Page 23 of In the Embrace of Dragons
When we’re seated and Ragnakor has taken up his post at the door, I raise my goblet, which is already full of firewine.
“I have gone and retrieved my bride from the human lands,” I say loudly, so everyone in the banquet hall can hear me. “Please welcome Queen Nissia to Selvumrrest.”
More tails thump the ground, and the wardens and courtiers raise their goblets into the air before taking a longdrink. While I take a hearty gulp, Nissia sniffs her drink, her brow furrowing.
“What is this?” she whispers.
“Firewine.” I throw more back. “Do they not have it in your kingdom?”
“Not wine that smells like cinnamon.” She takes an experimental sip, and though she keeps her expression carefully neutral, I can tell by the widening of her eyes that she doesn’t enjoy it.
I snicker. “You’ll have to have some, to be polite.” Not that anyone would notice if she didn’t, but this will be amusing for me.
I don’t want her to think what happened during the ceremony means anything to me. Tonight, I will put her back in her place, so she understands that my releasing my glands was simply a mistake, an instinctual urge.
Nissia narrows her eyes like she doesn’t quite believe me, but she takes a long drink of the firewine anyway. She can’t hide her grimace.
At least she’s brave enough to do it. I can admire that.
“It’s good to see you, King Vizarios.” Lagarion, the warden of one of our farther eastern territories, sits across from us. “I have not had the pleasure since your mother passed away.”
I scowl at the memory of her memorial. She had been cremated, as all dragons are, and those wardens who could make it on such short notice attended to say their farewells. Others, in the farther reaches of the kingdom, could not participate. This is my first time meeting them as their king.
“Indeed,” I say. I don’t want to think about the funeral.
“My sincerest apologies for your loss.”
If I could roll my eyes, I would. It’s merely a pleasantry—no one knew my mother like I did, and certainly nobody grieved her like I did—but I settle for sipping my wine.
“I hope that now you have a queen, you’ll grace thekingdom with an heir,” Lagarion goes on. “We need the stability of knowing there’s someone to take over after you. To prevent... a scuffle.”
I hiss between my front teeth. My family line has ruled this land for hundreds of years. With no heir, the wardens would be left to choose their own leader, and if I know anything about dragon history, it would probably lead to a bloodbath.
“That is the plan,” I manage to say in a cool tone. What, did he not see what Nissia and I did this very morning?
I veer the conversation away. Soon, we start discussing what resources the wardens need, and I know the ask is coming. Before Lagarion can put in his request for more wood-cutting rights, though, the sound of Nissia’s bright laugh interrupts us. It’s surprisingly pleasant, like a bell.
“Sorry,” she says when she notices me staring at her. “Kalara told quite a good joke.”
The elderly warden sitting across from her chuckles. “I didn’t expect wordplay to go over quite so well with the new queen. I’m glad you found someone with a sense of humor, Vizarios, to make up for your lack of one.”
I bristle. “Do I not have a sense of humor?”
“No.” Kalara doesn’t even attempt to soften the blow. But she has always been a prickly old crone, and even my mother treated her with a little deference, like the dog that leads the pack.
Queen Nissia snorts at that, too, and I scowl at the disrespect from my own wife.
“You agree?” I demand.
“I don’t know. I’ve never tried to tell you a joke. But I could.” She taps her chin as she thinks. “Ah, I know. Why can’t a leopard hide?”
“That’s a foolish question,” I say. “Leopards always hide. They fear us, and?—”
“It’s a joke, remember?” She pokes me in the shoulder. “The leopard can’t hide because its hide is always spotted!”
Nissia bursts out into a laugh, and obnoxiously, Kalara laughs, too.
“This is child’s play,” I grouse. I do not enjoy being left out, even if Nissia is quite funny.
