Page 12 of Water Dragon
His hearts were slowing painfully in his chest with anticipation.
And I’m to go alone, his mind finished cruelly.
“Whatever it is,” he stammered out, unable to stop himself. “Whatever it is that you have to tell me, you must promise me I will not be facing it without… whatever support I choose.”
His father narrowed his eyes, then a small smile began to play on his mouth, as though Malcolm had made some sort of joke.
He was as serious as he could possibly get. He schooled his expression into one of deep earnestness, not mirroring his father’s smile, and finally the king killed the mirth and said, “Of course. You have my word that whatever support you might choose, whatever support you might need, it will be given.”
Malcolm felt something hard loosen its grip on his hearts, allowing him to breathe a little easier again.
He would be able to request that Iona stay by his side no matter what. He needed her there. This morning had proven that much to him. He couldn’t even dress himself. Having that thought in his head for what his father next proclaimed was not helpful, especially not as the words came without hesitation on his father’s part.
“I have decided upon your first and last trial,” the king said.
Malcolm drew a soft breath. He had been expecting it, but not quite yet. He had thought his father would wait until the tournament was over but choosing to initiate everything before the tournament had even begun spoke volumes of what he expected of his son.
The king held Malcolm’s gaze steadily, unspoken words hanging in the air, both of them aware of how there was so much more at stake now than simply a shift in their power dynamic.
The kings were in the same place for the first time in five hundred years for a reason.
Malcolm swallowed, thinking through each step that would secure him his future. The trial, the moment of transference, the crown on his head. The implication of his father’s declaration being not only that he trusted Malcolm to succeed, but that he was ready to hand over the rule. And that he had faith that Malcolm could face a threat that stood against all the crowned heads and face it victorious.
Yes, it seemed his father wanted him to agree to acting the bait needed to draw out that very threat, but he would not have requested it if he didn’t have every confidence that they could face that threat together, and beat it back.
Malcolm had trouble finding the right words.
“Are you certain?” he finally queried.
Can I truly handle this?
His father smiled.
“You have matured into the sort of man that will make a fine monarch,” his father said, pride in his gaze to underline his statement.
Malcolm felt the gnawing worry in his chest ease a little. Threat or no threat, this moment was bound to come sooner rather than later. And if now was the time, then he would accept it and face whatever came with it.
Perhaps a fine monarch could rule a country and still need a maid to put together an outfit fit for a king each morning. Perhaps a fine monarch should not even think to perform the task himself and that’s where he had gone wrong in the first place.
Where had Iona even been? It was unlike her to disappear without a word.
Had she been sent to her father’s farm?
Why would she not have left a note? Or left later?
He focused back on his father and the enormous weight that was beginning to slowly slide from the king’s shoulders to Malcolm’s.
“What is my first and last trial to be?” Malcolm asked, his words underlining how he was willing and ready to accept the watermagic and the crown.
And baiting the common foe, he thought to himself, a shiver running through him at the question marks attached to who this common foe might be.
“To choose a mate,” his father answered his query.
Malcolm stared at him. This was far beyond anything he would have ever expected. And far simpler than the trial of his father, who had swum through each of the thousand lakes in search of the pearl that now sat in the middle of his crown. Malcolm felt his spirits lift at the simplicity of the task. At least this part would be quick and painless. Should the threat take the bait and begin to circle the moment of transference then that moment might prove less so.
“And you are to choose a mate either from the courtiers at your disposal or from the lower classes of the citadel,” his father added.
Malcolm’s hearts stuttered with the shock of his father’s words.
