The Dragon's Match

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＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

"I was not aware that we were convening within my chambers prior to a sparrow's first wind," Lillian grumbled from behind the screen that had been erected to afford her some privacy while she tended to her wardrobe for the day.

"I thought you could use some encouragement," Millie said unrepentantly from where she sat atop the rumpled covers of Lillian's bed. It was still dark out, the sun barely touching the horizon yet, and so forebodingly cold within the room even after the hearth had been re-stoked and lit anew.

"Perhaps encouragement would be better received at a more reasonable hour," she retorted, shoving her arms through the sleeves of a plain linen shirt.

"I brought tea!" Addilyn Holt exclaimed jovially as she was heard stomping across the threshold of the door and deeper within the room. "And biscuits. Can't have tea without biscuits."

"Ooh!"

"The presence of both of you," Lillian muttered, hopping into the legs of the snug fitting trousers she had chosen to don that morning, "suggest that you do not trust me to see this ordeal through. Perhaps you are worried I will cry off instead of meeting with various suitors today?"

"Nonsense," Millie snorted, and Lillian could almost imagine the humorous expression on her sister's face, almost imagine her swinging her legs frivolously back and forth against the edge of her mattress. "You forget, sister of mine, that I too have been through the processes of one of Mrs Holt's socials. It can be quite... er... daunting. No offense, Addy dear."

"None taken." A loud slurp of tea followed this uttering. "If I had the power to change the sentiments of half the males that applied..."

"Regardless," Millie continued, blithely unaware that her sister was gritting her teeth to curb her annoyance, and anxiety- among other things. "There are thirteen gentlemen convening within Ravensfield today with one sole intent. I doubt any woman in her right mind would feel comfortable with such a thing."

"I feel like a prized pig," Lillian grumbled, stuffing her shirt into the waist of her trousers and securing the ensemble with a sturdy leather belt. Then she grappled with her utilitarian leather waistcoat- the one she had tailored to incorporate various pockets and nooks to hoard useful items that she never knew when she may need- and secured this over her shoulders and tightly about her waist.

"A very expensive one," Millie added happily.

"You are not a commodity," Addilyn Holt sniffed sternly. "If none of the matches appeal to Lady Ravensfield, we can simply begin afresh on the morrow. As I said before-"

"It will be done today," Lillian said firmly, and something hard and unpleasant lodged in her throat. She compelled it away, straightening her shoulders and glancing about the space near her armoire for her boots. She caught sight of the dark blue coat she had scurried to stuff away out of sight at her sister's unannounced arrival but moments prior, her heart tripping over itself as she recalled hugging the material that smelt like him closer to her limbs.

It had been the first night in a long time that she had an uninterrupted sleep, a dreamless sleep, and when she woke she found her face buried within the soft fabric of one shoulder as if endeavouring to bring the essence of the male who it belonged to closer.

Such notions were ridiculous and she was a fool to harbour such misguided feelings for the Dravolese. She, more than anyone else, knew of their kind intimately, especially what they were capable of.