Page 22 of The Dragon Queen

“Oh, thank the gods…” Flynn sighed. “If I didn’t thank them every day for you walking into our lives, I would simply for removing the stick jammed up Soren’s?—”

His eyes went wide as I leaned over and kissed him.

“That’s the way you stop arguments?” Ged said. “Well… I’m not going to wear my insignia at all.”

Soren’s brows drew down as Ged went to undo the dragon badge, forcing me to pull back and kiss each one of them to silence.

“Well, if you’re all quite ready…”

Draven sounded quite aggrieved. Perhaps because we could hear the muffled sounds of the diners on the other side of the door. It was like facing down a firing squad, even though we were the ones who would be the interrogators.

“Not quite.” I turned to find Brom waiting there. “I’ll take my ring off, for you, Pippin, if that’s what you want.”

“I don’t.” My hand covered his, folding his fingers over, forming a fist that the ring couldn’t be pulled from. “I know I’m not taking mine off.” I looked down at the setting, seeing each leaf that had been inset into the band. Brom was my husband, but in his choice of rings, he made sure to include all the men I loved in its design. “I’ll need it, this symbol of us, to get through tonight.”

When he pulled me closer, when he pressed a kiss to myforehead, it felt like there was no one else but us here. I treasured that moment, because my mind wouldn’t allow me the luxury of pretending this was true. Because when I turned around and took Draven’s arm, the two of us affecting an appropriately regal pose before opening the doors upon the dining room, every person rose in response to our entrance.

Rich fabrics, furs, jewels, and sharp looks, that’s what I noticed as we stepped into the room. People, so many people, lined a table that seemed to go on forever. I swallowed hard, somehow finding this more intimidating than walking into a storeroom full of an ancient dragon’s blood. Probably because I had no training to prepare me for that, but a state dinner? The Wentworths weren’t called to the capital with any kind of regularity, but my mother, then my father, had tried to teach me the correct etiquette for dining with our betters.

I just couldn’t remember a single bit of it.

“Your Highness.”

It took me a second to realise Draven was speaking to me. He’d pulled out my chair for me and indicated that I should take a seat at his right.

But not the others.

They moved away from us, Flynn to sit with his family, by the look of these blond-haired strangers, Soren to sit further down the table with some people he seemed to know, but it was Brom and Ged whose progress I followed the most closely. They walked down to the end of the table, where there were several empty seats. Banished, that’s what it looked like. I turned and searched Draven’s face, asking a silent question, but he just shot me a well practised smile, taking my hand and squeezing it before nodding to the footmen stationed around the table.

“Bring out the first course.”

Chapter 12

“What’s being done about this situation with your uncle?” a gruff man asked. One of Draven’s many paternal uncles, it appeared. Many of the extended Nithian clan were seated at the head of the table in recognition of their link to the throne. Normally the dukes would outrank them, but as no dukes had been recognised yet, we were left to deal with Draven’s family’s concerns. “Surely you can talk sense into the man. He may be Raina’s brother.” His uncle could barely contain the scathing note in his voice when he mentioned the former queen. “But he can’t be an idiot. A civil war waged with a king who has the backing of the dragon corp?”

“Some of the corp decamped to Harlston,” I said that without thinking, my spoon hovering between my bowl of soup and my mouth. It would’ve been better if I had swallowed the soup by the looks the men gave me, all but Draven. “The Duke has dragons,” I added in a low mutter, then swallowed a mouthful of soup, doing my best not to slurp it.

“But not as many as you, young Draven,” another man said with the same blue eyes as my prince. They were a lot colder, more calculating, though.

“Majesty.” Draven cited his title mildly, as if mentioning the weather. “Your Majesty.”

“Your coronation—” one of them spluttered.

“Will be delayed. I have to bury my mother and my father, then oversee the succession of not one but three duchies. I think we can all agree that the next duke of each of those regions will be crucially important.” Draven stared down each person in turn. “It probably will not occur until after the civil war is won.”

There was the sound of multiple throats sucking in a breath, ready to protest, but Stefan got in first.

“Best to make sure there’s a throne to perch his arse on first before we go bestowing crowns on anyone.”

I couldn’t help but admire Draven’s cousin then. He drawled that out, elbows perched on the fine linen of the table, like he was having a conversation at a local tavern, not the king’s high table.

“Yes, well, we’ll also need to discuss the royal succession,” Draven’s uncle said. “It’s bad enough that Magnus’ death took us by surprise.” He surveyed the table and the other Nithians all nodded. “In times of war, we need to be prepared for all eventualities.”

“As well as your choice of wife.” Draven’s aunt shot me a slightly apologetic look, right before she looked down her nose at me. Here it comes, I thought, what I had expected all along. “I acknowledge your bond with the queen, Glitter?—”

Raina had looked me over and found me wanting, so why would Draven’s paternal family be any different?

“Glimmer,” I corrected with a tight smile, then remembered my manners. “Glimmer, Lady Helene.”

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