The Dragon Prince's Consort

Thirty-Five

Sneaking back into the mountain palace early the next morning reminded Fang of the night Tias brought her in, except this time she was in on the deceit and knew where she was going – the high vaulted halls with their red and gold pennants shifting slowly in the mountain's breath were a familiar sight. That, and after living here for a month as one of the Dragon Princes' Ladies Fang had something of a good reason to be there. So when they rounded the corner to the wing where she lived with Valen and almost ran head-first into Benna, the Warden's questions were more concerned with 'where have you been?' instead of 'who are you and how did you get in here?'

"We went to Kitsara for the night," Valen explained, "too much going on here."

Benna rolled her eyes and sighed like a frazzled mother, but rather than launch into a lecture on curfew she briefed them on the Emperor and First Prince's moods. "His Majesty is nursing a royal headache after last night, so he's called off his appointments for the day in the name of celebrating the new baby. Your brother's been preening and strutting the palace all night, best let him have his good mood for a while."

"How is Lady 'Sana?" Fang asked.

Benna flipped a hand as if shooing away an insect. "Lady Aisana is resting. She went to sleep as soon as the little one was cleaned up and presented to His Majesty, she'll probably wake up sometime around dinner. Having babies is exhausting work even when they aren't those monsters your brother sires, this one was almost seven kilos." Ben winced. "Anyway, now that you're here you might as well go see Freya – she's in the training pitch showing off for Roban, she might be distracted enough for you to catch her off guard for once." By the twitch of the Warden's ears, Fang thought Benna might be implying that Valen would have a chance to show off too.

Valen let out a huff, his breath stirring his shaggy fringe. "It has been a couple of days since I went to training. Fang?" he turned to her, "do you want to come watch?" 

Half an hour later, she followed Valen down the high hall in fresh clothes and slipped her hand into his arm when he offered it. She'd brushed her hair and pulled it back with silver combs embedded with pieces of crystal and gold wire, and had pulled Valen's hair back out of his eyes with a length of red silk; Valen padded down the long red-and-gold carpets with his feet wrapped in strips of elastic fabric that left his toe-claws exposed and offered more flexibility than shoes. His choice of clothes were the now-familiar leggings and loose, light-colored tunic with short sleeves. Fang liked the look, especially the contrast between his deep scarlet skin and the cream-colored tunic over dark leggings; he looked like a warrior from one of the many, many books in his personal collection, the ones who dedicated their lives to training their bodies and minds for war. She asked him if he'd ever beaten Freya.

"Not as often as I'd like," he bobbed one shoulder. "When I started training I didn't want her to go easy on me because I'm short, and she took it as an order. She's trounced me more often than not, but I like to think it's made me a better sparring partner. I do get some good hits in... sometimes." His ears flattened against his head.

"Should I think about picking up something, like a sword?" Were Lady Consorts expected to be as good as the Wardens when it came to fighting? Fang guessed she could at least try, however ridiculous she might look. Imagine, a tiny human woman among seven-foot-tall Drass, wielding a child's sword like a toothpick! I bet Susa could take me out in one hit.

"If you want to, but you don't have to. I just don't know if a human can handle Drass training – you don't have tails for balance or scales for defense."

"Hm," Fang nodded. Good point. They passed one of the many tapestries depicting ancient battles, kingdoms and pre-unification territories fighting over political borders, resources and crimes both real and imagined. Fang was beginning to pick up on the history of the Drassian Empire now that she could read passably well and thought she recognized some of the scenes: King Rashlan lifting the blood-soaked head of Minister Odegan, the advisor who'd turned against him and tried to break ties with other kingdoms; the Rebel Queen Takara riding enemies down on her gigantic white mount and running them through with her obsidian lance; Tenurkhan the first Dragon Emperor kneeling before the smith who forged the gold chains worn by every Dragon Emperor since as a symbol of their obligation and connection to the Empire. Perhaps Valen would someday find a place on these walls.