Rider Semian narrowed his eyes. 'And this other man, will he too demand a hundred gold dragons?'
He will if I have anything to do with it, thought Sollos. 'I'm sure you'll find a way to convince him, Rider.' Yes. With the point of your swords, no doubt.
With a curt nod, the dragon-knight turned away. 'Tell them we agree. But I will give them the gold, not you, and it will be one hundred dragons, not two. And sell-sword?'
'Rider?'
'We travel in the open, where we can be seen from the skies. Make sure they understand that. Make sure they understand that every step we take will be watched from above.'
'They're not stupid, Rider.'
As Sollos and Kemir walked away towards the woods where Curly Beard was hiding, the knights retreated as far from the woods as they could. Sollos looked up. The dragons were still there, distant specks high in the sky. Which was a pity, because even five minutes of Rider Semian's company was already making him wonder if there was some deal he could cut with Curly Beard that would result in six dead knights and his pockets full of gold.
Probably not, though. Curly Beard would kill him and Kemir as happily as he'd murder a dragon-knight. You were either an Outsider or you weren't, and that was that.
'Well that went well,' muttered Kemir. 'I thought you said he was an idiot. Are you going to tell Curly Beard he can only have fifty?'
'He won't take it. No, he'll get his hundred.'
'Nothing for us then. Hurrah. You should definitely have asked for a thousand.'
Sollos shrugged. 'There's still the dragonscale too. Let's not lorget that.'
'Give up. We're never going to get our hands on that.'
'And a reward for finding the white.'
'If we find it,' grumbled Kemir. 'If they pay it.' He snorted. 'Why did they bring the alchemist?'
Sollos shrugged. 'Don't know, don't care. All we have to do is make sure that Curly Beard and Rider Rod-Up-My-Arse stick to the agreement and don't start trying to kill each other. Should keep us busy enough, don't you think?'
'Let them kill each other. I'll help if you like. When they're done, we can have the gold. Suits me.'
Sollos twitched his lips. 'Don't tempt me.'
'You know, we did make an oath, a long time ago. We could always-'
'No!' Sollos stopped and took a deep breath. 'No, Kemir. These riders serve Queen Shezira, not the King of the Crags.'
Kemir shrugged. 'A knight's a knight. They all think they're little gods. We could-'
'I said no!' Sollos stamped his foot.
'Look, I'm not saying we should try and overthrow Valmeyan; I'm just saying that sticking a knife into a few dragon-knights would give me a sense of fulfilment, that's all.'
'Those days are gone, Kemir. That oath…' He shrugged. 'It was a stupid oath. Besides, there are six of them and two of us, and their dragons are watching us.'
He saw Kemir look up at the sky and wince. 'They have to sleep, you know.'
They do. Yes, they do. Sollos shook his head. However much a part of him agreed with Kemir, murdering one dragon-knight or even ten wouldn't change the world at all. As long as there were dragons, there would be men and women who rode them.
As long as there are dragons.
21
The Wedding
Meteroa, of course, timed it perfectly. When Jehal returned to the palace, everyone was waiting for him. He walked briskly into the feasting hall with Princess Lystra at his side and a spring in his step. You are the speaker in waiting…
'Drink!' he cried before he'd even reached the throne at his lolling father's side. 'Drink! A toast! Not to us, but to everyone! To each other! To life!' Then he spun Princess Lystra to face him, kissed her, and then shot a glance along the tables and made sure he caught Zafir's eye. 'Drink!' he shouted again, into the shocked quiet. 'Drink to the pounding of hearts! To the thunder of wings and the wash of fire! To the clash of swords, to the moment of the kill, to the drunken passion of lovers! Drink and shout for joy or shout with rage, I care not which, but do not fill my feasting hall with silence!'
He sat down and thumped his goblet on the table. Everyone was looking at him. This wasn't how a wedding feast was supposed to start, but he simply didn't have the stomach for hours of tedious politeness. Far better that everyone got roaring drunk.
He peered past Princess Lystra at her mother. 'Isn't this more what you're used to, Your Holiness?' He grinned.
Queen Shezira's face remained carefully blank. 'Your exuberance would, perhaps, be more appreciated in my halls than in your own.'
'I mean to make your daughter feel welcome here.'
Shezira said nothing.
'Am I a monster?' he asked her, much later, when the food was almost gone and he'd drunk too much wine. 'Is that what you think of me?'
She met his eyes. 'In another few hours you will be my son,' she said coolly. And that was all.
After everyone had gorged themselves, a troupe of musicians struck up and the dancing started. Princess Lystra came first of course, with her big wide eyes and drooping lashes and that startled look she'd worn since the day had started. Then her mother, which was like dancing with a iron statue, cumbersome and awkward and with nothing to recommend it. And then, out of nowhere, Zafir slid into his arms, sinuous and sensual, pressing herself close and filling his nose with her perfume. Jehal felt himself stir. Her hand slid up his back to the skin of his neck, and he felt a slight pricking sting. He jerked.
'What are you doing?'
Zafir looked at her hand. On one of the rings she wore was a tiny spike, and on that spike the slightest drop of blood. She touched it to her tongue and then wrapped her arm around him again. 'Reminding you that you're not immortal,' she whispered.
'I feel immortal.' He pulled her even closer, but this time she resisted.
'I am a dragon-queen, Prince Jehal, not some courtesan, and eyes are watching us.'
'Is that a poison ring you're wearing?'
'Of course.'
'Am I about to die?'
Zafir smiled. This time, when he tried to pull her closer, she didn't resist. 'Not today, my love.' She leaned into him for a second and he felt her breath on his ear. 'I saw the way you looked at her today, your little starling-bride,' she murmured. 'Enjoy the novelty, but remember that it's me who can give you what you want. If you plan to toss me aside for her, you may as well take your dagger and run me through and let us both die here and now.'
Jealous? She was jealous? For a second he thought about it. 'If you want to see which of you I want, then let us slip away and I will show you,' he said huskily.
She pushed him sharply away with a brittle smile. 'Your starling can have you today. Afterwards… we shall see.' She waved her fingers at him, letting him see the ring again, still wet with a drop of his blood.
You are the speaker in waiting…
He watched her go. Before he could launch himself after her, another pair of arms took hold of him.
'Princess Jaslyn!' Jehal forced a smile.
'Prince Jehal.'
'I cannot say why, but I did not think you to be much for dancing.' Her movements were sharp and aggressive, not like her sister, and as far away from Zafir's as it was possible to be.
'I prefer to dance in the air.'
'With a somewhat more scaly partner, no doubt.' Jehal smiled. 'So do I. So we have something in common.'
Jaslyn looked at him with scorn. 'We have my sister in common now. I am only dancing with you so I can say this quietly, where no one else will hear: whatever hurt you bring her, I will return to you tenfold.'
'And if I bring her joy?'
'Then I will have misjudged you.' She bowed and spun away.
'That hardly seems an equitable arrangement,' he called after her, but she didn't turn back. Poor Lystra. He'd expected to see her weep at the prospect of leaving her family and being forced to give herself to a man who she'd doubtless been taught to believe was a monster. Yet she hadn't. If anything, she almost seemed excited.