Realm of Dragons

Even having known him such a short time, Devin knew better than to argue. He saw Sir Twell shrug.

“His highness is like that,” the knight said, moving his horse closer. “When a man  shows courage and honor, he’s a true friend to them. Besides, you’re worthy enough.”

The other two knights nodded. It seemed that it was settled: Devin was going to the feast.

***

When they arrived at the castle, Rodry headed off to the feasting hall with Sir Lars and his prize of star metal, to show it to his father before he gave it back to Devin for the forging. Devin, meanwhile, found himself taken to the rooms of Sir Halfin, trying to find suitable clothes. The knight was much older than him, but it was true that they were similar sizes, and soon, they were rooting through his clothes, picking out this doublet and that.

“I swear he’s more your size, Twell,” the knight grumbled, as he went through a chest to drag out hose, shirt, doublet, and boots. “Here, try these, they might fit you.”

They did, and they were finer than anything Devin had worn in his life. The shirt was silk, the double dark velvet embroidered with curls and spirals. The boots were soft leather, a far cry from the hard ones Devin wore. Devin washed the worst of the dirt from himself and dragged his fingers through his hair, wondering all the while exactly what was happening to him.

“You get used to Prince Rodry’s generosity eventually,” Halfin said. “He’s a good young man, reminds me of his father in that respect. So long as you don’t do anything to pick a fight with him.”

“Like being late for the feast when he’s invited you,” Twell suggested. “They’ll forgive us old Knights of the Spur a lot, but not too much.”

“Especially not when one of us has a reputation for speed,” Halfin said.

Sir Twell laughed at him. “Maybe ten years ago.”

“Oh, that would be back before the great planner started forgetting things?” Halfin shot back.

It was so strange for Devin, sitting there with two Knights of the Spur, listening to them make fun of one another like two old comrades, rather than the heroes out of stories.

“We need to hurry,” Halfin said.

He led the way down through the castle. Even though Devin had been there before, that had been brief, and he’d been in a dungeon for much of it. Now Devin found himself staring at the expanse of the interior. There were tapestries on all the wars, depicting everything from the rise of the Northern kings to the myths of the gods, and the dragons that no one had seen in more than a lifetime. They seemed to shimmer, picked out in metallic thread and shimmering as air caught the tapestries they stood on.

Devin hadn’t thought that anywhere could be grander, but when they reached the feasting hall, he knew he was wrong. He’d been in it for brief moment before, but now he got a true look at it. This was a place that was the epitome of opulence, strung with decorations and pennants, gilded and with marble columns supporting arches overhead, with music coming from lutenists and trumpeters. There were people dancing and talking everywhere Devin looked, while at the far end of the hall, the king and his wife sat on thrones next to one another.

“There are so many people,” Devin said, and not just people, nobles. Devin could see the difference. Everyone there, even the servants, was dressed in ways that were more expensive than anything Devin owned, and he immediately felt as though he stood out in spite of his borrowed clothes helping him to blend in.

Rodry was there, next to his sister Lenore. Devin had seen her when she had been seeing Rodry off, but now… she was perfect. Her dark hair was lustrous and her body encased expertly in a dress of gold and green. Her features were delicate, and when she laughed at something Rodry said, Devin couldn’t have imagined anything more beautiful.

Something caught at his heart then, sharp and almost painful. He felt as if he couldn’t look away. Then Rodry did something Devin hadn’t expected: he looked around and waved Devin over.

Devin should have felt as though he had no right to set foot on that floor. He should have felt as though he was about to stumble and fall with every step, yet he didn’t. The sight of her seemed to pull Devin across the floor, dragging him across just with the need to be near her, so that he glided evenly over to them. He remembered to bow when he got there.

“There’s no need for that, Devin,” Rodry said. “Devin, I would like you to meet my sister Lenore. Lenore, this is my friend Devin.”

His friend? There were so many other things that he could have described Devin as. He could have mentioned the sword Devin was making, or the fact that he was from the House of Weapons. It seemed strange to be introduced just as that.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Devin,” Lenore said, offering him her hand. Devin took it as delicately as he could, kissing her knuckles. Even that contact was electric.

“And you, your highness,” he said, remembering the correct term. For a moment, he found himself wishing he could ask her to dance along with the others, but he knew he had no right to do it.

“I’m told that I have you to thank for bringing my brother back to me, along with Father’s knights,” she said. She smiled slightly. “Although he won’t tell me exactly what it was that he went out to fetch.”

Devin saw Rodry shake his head pointedly.

“Then I shouldn’t be the one to give away his secrets,” Devin said.

“Ah, loyalty,” Lenore said. She didn’t seem displeased, though. “I will have to leave you two to talk,” Lenore said. “For now, Finnal is waiting for me. It was good to meet you, Devin.”

She didn’t so much step away as glide, and Devin found that he couldn’t take his eyes from her as she did it. She went to stand with a young man who seemed almost as beautiful as she was, who took her hand with perfect grace. They moved out onto the dance floor together, stepping in perfect time to the music. The people around seemed entranced by them, rapt in joy as they watched.

Rodry didn’t seem happy, and Devin found that nor was he. He wanted to be the one dancing with Lenore, as impossible as that was.

“That man…” Rodry said, with something close to a snarl.

“You don’t like him?” Devin asked with a frown. It seemed strange that someone would seem to have that much loathing for anyone who so obviously made his sister happy.

“Let’s just say that I would rather he were marrying a good man,” Rodry said. He gestured to Devin. “Like you. You’d be a much better match, because at least you have honor.”

Devin laughed, because he assumed that Rodry was making a joke. Even so, he couldn’t help thinking about it. What would it be like to be the one marrying Princess Lenore? What would it be like to be the one standing there in front of a priest when the time came, declaring their mutual love for one another? Devin could feel his heart swelling at the image, and he turned to Rodry to ask him more about his sister, but before he could do it, trumpets blared, bringing a halt to the dancing.

In the ensuing silence, the king stood.

“Where are my children?” he called out. “Come to me! I would speak with you!”

Devin saw Rodry look around in surprise.

“Looks like I have to go,” Rodry said. “Enjoy the rest of the feast, Devin.”

Devin nodded, watching his new friend go to his father. He found himself edging forward too, because he wanted to know what this was about. The king’s tone had sounded serious. Something was happening, and Devin wanted to know what it was.

CHAPTER THIRTY

“Bring my children to me!” King Godwin called out over the controlled chaos of the feasting hall. He could hear the anger in his voice, though it wasn’t at any of them—it was at the men who stood in front of him, a collection of nobles who stood there with all the solemnity of men standing at a funeral. He wanted to dismiss them, to tell them all to leave and take their stories with them, yet he couldn’t. Duke Viris was among them, and the rest… these men supplied half of the kingdom’s armies. The Knights of the Spur might be his men, but the rest were summoned from around the kingdom.

“Where are you?” he demanded again, loud enough that the feast fell silent.

His children came forward; at least, those of them who were there. Erin was still absent, and his men had yet to send word that they’d found her. Rodry was there, looking as though he expected to be sent off on some mission, and Vars was drunk, looking as though he hoped he wouldn’t be. Greave was besotted on the arm of some girl, which was a strange look for him, but probably a better one than his usual moping in the library. Lenore was there, elegant and perfect as always…

…and then there was Nerra. Godwin wasn’t supposed to have favorites, but he’d always cared for Nerra so much. Looking after her, keeping her secret from the world, had drawn him closer and closer to his daughter. He wanted her to be safe…

…he just couldn’t see how he could manage it now.

“There have been… claims,” he said. The word almost stuck in his throat. He looked over to Aethe, knowing how much this would hurt his wife, because it was hurting him at least as much. “Claims about you, Nerra.”

Fear filled him then, and as great as his fear for Nerra was, only part of that fear was for his middle daughter. Much of it was for the others there, for all the rest of his family. If people knew that he had kept something like this from them, had not sent away his daughter the moment he knew… they would never forgive him. His whole family might fall and die.

That was the terror that made him say it as if he didn’t know all of this, as if he had never heard the words the nobles had said before, rather than hearing them almost the moment his daughter had been born.

“What claims?” Nerra asked, and she sounded genuinely confused, as if there might be more than one thing that this might be about.

King Godwin gestured to one of the nobles there, a minor earl, Earl Fontaine a few paces ahead of Duke Viris. The duke himself wasn’t going to say it, because that would have been too much, but he was there, he was part of this.