Gifts
Zafir ran her fingers down Jehal's chest. 'So what's she like, this girl you have to marry?'
Jehal smiled. They lay naked together, side by side under the sun, in one of the solars. Over the years Jehal had made a few nests like this around the palace. Private places where he and others who knew of them could come and go unobserved through hidden passages. Small places, but with tall windows to let in the light and the air. Most of this solar was filled by a large sumptuous bed. Others served more delicate purposes.
'A girl, as you say.' He began idly stroking Zafir's thigh. The solar was thick with the smell of incense. 'Naive. Full of wonder at the world, and almost completely lacking in any experience of it, I would say.'
'Stupid, then.'
Not at all. 'Yes. I think she very probably is. Of course, she was barely allowed to open her mouth.'
'Queen Shezira would not want you to know you were marrying an idiot. You might change your mind.'
Jehal laughed. 'Were it possible to avoid this marriage, it wouldn't matter if she was the most clever princess in all the realms. She would still not be the most desirable.' He turned to face Zafir and cupped her cheeks. 'She did speak, though clumsy and out of turn. I dare say she earned herself quite a rebuke as soon as Queen Shezira was able to give her one in private.'
'Is she pretty?'
Yes. 'Not particularly. She was dressed up nicely enough, but she didn't wear it particularly well.' Which was true, he thought. Although unfortunately rather intriguing.
'Tell me she's ugly and deformed.'
'I'm afraid I could only say that about her sister.'
'Then I wish it was the sister that you were marrying. Why can't you marry her instead?'
'It was all arranged, my love, long ago, when my father was still well. My family has given a pledge, and I must honour it.'
'You could still marry her sister.'
'I will ask, if that pleases you, if I might have the choice. I doubt that Queen Shezira would agree.'
'You like her, don't you?'
Jehal's face didn't flicker for a second. 'I hardly know her, my love. She is a doll. All dressed up to look as pleasing as she can, but still a doll.' Still, I would have to admit to being interested.
'And you can't wait to unwrap her, can you?' For a moment Jehal was quite sure that Zafir was about to sit up and pout and become unbearably tedious. Instead she pulled him closer. 'I'm afraid I'm going to have to spoil your wedding night. If you have to fuck your doll then so be it, but you'll be thinking of me while you do it.'
Jehal growled contentedly. For a moment, though, he hesitated. 'I should go. Lord Meteroa will already be waiting for me with whatever news there is from the eyrie.'
'Which do you want more? Me or Queen Shezira's white dragon?'
'You, my love. Always you.'
'Then let him wait.'
'He's not stupid. He'll find out about us if we're not very careful.'
'But he's your man, is he not?'
Yes.' Said with only the slightest hesitation.
'Then let him wait.'
Jehal let him wait, and then wait some more. The secret passage out of this particular solar led him right through the palace and back to his own bedchamber. Still he ran, and by the time he reached his own room he was out of breath.
He burst through the doors into his private anteroom. 'Lord Meteroa! I was resting. I do apologise for keeping you waiting. You should have knocked.' He couldn't help glancing at the floor to see whether Lord Meteroa had worn a groove in it with his pacing back and forth.
Meteroa wrinkled his nose. He didn't bother to bow. 'Resting? You stink of a woman, Your Highness. Should I wonder who you've got in there?'
'See for yourself if you wish.'
Meteroa met his gaze. There was something unnerving about the eyrie-master's eyes. They were somewhere between blue and grey, watery and incredibly pale, and the man never seemed to blink. It was like locking stares with a snake. 'Ah. In one of the solars were you? Which have you got up there? A princess or a queen?'
Jehal pursed his lips. 'Perhaps I had both at once.' He picked up a plum and tossed it through the air. 'Try something sweet to take that sharpness off your tongue.'
Meteroa caught it and tossed it back. 'Thank you, Your Highness, but I had my fill some time ago.'
'Tell me, uncle, since you're so insightful this morning, how is it that, when their lover's thoughts begin to stray, even a blind woman can see through the most finely crafted lies as though they were glass?'
The eyrie-master gave a harsh bark of bitter laughter. 'You are asking me?'
'I learned from a master.'
Meteroa's face became unreadable, the way it always did when he was remembering things from a long time ago. 'That's women,' he said. 'Shower them with pretty words and they'll be insensible to almost anything. Why's that? Because all their capacity to think is occupied with watching every movement of your eyes and listening to every nuance of your voice, searching for the infidelity that they secretly know must be there. Treat them like dogs and they'll fawn at your feet. Throw them a bone now and then and they'll show you far more gratitude.'
Jehal grinned. 'Your advice is as uncompromising as ever. Now tell me about the alchemists. Are they done yet? No!' Jehal clasped his hands together. 'But first tell me about my white dragon. Is she as beautiful as she should be? Is she perfect?'
'So far, Your Highness, she is invisible.'
'She's what?'
'There is no white dragon, Your Highness.'
'What?'
Meteroa raised an eyebrow and a faint smile played around his lips. 'Queen Shezira hasn't told you?'
'Told me what?'
'Apparently the wedding gift you were hoping for has not arrived. Queen Shezira has quite a few hunting dragons resting at Clifftop, but none of them is remotely white.' Meteroa cocked his head and raised his other eyebrow. For a moment Jehal felt an almost overwhelming urge to punch him. He carefully unclenched his fists.
'The best dragon in her eyrie. That is what I was promised.'
The eyrie-master bowed. 'I have made some enquiries. As always, it is the alchemists who have been most pliable. It would seem that some sort of incident occurred on the way. As best I can make out, Queen Shezira came here by way of the Adamantine Palace, but the white did not, and someone took advantage of the opportunity to seize it while it was poorly guarded. However, although there were survivors, including the original alchemist who set out with Her Holiness, none of them has come here. A first-hand account is sorely lacking. You are agape, Your Highness.'
Jehal closed his mouth. 'And so I should be, Lord Eyrie-Master, for what you're telling me is preposterous.'
Meteroa snorted. 'If I didn't know that none of your dragons has been away, Your Highness, my first thought would have been that this was our handiwork.'
'Yes, but since you know that it wasn't, that leaves a rather intriguing mystery, doesn't it? I hope you can solve it swiftly, Eyrie-Master. That white is mine.' He frowned. 'Besides, why would I steal my own present?'
'Why indeed? Shall we move on to the alchemists, Your Highness? I understand they've nearly finished.'
Jehal spat. 'Forget the alchemists! I want to know what happened to my dragon. Unless…' He grinned. 'Unless Queen Shezira stole it from herself, just so that she didn't have to part with it.'
Meteroa shook her head. 'She isn't you, Your Highness. I think it unlikely.'
'Then who?'
Jehal scratched his head. To look after a dragon you needed an eyrie, and no one could be stupid enough to imagine that a pure white dragon would remain a secret for long, wherever it was hidden. So most likely the dragon would return before long. Meteroa was probably right about Shezira, so what was the point? Attacking Queen Shezira? Wasn't that incredibly dangerous? A huge risk to take, and for what? What could be worth such a gamble? What could anyone possibly gain?
A sudden chill seemed to fill the room. What might he do, confronted with this news? Why, someone who didn't know him too well might wonder if he'd call the wedding off…
No. No, she couldn't…
He turned his back on Lord Meteroa, waving him away.
'The alchemists, Your Highness? Grand Master Bellepheros wishes a discreet audience.'
'Yes, yes, yes. Let him come. Now go. I need to think.'
'Yes, Your Highness.' Jehal felt Meteroa bow and begin to back away. 'Once you have finished thinking, Your Highness, I trust you will share whatever wisdom you have found?'