Page 46 of Dragons' Bride
Hauck belches. At first, I’d thought he was acting more drunk than he was for the sake of irritating Tavias and Ettienne, but no. He really is as out of it as he sounds. The royal family of Massa’eve is as dysfunctional as any human one.
“Lady Kitterny is our bride because she is a magic-touched human,” Hauck announces into the silence. He flicks the top of my rounded ear. “See. Very human.”
“And where did you get this human exactly?” Ettienne asks, his posture changing from moments earlier when he was discussing the blight with Tavias. The king is no longer a father speaking with sons, but a commander dressing down subordinates.
Cyril lowers his head in acceptance of the coming reprimand. Tavias raises his chin, bracing for battle. Quinton’s piercing gaze cuts away from the window and rests with emotionless calm on Ettienne, as if awaiting orders. Hauck…
“We got her in… umm… The human realm.” Hauck frowns with effort then grins, proud of himself at finding the right words. If I could slip off his lap and toss a pitcher of ice water into his face to snap him back to reason, I would, but we are plainly beyond that. He raises a finger. “That umm… place where humans live. At an estate.”
My heart stutters then starts into a gallop that echoes in my head. Hauck’s drunken sputtering aside, this is no longer a hazing game Ettienne plays with me and bloody meat. It’s something else entirely. Something that has an ominous feel to it.
“Kitterny is from the Agam estate, sir,” Cyril says smoothly. Unlike Hauck, he is all calm and patience and professionalism. On the other side of the table, Tavias is still battling his temper and – I think – the sting of Ettienne’s disappointment.
I wonder if Ettienne knows how desperately Tavias wants his approval. To me, that much is obvious.
Cyril bows in my direction. “Kitterny may not be the woman we expected to bring back, but she is magic touched. Mind speech, like Tavias and you. Unfortunately, Lady Cordelia was unable to complete the journey and so –”
"And so, you grabbed the first human who fit the basic requirements of being magic touched and female and dragged her in instead?" Ettienne turns from Cyril to Tavias, his voice hardening further. "I expected better from you.”
Tavias’s mouth presses into a tight line. “I admit to my failure in protecting Cordelia, sir. But the suggestion that Kitterny is anything but equally worthy –”
“Did you imagine I would not find out?” Ettienne asks. His voice is deceptively calm. “Is that why you sent no word that you four failed to keep one human alive for a few weeks?”
“No deception was intended, sir,” says Tavias. “I judged that such a message might be intercepted to our adversaries’ advantage.”
“So, you chose to keep your commander in the dark? To take a plan that was decades in the making and turn it on its head on your own?”
“I think our perfect Tavias is in trouble,” Hauck whispers into my ear.
I give him my beststop talkingglare and dig my fingernails into his shoulder for emphasis.
“I chose to keep the throne’s secrets from our enemies’ ears.'' Tavias braces his forearms against the edge of the table and leans toward his father. His voice is rising, a contrast to Ettienne’s even notes. “Geoffrey is likely behind Cordelia’s death. I believe he and Salazar are making a play for the throne.”
“Do you?” says Ettienne.
“I do,” says Tavias.
“Well, praise the stars that the Massa’eve heir apparent can see basic strategy.” Ettienne lifts his arms in dramatized appeal, then leans in toward Tavias, invading his space. The king’s voice drops. “Of course they are vying for the throne. What else did you imagine, Tavias? Fair play?”
A beat of silence passes, then Tavias shakes his head. “No, sir.”
Hauck belches again.
I stuff a goblet of water into his hand.
“If I may,” Cyril injects himself between Tavias and Ettienne. “The Equinox pledge ball is tomorrow. That means, in just over twenty-four hours, our pack will join others in presenting ourselves to the trials’ master priest. Might I suggest that we table dissections of the past months’ communications in favor of focusing on the pressing mission? And for that, for the Equinox Trials themselves, our pack is ready.”
Ettienne sweeps his hand around the table. I am still perched on Hauck’s lap, the male beneath me now engrossed in watching the water swirling about his cup. Tavias is so tense that sparks of flame are playing along the tips of his scales. Quinton is back to staring out the window. “Cyril. Your pack isn’t ready to so much as sit through a dinner party.”
A twitch of Cyril’s brow says he doesn’t exactly disagree.
Tavias lifts his chin, the sparks along his scales intensifying. “Kitterny is a thousand fold braver than Cordelia ever was.”
“Kitterny doesn’t fit the prophecy.”
“She is smart, and strong, and caring,” Tavias launches each word with iron conviction. “And my pack is better for having her in it. Give her half a chance, Ettienne.”
“Yes, let’s give her a chance.” Ettienne’s attention swings toward me, his scales rising like spears. The weight of his scrutiny squeezes my chest. “Who are you, Lady Kitterny?”
