The Dragon Prince's Consort

Thirty-Nine

"I swear to the Flame, if you ever do that again I'll tie a knot in your tail!" Fang's voice, hoarse from crying, still had a sharp edge as she stood before the couch with her fists on her hips, loudly admonishing the bruised and scabbing Drass sitting there. It did make her feel a little better to shout at him after that awful duel with Tias. "And after that, I'll twist your ears and knock those horns right off your head! You could have died, Valen! And then where would I be?" Valen kept his head down, and when he protested he did so meekly with one eye swollen almost completely shut and his nose plastered with thick, stiff tape; he looked as awful as she felt.

"But, Fang, if I didn't–"

"I know what would happen if you didn't, but that doesn't mean I can't still be pissed at you!" 

Though his bodyguard sat in the nearby high-backed chair by the fire, Benna kept out of it and instead occupied herself with waiting for her tea to cool on the mantle; the palace physician Mayra quietly wrapped Valen's wrist into a splint between nervous glances at Fang.

"Fang, please," Valen held his good hand out, "he won't bother us anymore now! I had to do it, he challenged me!"

"I'm going to challenge you if you do something like that again!" In her corner Ben covered her face with her hand and shook with silent laughter. "Don't you dare think I won't, Valen Drassian, because I will!"

"Erm, I don't recommend it," Mayra finally – but very cautiously and politely – broke in. "Not with this wrist, Your Grace."

Fang's chin jutted out as she shot Valen a look of pure ire. "His wrist is going to be the least of his problems if he doesn't behave himself." She felt all blazing fury, her face colored abnormally red and her dark eyes sparking, but her heart still ached from the fear of losing him so close to their goal. Fang masked her fear with desperate wrath as if yelling at him would distract her from the horrible possibility; each time she thought of where she might be now if Valen hadn't beaten his brother her eyes threatened to sting with tears again. I'd have all my clothes and jewelry, but I wouldn't have him. She would give up all the gorgeous robes, stunning gowns, warm meals, hot baths and soft beds with their piles and piles of quilted silk on Anun – nothing was worth losing him.

"Hngh," Mayra began to pack away her things, "leave the splint on for the next two days, I'll be back when the swelling goes down to put a proper cast on it." She stood and bowed to Fang. "With respect, My Lady, His Highness will need to keep his wrist elevated for a few hours to keep the bruising to a minimum – please don't attempt any vigorous activity that might stress the arm."

"That means no more duels, then?" Ben suggested from her corner; her tea had finally cooled enough to drink and she sipped at it fastidiously with raised brows.

Mayra shook her head solemnly. "None whatsoever. I will leave some medication for the pain, but it will make you sleepy so try to wait until later this afternoon to take it. If you feel more pain than you think you can bear, call me."

"Thank you, Doctor." Fang bowed her head, her eyes still trained on Valen and sore from her earlier tears. She wanted a bath and to crawl into bed, so exhausted she was from the morning's horrific fight between brothers, but she feared that if she let him out of her sight Valen would somehow disappear. Any moment she expected to blink and find herself back in the training gym, screaming as the Drass she secretly loved slipped out of life; that he'd somehow survived Tias's beating still had her heart reeling. Mayra left the suite, and for a few moments the only sounds were the crackling hearth and Benna's delicate cup tinkling on the mantle as she set it aside to keep warm. 

Fang began to pace the thick rug before the fire, occasionally rubbing at her raw eyes and trying to convince herself that this was the real outcome, that she wouldn't come out of a faint at any moment to find Valen dead on the canvas mats with his head smashed in. She could still see the blood spraying from his nose as Tias smashed his cheek with the flat side of the mock halberd, the sticky, dark fluid dribbling down his chin and dotting the floor; her stomach turned and she set her hand to her throat – they hadn't stopped for breakfast before returning to the mountain, but Fang didn't think she'd be able to stomach anything.