method for dining upon fish, so when a servant attempts to give me a portion, I shake my head. "No."

"His Highness ate too much fish during our voyage," interjects Meridian with a chuckle. "He's weary of it."

"I'll take his portion and mine as well," offers Hinarax. When he's served, he shovels a large bite into his mouth and heartily chews both the flaky fish and the fine bones within. By contrast, everyone else at the table is deftly extracting the white flesh with tiny forks, leaving the bones on the plate.

The lord across the table frowns as Hinarax's teeth crunch the fish bones. I grip Hinarax's knee under the table by way of warning.

"Why is your esquire eating the razorfish bones, Prince?" asks a lord of Elekstan, from two seats down the table.

And then everyone is staring at us. The entire dinner party. Including Rahzien.

I glance at Meridian, who has choked on his wine and is coughing behind his hand. I can't tell if he's sincerely choking or if he's giving himself time to think of an excuse. Either way, I cannot allow this silence to drag out any longer .

I clear my throat. "That's how we eat fish in Zairos. It's recommended by the palace physician. Good for digestion."

"Doesn't it hurt?" inquires the Elekstan lord.

"Not at all. Perhaps our throats and stomachs are tougher than yours." I reach over with my fork, stab a large chunk of Hinarax's razorfish, and eat it. The slim bones snap between my teeth as I give the other dinner guests a savage grin. "Delicious," I manage through the gritty, spiny mouthful. I nudge Meridian. "Isn't this how we eat it in Zairos?"

"Oh… yes." Meridian lifts his fork, stares forlornly at the bone sticking out of the white flesh, then puts the bite into his mouth. "Just like home," he wheezes.

"Well then. A toast to the men of Zairos and their iron-clad throats," says Rahzien, lifting his cup. "May the women who entertain us tonight be blessed with such fortitude."

He laughs raucously, and so do most of the men at the table. I drink several swallows of wine to wash down the fish bones. Thankfully, once the toast is done, the attention of the group moves away from the three of us. Meridian makes a soft gagging sound once, but he seems to improve once the main course is served.

So far, so good. We have a little more information about the magic at the King's disposal, we know that the poisoner is here in the palace, and we avoided detection, if clumsily. I'm disappointed that Serylla hasn't yet made an appearance, but I suspect she will, after the meal. If not, I'll find some excuse to slip away and search the palace for her.

A palate cleanser is served, then another main course. When will this meal end? Dragons gulp their food quickly and move on, while to humans, eating seems to be a form of entertainment, not simply a means of survival.

Next comes the cheese course, during which I begin to suspect that I've passed into the afterlife, and the Bone-Builder has condemned me to an unending nightmarish banquet. But at last the servers present dessert , which according to Norril is usually the final course. I cast a wary eye over the fluffy confections of pink, lavender, and pale green on tiered white trays.

After sampling one of the desserts, Hinarax turns to look at me, his eyes wide and delighted. "You must try these."

To please him, I pop one of the fluffy things into my mouth. It tastes like Serylla, like flowers and sugar. I hate it, because I want her . I take another pastry, a green one this time.

I've barely swallowed it before Rahzien rises from the table, a broad smile on his bearded face. "And now, gentlemen, if you would join me in the ballroom, we've prepared some entertainment. I've invited a group of agreeable ladies to make themselves available to us this evening, both during the dance and in every way possible afterward. They've been well paid, so please enjoy them thoroughly. If you require privacy for such enjoyment, one of the servants can direct you to rooms prepared for that purpose. And there is a unique treasure tonight that only one of you will receive. If you wish to partake of that treasure, come speak with me about how you plan to support the Empire of Vohrain in the future. The most generous coffers and the best-laid plans will gain the ultimate prize."

A murmur of interest ripples around the table, though I notice some of the Elekstan nobles glancing at each other with concern or caution. How many attended this event because they wished to pacify their new ruler? How many came to the palace out of fear, not loyalty? More importantly, how many could be potential allies against Rahzien, in support of Serylla?

As the guests leave their chairs, Meridian edges closer to one of the Elekstan lords. "So may you rise," he says, in a cheerful undertone.

After a second, the other man responds quietly, "So may we all. "

It's an innocuous interchange. To anyone overhearing them, the words could refer to everyone getting up from the table. But I've heard Meridian speak that phrase before, back in the seaside village where we first met him. And I've heard it a few times since then, among the rebels. If I'm correct about its significance, at least one of the noblemen in attendance tonight is a friend to the rebellion. I'm not sure what Meridian plans to do with that information, but the presence of another ally is reassuring.

Hinarax, Meridian, and I head into the ballroom with the other guests. The arched ceilings are cavernous, exquisitely decorated with ornate patterns. My grandfather would have loved this place, would have stored the beauty of it in his mind and reproduced it later on the walls of a cave.

In the highest arches of the ceiling, great glittering objects hang from gold chains. Each one looks as if the Bone-Builder gathered two armfuls of stars and formed them into a cluster of brilliant illumination.

"What exquisite chandeliers," Meridian says pointedly, by way of informing us, and Hinarax breathes the word reverently: "Chandeliers."

At the head of the room is a tiered platform, rising in broad steps to a gilded archway. Along the edges of the wide steps, musicians sit on stools, cradling their instruments.

As the last of the dinner guests file into the ballroom, servants close the three sets of double doors along the north wall. My skin crawls at the sensation of being trapped, boxed in with Rahzien and his guards. Vohrainian soldiers seem to be everywhere, next to each pillar, standing in every alcove, haunting each corner. For once, none of them are wearing helmets, perhaps to make the party seem more relaxed and inviting.

Music crashes against my ears. I flinch, because even though I'm used to the roars of dragons, this seems sharper, more threatening. I've never heard so many instruments playing together at once.

Thankfully the bold, brassy sound only lasts for a moment. Mist billows down the tiered platform, and from the archway at the top, a figure emerges.

Her appearance synchronizes with a fierce tug in the depths of my soul, the reawakening of the connection between me and my Princess.

She's dressed in white, her golden hair bouncing around her shoulders in loose, soft waves. A silver mask covers the lower half of her face, and she wears a silver cage around her hips. Her long legs are half-clad in lace, with ribbons around her thighs—a most pleasing effect, but I can't enjoy it because my heart feels hot and swollen—it's pounding right out of my chest. Blood thunders in my head.

As Serylla descends, more women emerge from the archway and file down the tiers of the platform on either side of her. They all pause, with her in the center, and after a breathless moment, the music swells, and they begin to dance.

I don't know how the male dragons and I appeared to our captives when we danced for them, whether we were comical, majestic, or a little of each. But the vision before me now is breathtaking. Long silky limbs, fluttering skirts, figures both voluptuous and slender, skin of varying shades—it's an exquisite storm of female beauty, and yet only one form holds my gaze.

There's a gentle pathos in the way Serylla dances, slow and graceful amid the bolder movements of the women around her. She's performing at the King's command, but her movements are listless, vague with despair. Her gaze floats somewhere in the distance, blank and sorrowful.

I drift toward her like a hatchling caught in a powerful stream of wind, like a victim sucked in a void orb. I should not approach her, not now, and yet I can't stop myself. Meridian grabs for me but his fingertips only brush my sleeve—I'm out of his reach.

Look at me , my heart begs. Look at me, my love, look at me.

But her eyes remain distant, vacant. She doesn't look at anyone in the room.

The dancers assume a final pose as the song ends, and I turn away abruptly, sucking in a quick breath.

It's better that she didn't notice me. She'll see my face soon enough, but if she'd spotted me while she was dancing, she might not have been able to hide her reaction. What was I thinking, putting us both in danger like that? I'm a lovesick fool.

Rahzien smacks his hands together, slow and loud, and all the other guests follow his example.

"Applause," says Meridian quietly, moving in beside me. "Do it."

I imitate the repeated gesture until the King calls for silence. While he speaks, I keep my body turned slightly away from the platform, and I bend my head so my hair curtains the side of my face.

"Allow me to present Serylla Shanavris, former Crown Princess of Elekstan, my Conquered Consort," says Rahzien. "She is the unique treasure of which I spoke. Anyone may have a kiss and a dance with her this evening, but she will be entertaining one fortunate guest tonight. Impress me with your vows of loyalty and your gifts of allegiance, and the man who pleases me most shall receive this." He holds up a silver key, attached to a chain around his neck. "I don't have to tell you what it unlocks, or why." He chuckles darkly, a sound echoed by several men in the room. "I have the Consort's word that she will be docile and charming for whoever comes to her bed. And now, gentlemen—we have wine, women, music, and money—let us be merry!"

The musicians begin to play again, a brisk tune that reminds me of a deer bounding through a sunlit forest. I'm beginning to understand Meridian's affinity for music. My clan enjoyed singing, poetic chants, and percussive music created with our feet and tails, but with the skill of human hands, so many more sounds are possible.

I glance cautiously toward the platform and glimpse Serylla descending the last step, holding the King's hand. "Fuck," I snarl under my breath, turning toward Hinarax. "Talk to me, talk to me right now, or I think I might kill him."

"Oh, um… chandeliers… intriguing, aren't they?" Hinarax says hastily. "So many candles, or are they lit by gas?"

I stare at him. "Gas?"

"Meridian was explaining gaslamps to me. It's new technology, but it shows promise. The gas burns, you see, and—"

Rage churns in my gut. "Why are you talking to me about fire ?"

"Right, right! No fire… water. Think cooling thoughts… oceans, breezes, fountains, the waves of the ocean…"

"The ocean." I nod. "Deep, dark waters where you can plunge your enemies, so they will sink and never be found, and the sharks can clean their bones…"

Hinarax sighs. "I'm no good at this. Meridian?"

But Meridian is preoccupied, eyeing a table at the side of the room, where two men stand ready with parchments and feathers.

"Palace clerks," Meridian murmurs. "They're ready to take bids from the guests. It's an auction."

"What's an auction?" Hinarax whispers.

"Each man tells the King how much coin he's willing to donate to the royal coffers, or a number of servants or soldiers he'll contribute, or a piece of land he'll relinquish to the Crown. Not that any of it is truly theirs, now that they've been conquered, but he's letting them feel as if it is, confirming that if they transfer their loyalty to him, they'll be allowed to retain their titles and holdings. It looks as if each guest will be signing official pledge documents, which means their gifts of loyalty, money, and service cannot be retracted, even if they don't win a night with the Princess. It's all a game, really. A high-stakes gamble, with her body as the prize—and yet it's more than that, it's allegiance from them and clemency from him. Genius." Meridian glances at us and hastily amends, "Evil genius, of course."

"If you're done admiring our mutual enemy, perhaps we should look as if we're having a good time," I mutter.

Meridian cocks an eyebrow. "You first."

I try to summon a smile worthy of a human celebration, but before I can manage it, one of the dancers approaches us. "Evening, my lords. I'm Krissa. Would you care for some company?"

"No," I say.

"He means thank you , and yes ," says Meridian cheerfully, tossing his gilded walking stick to his other hand and cupping the girl's waist. "Come here, love. Aren't you precious?"

Hinarax's usually cheerful features compress in a thunderous frown, but the girl doesn't seem to notice. She cozies up to Meridian with a simper and a flutter of her lashes. "Thank you, sir! I like coming to the palace. Me and my friend Taleya over there—we've come here a few times to serve His Majesty and the generals from Vohrain."

"Indeed?" Meridian waves Taleya over, and she hurries to join us, dimples popping into her plump cheeks.

"How cozy this is!" crows Meridian. "Now, my Prince, my lord…" he looks pointedly at Hinarax. "Let's be charming, and perhaps these lovely ladies may tell us their darkest secrets ." He places special emphasis on the last two words, and Hinarax's frown smooths out as comprehension dawns. Meridian views everyone as a source of information, and these women are no exception .

"I've no time for dark secrets," I say. "I want to place a bid for the Princess."

Caution flares in the rogue's eyes. "Careful, my Prince. Remember, you lost everything in the pirates' attack."

"Then I'll bid with my father's treasure," I reply.

"I'd advise against that," Meridian begins, but Krissa gasps, "Pirates? How dreadful! You must tell us all about it."

"Yes, do," replies Taleya.

"Very well," Meridian says. "We'll dance, and I'll tell you a tale if you promise to tell me one afterward."

His voice and the giggles of the women fade as I move through the crowd. Much as I hate it, Meridian is right. I have nothing with which to barter. The seventh Prince of Zairos is in no position to bid for a night with the Princess. Nor can I sign pledge documents, because my signature won't match the one Meridian forged on our papers. I'm a dragon. I can carve Dragonish symbols, but I haven't learned to write the Eventongue with these hands.

No matter which way I turn, obstacles seem to leap into my path. But there is one thing I can do tonight. I can reveal myself to the woman I love. Maybe knowing I'm here will soothe some of the wounded despair I saw in her eyes while she was dancing.

Rahzien himself has cleared the way for me to have a moment with Serylla. I simply need to claim what he promised to every man in this room.

A dance and a kiss with the Princess.