“Who is it?” she called out across the room.
“Saria, Miss. I’ve come to see if you need any assistance in getting ready for the dinner later. May I come in?”
Jahrra glanced over her shoulder at her wrinkled clothes, then whipped her head back around.
“Yes!”
The young woman entered the receiving chamber and, upon seeing Jahrra wrapped up in the towel, her hair still wet, frowned.
“You are not yet dressed,” she remarked.
Jahrra shook her head. “I was trying to decide on which dress to wear. The blue one needs a wash, but the other one is terribly wrinkled.”
Saria lifted both eyebrows, then grinned. “No worries, Miss Jahrra! Just tell me which dress you’d like to wear, and I’ll take it down to the launderers. They can work miracles with creased fabric.”
Jahrra stepped back into the small bedroom and indicated the more ornate garment. Saria’s mouth gaped open. “My word! That is a gown fit for an empress!”
Jahrra felt her face redden slightly. She had been thinking the very same thing and now wondered how on Ethoes Jaax had paid for such a dress. Did he have a wealth of treasure horded away in some dank cave somewhere? She smiled at the images crossing her mind and turned back to the maid.
Shrugging, Jahrra responded, “Jaax said I needed clothing appropriate for state dinners and Coalition events, so he ordered some formal clothes sewn while we lived in Lidien.”
Saria’s look of surprise increased, and she turned her gaze onto Jahrra’s face. She reached out and traced the stitching with a finger, stopping when she encountered one of the sparkling emeralds.
“That dragon must think the world of you, Miss,” she murmured.
That comment only made Jahrra arch an aporetic brow. True, Jaax had expressed his pride in her actions of late, but thinking the world of her? That was a rather presumptuous statement to make from someone who knew neither Jahrra nor her guardian. Saria was just impressed with the gown, Jahrra decided, and she had let her wonder get the better of her. Still, an uncomfortable warmth tinged Jahrra’s cheeks.
Wanting to redirect the subject, Jahrra cleared her throat and then asked, “You don’t think it’s too much, do you?”
Saria stepped back and grinned, an impish glint to her eye. “Not if you want to make a bold impression on our king.”
Feeling more confident with her decision, Jahrra smiled, and the maid swept up the beautiful gown, doing her best to contain the many yards of fabric, then headed for the door.
“I’ll be back in no time. While the castle staff are attending to your dress, we’ll work on your hair.”
Jahrra reached up a hand and gathered a strand of the wet, tangled mess hanging past her shoulders. The weeks of traveling had not been kind to it, but she thought a trim might help. True to her word, Saria was back within ten minutes and helped Jahrra cut, dry and style her hair into something fitting a guest of the royal court.
“There,” the young maid said with a grin. “Now, you wait here. I’ll go see if your dress is ready.”
While she waited, Jahrra walked out onto the patio adjoining her suite. As soon as she stepped into the open air, she noticed a significant difference in the temperature. She had donned her pajamas before Saria started with her hair, and the thin fabric did little to fend off the chill. Nevertheless, it didn’t bother her. In fact, it cleared her foggy mind, and she let her thoughts wander onto a subject she’d been trying to avoid. Although Jaax and Ellyesce hadn’t directly told her they would be making their way to Ghorium after getting their answer from the Creecemind king, Jahrra knew in her heart, and from their behavior, that their journey from Nimbronia would begin the final steps toward her destiny.
A shiver that had nothing to do with the rapidly dropping temperature of the mountains at nightfall coursed through Jahrra’s body. She was not ready for this, even after Jaax’s reassuring words earlier that day. She trusted her guardian and Ellyesce to watch after her, and do all they could to keep her safe, to keep all of them safe. And, she trusted in her own instincts and in the lessons Viornen and Yaraa had taught her so many years before. But that fear she’d revealed to Jaax scant hours ago, she just couldn’t shake. Even if Dhuruhn decided to help them and accompany them to the east, that was no guarantee that she, and all those she loved, would make it through the war alive. It didn’t even promise a victory over a tyrant who, if he gained the full power he sought, could never be defeated again. Any number of things could happen to them on the final part of their journey, and so much had happened to them already. A sprained knee and a broken, betrayed heart would be the least of her injuries.
The sound of the door opening and closing drew Jahrra’s attention back to the present.
“You see,” Saria breathed, holding up the now crease-free dress. “Good as new. Now, shall we finish getting you dressed? I saw many diplomats and nobles mingling in the hallway outside the dining room, waiting for the king to invite them in. The hour must be drawing near.”
Jahrra stepped down from the patio and back into the warmth of the great room, smiling at the maid’s cheerful demeanor and trying not to think about how closely her last words so similarly matched Jahrra’s own dismal thoughts.
“Relax, Raejaax. I’m sure she’s on her way.”
The soothing notes of Sapheramin’s reassuring voice did nothing to calm the Tanaan dragon. He paced, as well as a dragon could pace in a corridor crowded with patrons waiting patiently outside the king’s grand dining hall. His claws clicked against the polished marble and ice floors, the harsh notes barely discernible over the buzz of animated conversation. As he turned to stalk back toward his Korli friend, he nearly whipped an elf with his tail. The elvin noble glared at the Tanaan dragon, but didn’t dare make his complaints aloud.
Not that Jaax noticed. Jahrra’s tardiness, and the fact that he had been required to dress for the occasion, had darkened his mood. A stylized bloodrose, composed of cut rubies, garnets, topaz and emeralds, hung from a thick golden chain draped around his neck, and a golden circlet marking his elevated rank in the Coalition of Ethoes sat perched atop his head. Despite having left his position to Kehllor in Lidien, he was still viewed as one of the association’s top advisors. The ornaments denoting his status were similar to those he had once worn to important functions in Lidien, but much finer and on loan from King Dhuruhn’s treasury for the night. Thank Ethoes. Jaax hated the audacious dress of the royal court and all the fanfare that came with it. He was looking forward to returning the items as soon as the banquet was over.
The only piece of jewelry he didn’t mind wearing was the large spirit stone ring resting on one of his scaly fingers. Jaax glanced down at the ring and forgot his irritation for a moment. The stone shown brilliantly, its many colors standing out against the pallid white and blue tones of the ice palace, the dark heart speck near its center, a deep red drop of Jahrra’s own blood frozen within the gem like a near-black ruby. Jaax’s gaze shifted from the ring to his knuckle. A small scar, in the place where a scale had once resided, made the dragon smile. The mark represented Jahrra’s first victory against him. The ring and the scar, two reminders that symbolized his ward so well. One portraying her kindness and generosity, the other her fierce determination to tackle those challenges presented before her.
The creaking of the great dining hall doors sliding open snapped Jaax away from his reverie. Instantly, his black mood returned. He snarled under his breath as the courtiers, diplomats and visiting nobles pressed forward, a rush of glittering gems, rich fabrics and heady perfumes crashing into the room like a wave spilling upon the ocean shore.