Page 5 of Red Dragon
“The shields have permitted them less stressful lives and the ability to cultivate agriculture, but…” Vorik shrugged. He didn’t want to defend the gardeners. His ancestors had originated on the same islands, but, after choosing to leave—or being forced into exile—they and their descendants had never been allowed to return. Because of that policy, the Garden Kingdom had brought these attacks on itself. “It doesn’t matter. We’llallhave the option to be well-fed soon. We’ve already packed away a lot of food for the winter.”
“Yes.” Jhiton looked toward the sky. “Does the wild dragon Wreylith always come when the princess calls?”
“I don’t know.” Vorik had answered variations of the question before. Since Wreylith, who’d shown up with allies as well as her sex appeal, had been pivotal in turning the tide in their battle with the Kingdom ships, Jhiton understandably wanted to know if they would have to deal with her again when around Syla.
“Is she in the area now?” Jhiton’s eyes narrowed, as if Wreylith showing up today might affect something.
“You’re as likely to know that as I.” Vorik waved toward the dragons flying high above. Their kind could sense each other from a much farther distance than even magically enhanced humans and would be the ones to relay if any enemies approached.
“I thought your love-smitten dragon might be keeping a close eye on her.”
“It doesn’t sound like she wants his eyes on her.”
“Odd.”
“Hethinks so.”
Jhiton clasped his hands behind his back. “If you wish, speak to your princess when we arrive. Take her aside for a private talk. Or more. Whatever might allow you to draw out useful intelligence.”
“Are you ordering me to seduce her again?”
That wouldn’t work; Syla had never fallen for Vorik’s lies, and she would be suspicious of any overture he made toward her, especially when he was with his people. That knowledge didn’t keep his groin from perking at the thought of another night with her. Or even a hasty rendezvous while the diplomatic talks went on nearby. An image of pulling her into a castle closet filled him with the desire to move islands to ensure such a moment happened.
“Spend your time together however you wish.” Jhiton tilted his palm toward the sky, toward Agrevlari and the other dragons flying above the translucent barrier. “Perhaps you can convince her that our chiefs are more open to negotiating for thepeace treatythat she suggested than they’ll let on. If she were to offer to give our people half the islands in the Kingdom, maybe theywouldbe open to it.”
“We do have the military advantage right now,” Vorik said. “The Kingdom should be willing to offersomethingto get us out of their skies.”
Despite failing to obtain the Harvest Island shielder, the stormers had destroyed one of the ancient artifacts and killed many of the moon-marked royals with the ability to activate them. They’d also done a great deal of damage to the capital city.
“Yes,” Jhiton said. “In exchange, perhaps our chiefs would agree not to attack the other islands, to leave them for the Kingdom populace.”
“Youwant them all.”
Vorik watched his brother’s stony face and thought of the son he’d lost. Jebrosh. Because of his hunger one winter, Jebrosh had taken a dangerous risk, and he’d fallen and died. But that wasn’t all of the pain Jhiton had endured, thanks to the harsh environment they lived in. Before Jebrosh, four other babes had been stillborn or lost during the pregnancy. He’d never said he blamed the gardeners for that, or for his wife leaving him after Jebrosh’s death, but Vorik had heard Jhiton curse the mad storm god and the world he’d left.
“I do, but I am in charge only of the Sixteen Talons, not our people as a whole.” Jhiton tilted his head toward the tribal leaders who’d come out on deck, twelve black-clad stormer warriors flanking them.
Chieftess Shi lifted a finger toward Jhiton.
He inclined his head toward her and started that way.
“General?” Vorik asked.
Jhiton paused and looked back.
“If you don’t believe Princess Syla will be made queen, then why would it matter what I can convince her of?”
Jhiton smiled cryptically. “Don’t think too hard about this, Vorik.”
When his brother walked away, Vorik faced the railing again. He looked forward to seeing Syla but worried he would inadvertently betray her again. More, it concerned him that Jhiton had a plan and wasn’t confiding in him about it. Had Vorik lost some of his brother’s trust? That bothered him a great deal, and, as much as he would like seeing Syla again, he believed it would have been better if they hadn’t been sent along on this mission.
Nerves tangled in Syla’s belly as she readied herself to meet the tribal leaders from the stormer delegation. The tribal leaders andVorik.
What role would he play? Bodyguard? Would a high-ranking military officer have been brought along for such? And General Jhiton too? According to Sergeant Fel, he commanded the entire Sixteen Talons, working hand-in-hand with General Amalia, who led the Storm Guard. Militarily, they were equals, but she apparently deferred to him. Jhiton, especially, wouldn’t be along as someone’s bodyguard.
Someone knocked on the door to the room Syla had claimed—not the royal suite but a guest room down the hall, one with the roof intact. Before she reached the door, Aunt Tibby opened it and stepped in.
Looming outside, Sergeant Fel waited to escort Syla to the throne room, where she wasnotexpected. While she’d been putting on an elegant dress and winding her auburn locks into an artistic bun, hoping to appear regal or at least more mature than her twenty-six years, General Dolok had sent a messenger to tell her that the military would handle the stormer delegation. He’d suggested she remain somewhere safe and out of the way.Of course, she was going to ignore that idea. Fel, who’d come to know her well these past weeks, hadn’t implied he would enforce the general’s suggestion.
