Chapter 25

The minutes dragged on and on, and though Solithi and King Arelon were visible outside the window, Gwendolyn couldn’t tell what was going on from her vantage point. After another long minute, she was startled when a servant, who had slipped in through another door, tapped her on the shoulder.

“My Lady,” he said with a gracious bow. “The King requests your presence outside on the lawn,” he said.

Gwendolyn was shocked, and for a second she stared at the servant blankly. After another pause, she shook her head slightly and then stood. Across from her, Prince Aparen stood as well.

“Your Highness,” the servant said to Prince Aparen, “your father only asked for Lady Gwendolyn.”

“Hmm,” said the Prince, as he turned and strode away. The servant looked, bewildered, after the Prince for a brief moment, then gestured to Gwendolyn.

“After you, please, my Lady,” the man said. Gwendolyn hurried along after the Prince, the dining hall watching her and whispering behind their hands.

Gwendolyn had emerged from the Onyx Dining Room before she realized she didn’t know how to get onto the courtyard. When the servant, a man who had the look of Shark Isle about him in his tan skin and light eyes, emerged he seemed to understand her confusion, and he guided her through an archway and into a hall. That hall had a door leading into the courtyard.

Gwendolyn had only met the Duchess, but she had read about the people of Shark Isle before. It had been an independent locality until King Arelon’s grandfather conquered it. By the terms of the treaty which ended the fighting, nobles representing Shark Isle had to be born on Shark Isle. This, she knew, had created quite a bit of resentment for ambitious lower stationed earls looking for advancement.

“Thank you,” she said to the servant as he opened the door to the courtyard for her. “By chance, are you from Shark Isle?”

The man chuckled. “In fact, no. My mother is from Shark Isle, but she moved to Ardelen before I was born with my father, a shipping merchant. I’ve been told I favor her in looks.”

“You do, at least, you seem to. I’ve read about Shark Isle, but only recently met someone actually from there. But the descriptions I’ve read indicated that residents of Shark Isle have grey or brown eyes, rather tan skin, and that many of them have the…” she indicated his jaw. Just where his jawline connected to the neck on his right side, he had a slight indent, which was darker than the surrounding skin.

“Oh yes,” he said, rubbing it gently, with a smile. “Legend has it that my ancestors were once blessed by the Third Goddess with the power to breathe water as though it were air. Though I don’t think anyone alive today would care to try it. Whatever was once there, we no longer have that blessing. It’s just skin now.”

“I’ve heard Shark Isle is beautiful.”

“Oh, yes. We have a city almost as large as Ardelen, though it sits on the water. The King maintains a Palace there, perhaps you’ll visit one day.”

“I would like that—” Gwendolyn was cut off by the sound of the King calling her name. “Sorry,” she said, with a half curtsy. She could not quite get used to not having to curtsy to most people she met and seemed to be compromising with a half gesture. “I must go,” she added as she hurried off.

“Your Majesty,” she said, bowing her head as she hurried over, then dipping into a curtsy as she came to a halt. “My apologies, I had never met anyone from Shark Isle until recently, I got carried away with my interest.”

“You needn’t apologize,” King Arelon said, looking up toward the top of the Palace. Gwendolyn followed his gaze and saw Harplie and Liella perched on the roof, looking down at the scene below.

“They came to help,” Prince Aparen said. “With my brother’s passing, we can’t communicate with Solithi directly. We don’t have a blood bond with her. But of course, dragons can communicate with other dragons.”

Solithi sat on the lawn, licking her claws. Though she looked supremely unbothered, Gwendolyn noticed that Solithi slyly looked over at her. With a small giggle, Gwendolyn crossed the space between them and put a hand on Solithi’s back. Solithi immediately dropped her carefree act, nuzzling up against Gwendolyn.

“Apparently,” King Arelon said, “she won’t leave until you give her attention.” To his son, the King muttered, “like a lapdog, but big enough to knock down the walls of the palace.”

Prince Aparen laughed, then he stepped forward to pet Solithi. “She’s very attached to you,” he told Gwendolyn. “I suspect this is not the last time we will have this problem.”

“Oh,” Gwendolyn said, suddenly remembering she had meant to speak with the King. “Gavral had asked me to speak to you, she actually… uh, visited the Violet Chalet, the day I moved in.”

“Did she break anything?” King Arelon looked horrified.

“Just some plants. She landed on the roof. The problem is that Gavral is afraid she will do it again and will cause the roof to fall in.” Gwendolyn explained. Solithi nudged Gwendolyn’s hand to her neck, where Gwendolyn instinctively began to scratch gently.

“I see,” said the King. “Well, this is problematic.” He looked up at the older dragons, who were still gazing down at the scene. He once again looked to be concentrating, his eyes on Harplie, whose scales shimmered gently in the fading light. Conversely, Liella, a white-ish grey dragon, did not shimmer at all. Rather, her scales had a clouded, thickly colored appearance, making her look more well-armored than other dragons Gwendolyn had seen.

“Harplie says that Solithi is lonely,” King Arelon said. His voice contained a note of deep sadness. “The blood bond between my lineage and the dragons is very deep. One of my brothers lost his dragon prematurely and the grief drove him insane.”

“She was different when I met her, jumpier. Not insane, of course. But it could have been grief,” Gwendolyn offered.

“It likely was,” Prince Aparen replied. “It’s much more common for men to die before their dragons, and when dragons lose their parette, they almost always return to the City of Gold. It can be difficult for them to live among bonded pairs of humans and dragons without their own pairing.”

“Is that where Bente went?” Gwendolyn asked. The King shot her a look, askance, seeming surprised.

“How do you know about Bente?” he asked her.

“Oh, I, I’m sorry,” Gwendolyn stuttered nervously, “I heard a rumor, I guess. That part of the treaty involved your eldest son giving up his dragon.”

The King nodded thoughtfully. “Yes, Bente returned to the City of Gold. He does visit, from time to time. He has always been particularly close with Princess Sharaa’s dragon, Rowan. They maintained a loving friendship despite the differences between Marcal and Sharaa.”

“Well,” Prince Aparen said, looking down from the roof where he had been staring at Liella, “I don’t think Solithi will agree to return to the City of Gold, not if she can’t even get through an evening without visiting Lady Gwendolyn.”

“No, I rather think not.” King Arelon turned toward Gwendolyn. “Lady Gwendolyn, my men tell me you can communicate with Solithi, even though you don’t have a blood bond. Is that true?”

“Well, in a sense,” Gwendolyn said hesitantly. “I can’t hear what she is saying, or anything like that. It’s more like… reading her body language. Getting a general sense of what she is thinking or what she wants. She does seem to understand me, though. At least a little.”

“Unusual,” King Arelon mused.

“Why?” Gwendolyn asked him.

Prince Aparen answered, saying, “dragons do understand our tongue, in a way, but rarely do they react to it. What you’re describing is deeply unusual. Liella, for example, understands what is going on now, at least in the broad strokes, but she won’t act unless I directly tell her to.”

“How do you do that?” Gwendolyn asked, curiously.

“It’s a talent of the blood bond,” King Arelon said. “We can speak to our dragons within our own heads, we call it the echo.”

“Ah, yes, I see. I can’t do that,” Gwendolyn said.

The King and the Prince both pondered Solithi, and then the King turned to Prince Aparen. “This presents a unique challenge.”

“It does,” his son replied. “I am not sure it can be solved tonight, and we do have guests waiting. Perhaps we can call a council tomorrow before the festivities?”

“The nobles will not appreciate being asked to work during the Festival, but it may be a good idea,” the King mused. After a second, he clapped his hands. “Gwendolyn, can you please explain to Solithi that you’re in the middle of an important event, but that you’ll visit her in the morning?”

Solithi cocked her head curiously. Gwendolyn smiled at her and said, “Solithi, I have to go back inside. How about we go for a ride in the morning?”

Solithi made a loud, booming noise. It sounded happy, but still caused Gwendolyn’s heart to skip a beat with fear.

“Apparently,” Prince Aparen said, “Solithi wants you to know that visiting once a week isn’t curing her loneliness. She wants to spend more time with you.”

“Well that’s why I’ll visit tomorrow, I know it’s been a week since you came to my home, so we can discuss my visiting more often then, okay?”

Solithi stood, walked in circles for a few rotations, and then stretched her wings.

The King, Prince Aparen, and Gwendolyn all stepped back as Solithi took off and flew off into the night sky. After a second, the two older dragons followed suit.

“You aren’t thinking what I think you are thinking, are you?” Prince Aparen whispered to his father in a low breath as the three people began to traipse back across the lawn toward the entryway.

“I am,” King Arelon replied. “Though I know it won’t be a popular move with the noble houses.”

“Perhaps,” Prince Aparen whispered. “Though at least you can count on many of the Earls to decline to attend.”

“I’d prefer not to win by deception,” the King responded.

“That isn’t deception,” Prince Aparen replied, “though I suppose it is somewhat strategic.”

They ceased their conversation as they emerged back into the hall, where the young servant was still waiting. He escorted them back into the Onyx Dining Hall, with a series of flourished bows and a series of murmurs of “my Lady,” and “your Highness,” as they proceeded back into the feast.

No sooner had they taken their seats than the main course was served, a line of servers bursting through the back doors of the dining room. Before Gwendolyn, one set a beautifully cooked and perfectly tender looking cut of roasted chicken. It smelled exotically seasoned and was accompanied by boiled grains topped with sliced and chopped peppers.

After a few minutes of enthusiastic eating, Duchess Rayla leaned over and whispered, “what was that all about?”

Gwendolyn set down her knife and fork. She took a moment to finish chewing, then pat her lips daintily with her napkin. As she did so, she placed the napkin’s crest, the seal of the Maitala family, so that it did not touch her lips and faced outward. Another custom she had learned from the book Prince Aparen had gifted her that she was deeply grateful for, she was very conscious of each movement during the dinner.

“Apparently,” she said, “Solithi misses me. Quite a bit, it seems.”

“Well, I can’t blame her,” Duchess Rayla said, “as you did save her life. What did my father say about the matter?”

“Just that it was unusual. And that he would be convening the Council? I’m not sure why, or even what that entails.”

“You’ll know soon enough,” Duchess Rayla replied. “As a marquess, you are a member of the Council.”