A Courtship of Dragons

Chapter 1

She stood inside the most beautiful house she had ever seen, and Milai was too anxious to enjoy it.

She and seven other young women stood crowded in a room their host had called the "common" sitting room. "Is there an uncommon sitting room, then?" her friend Louth had murmured. Milai had shushed her, terrified the formidable older woman would hear.

For the common sitting room, it was gorgeous. Every time Milai found her attention wandering—Zaeerna would be astounded by the vaulted ceilings, Litshee would have her nose pressed to the carved trim around the four windows to examine the intricacies—she turned herself firmly back to her preparations. She could not be less than perfect.

Her mother lifted the netting Milai and her sisters had hand-knotted out of a silken cord that matched her dress. The glass beads they had worked into the knots caught sunlight and Milai forced herself not to bite her lip as she followed her mother's hands. If her mother dropped the net, she had nothing else for her hair and those assembled would dismiss her, and her family, as poor.

The net settled over the braids Milai's mother had wrapped around her head and sewn into place. Milai released her breath.

Then she started eyeing the assembled style. Was everything tucked up underneath? She couldn't have lose hairs sticking out everywhere as her tended to do. That was why they had decided on the net rather than a hair comb or pins. Would everything hold through the evening? Her family couldn't afford to lose the beads—or the embarrassment that would come out of her hair falling apart in the middle of the ceremony or the dancing.

Why had she agreed to this? They should have waited another year, gathered more supplies, forged more connections. But it was uncertain if they would travel down to Daz for Chutji next year.

"Absolutely lovely, my darling," my mother murmured, pressing her cheek against Milai's.

She closed her eyes, trying to savor her mother's presence—but mostly she was trying to imagine what her hair would have looked like darker. She had wanted to try the new fashion of dark-colored hair powder—the one latest trend she could afford—but Mother had been appalled. She loved Milai's reddish-blonde.

But darker hair was more fashionable, especially now that the treaty was signed and trade was moving freely again. The mineral the hair powder was made from was easily accessible. For the evening to come, Milai needed to be the most fashionable she had ever been. Likely the most fashionable she would ever be. No mussed hair, uneven hems, or hastily-applied trim would miss the eyes of those attending Chutji.

Especially since she was the first of her family to be formally introduced at Chutji.

If all went well tonight, her sisters would be unremarkable when their time came in two years.

But if Milai was found wanting, she would ruin all of her parents' accomplishments. They would lose their business contracts. Whatever they didn't lose would be spoiled by gossip. It would be years before society would forget enough for them to build again.

Milai opened her eyes and considered the mirror as her mother stepped back to finish securing the net and my hairstyle with a couple of plain pins. Milai tried not to think about the jeweled ones the more established families would wear.

She was well aware of reality. She was just barely polished enough to survive the evening. One stumble, one laugh at the wrong moment, and the highest-ranked members of Gekuhvian society would shun us.

Her belly turned and she swallowed against the nausea.

She was ready for the last piece of her outfit. Her mother lifted her gathgumai and settled it over her shoulders, leaning close to pin it closed with the brooch that had been passed down through Mother's family. Milai's uncle had made a special trip to their home weeks ago so Milai could wear the brooch. Worn but obviously heavy silver, the brooch vaguely shaped like a dragon head with a green eye of a stone Milai didn't know.

Milai's daily wear gathgumai was a study wool that laced in the front and was a bit tattered in the back from having the hood replaced two years before. It was a faded blue and the only decoration was the embroidery she had added to hide the threads that were holding the tie for her lentuhn.

The only similarity between the gathgumai she wore at home and the one her mother had just placed around her neck was that they were both blue.

This one was darker and sewn out of a shining silk. Milai had spent months embroidering the edge with flowers seen in their home's garden. The biggest flower was spread across the corners below the brooch. This was going to be her special-event gathgumai for the rest of her life and she had poured her heart into it.

Their host strode into the room. "Line up," she ordered. "Quickly. You are not out for a stroll in the garden."

Her mother squeezed her shoulders, then stepped out of the way. Milai hurried to the door while trying to appear as though she was not hurrying, almost colliding with another young woman.

The host stopped the young women in the hall with a "Wait here," before she continued on to whatever other tasks she needed to do as the host. Other young people filed out of nearby rooms. But not the wealthiest or most influential. Those had private rooms where they would comfortably wait until the end of the presentation line. A man in a house uniform organized the Jizud into order of presentation. Milai exchanged a tight smile with her best friend Louth when Louth stepped into place behind her. There were twelve Jizud in the line before them. Milai had expected to be closer to the front.

The music started down below and they heard the host announce the first name. The line inched forward and Milai could just barely see the lurit at the base of the stairs. She'd never been in one of the large, open rooms built specifically for hosting parties and dances. Part of her wanted to strain around the corner of the wall to peak over the railing. The rest of her was to terrified to be seen behaving like the unsophisticated rustic that she was.

She just wanted this night to be over. Milai swallowed and drew in deep breaths. When that wasn't enough to calm her, she started working step-by-step through the evening's events. She would step up to the top of the staircase; her escort Pai would take his place at the bottom. When she started to walk down, she would need to hesitate a heartbeat between each step. Perhaps every two heartbeats, considering how her heart was galloping in her chest...

"Do you have your token?" the person standing in front of her whispered to her neighbor.

Milai didn't hear the young man's response. But she didn't need to. She had hers. She rolled the wooden bead in her hand. Wood for marriage. Now that she would be introduced to Chutji, would Pai propose?

It would be the time for it. So many other engagements would be announced by the close of the evening.

The bead tumbled out of her hand, slipped past her grasping fingers, and disappeared over the balustrade and between those standing below. Milai froze.

"No," Louth whispered. "Oh, no, Milai."

Author Note: Want more? Read ahead by joining my Ream here: https://reamstories.com/page/lf89t5yvl6