The Dragons' Chosen (30 page)

He flushed. “Oh, of course.” He stopped then, his hand draped over the table and lowered his voice. “You should pick me.”

I looked at him sharply. “I beg your pardon?” The other men looked over at us, wondering what was going on.

“I’m closest to your age. We would be a good match.”

I stuttered for a moment before regaining my voice. “I’m flattered that you think so. You might be right.” I smiled at him again. “Certainly, any woman would be proud to have you at her side, whether as a friend or a mate.” Then I sighed. “But this isn’t only for me, it’s for your country as well. I have to be fair and evaluate each of you. Don’t you agree?”

He nodded sagely and moved his rook one space. “Hugh’s hot tempered, Rauf’s bull-headed and Tristan’s too cautious. I’m the fun one.” He grinned as he sized up my reaction. “We’d make a great couple.”

I smiled, taking care not to react too strongly, and then I attacked his queen.

Mercifully, it was over quickly. I thanked him and walked outside for some fresh air. I picked my way past the short white mountain flowers—“stomach flowers” my sister had called them, as the only way to see them clearly was to lie flat upon the ground. I thought about the dragons’ lands and how different life there would be for me. The men spoke of the power held by women, of women rulers even. I feared I was beginning to think like Chris. It definitely had an appeal.

I had been too long away from the strictures of my land, too long away from the tight boundaries of palace life. Even if I could, I wasn’t sure I would want to return to the conventions under which I was reared. I walked out to sit beneath the trees and watch the sun rise over the mountainside. How could I have changed so much in just a short time?

--

After our midday repast, Rauf and I started our game. He set out to amuse me as we played, regaling me with a commentary designed to flatter and please. He was a decent player but aggressive, taking risks with his men. His verbal gallantry kept me laughing and made it hard to focus.

I chose to play the bright-eyed damsel with him, as he expected.

I moved my knight. Tristan, who had been watching us play with a curious expression on his face, now erased it to a blank.

“Oh,” I said, my eyes wide, playing innocent. “Does this mean checkmate?”

I thought I saw the hint of a smile on Tristan’s face before he turned away to speak with James.

Rauf stared long at the board. “Ah, My Lady, I am undone.” His mouth curved into a smile, but the set of his jaw told a different story. “How about another round? I just wanted to give you a sporting chance.” He gave a great laugh deep from within his chest. I reassessed my perception; maybe he was just mocking himself.

I batted my eyes, playing along with this farce. “I don’t think that would be fair to your kinsmen, would it? Besides, there is yet another test.” From across the room I saw Tristan turn at my words. I pulled away from Tristan’s look of amusement.

Chris jumped in. “Remember it isn’t whether you win or lose but how you play the game,” she said with a wink.

Rauf nodded and winked back. “The only game I truly wish to win is the one for Genevieve’s heart. Now I have only the last contest with which to redeem myself.” His eyes narrowed. Was that a hint of anger in his eyes or only disappointment well-concealed?

After he left, Chris shook her head. “He’s such the flirt.”

But I remembered hearing his talk with Tristan and wondered what he had planned.

And Tristan. Even from across the hall I could feel him. Since Piers had embarrassed him by singing his song, he had shown me nothing but measured politeness. No coy remarks or flattering looks. Nothing.

But he had entered the contest. And still I wondered why.

Chapter 43

While I waited for the next game, James examined the remaining detritus of the board in excruciating detail, reinventing our game, walking Chris through Rauf’s missteps. I was fond of James in small doses. He was well-spoken, kind, and well-meaning, but long-winded.

Chris milked him all she could for dragon information. She kept directing the conversation to dragons. James’s voice became a constant hum above my head as he lectured her with an exhaustive dragon history. It was interesting at first, but as he detailed their lineage back two thousand years I found my mind wandering. I tried to leave twice but Chris was bent on learning any and all minutiae about dragons. In her current state of familial pother, I was hesitant to leave her. As they nattered on about the obscure details of dragon bodily processes, I tried not to listen. I cleared my throat politely, hoping to switch to a somewhat more refined subject. Chris glared at me.

After an evening of despair, she seemed to accept the fact that she had a dragon ancestor. Not that it mattered, of course; she was human. But now her every other comment was about dragons, though she wasn’t yet ready to tell the men. They must be curious about her new fascination with them.

I wondered about my lack of interest. How would I deal with a husband like this? Thinking on it brought the reality of my plans into sharp focus. Fear inserted itself in my very core: fire and talons and high flying acrobatics. Not only a husband, how would I deal with a child of these people? Or children? Maybe I would be barren or perhaps I would be unable to love my own half-dragon child.

I closed my eyes a moment, horrified at these thoughts. I opened them quickly enough when I heard the word virgin and my name in the same sentence.

“What’s up with the sexist bull? If you guys are so egalitarian, how do you justify insisting that Genny be a virgin?”

I felt my face burst into flame. It must be the color of my hair.

James looked surprised. “Never. Where did you get that idea? We look for someone with honor, with virtue. Someone who isn’t already in love. Someone who has the potential to bond with one person. No one ever said she had to be a virgin.”

I hoped I might descend into the bowels of the earth before this discussion of my…virtue continued.

He saw my face and misunderstood. “It isn’t a problem if you are, though.”

I grabbed Chris’s hand and squeezed hard. She shot me a glance as if taking in my color, not to mention the anger rising in my eyes. “Mmmm. Got it. Let’s drop the subject. We’re making Genny uncomfortable.”

It was beyond uncomfortable. It was humiliating.

She drew her knees up and wrapped both arms around them. “But what if you’re only part, you know, one of
them
, like Genny’s kids will be.” She blinked, remembering with whom she was speaking. “Sorry, James, part dragon, what does that mean? What traits do the children have in these mixed marriages?”

Was this never-ending? My hands clenched. I didn’t want to think about any of this. My decision to marry a man-dragon was sufficiently difficult as it was. I understood why Chris was asking. Her new knowledge caused her to reevaluate who she was, but she was wrong. She was human, even if she was from the land of Berkeley.

James prated on about wingspan, talons, and the color of scales until I could no longer bear it.

I reached forward, placing my hands rigidly on the table. “Will you cease!”

James’s mouth dropped open at my outburst.

I sighed. “My pardon, James. The strain of these contests is wearing on me. Might I have a moment with Chris, please?”

He sniffed. “I need to check if the wind has picked up anyway. Hopefully, you will be in a more agreeable frame of mind when I return.” He then left with much muttering about women.

I turned to Chris, hissing into her ear. “Nothing. It means nothing. You’ve lived your life to adulthood and never knew. Nothing will change.”

Chris whispered back, “But what if I change into a dragon when I return to school? Trust me, even in Berkeley, people will notice.”

I tried to reassure Chris, to get her to stop this fixation with dragons. “You won’t turn. Remember you told me about breaking your arm. You tried to fly and you didn’t change then. Chris, you’re human.”

“But flying, can you imagine…? Maybe if I tried again, higher this time.”

“Stop. This is nonsense. It isn’t wise to think this way.”

“Oh, give it up, Genny. You’re not my mom.”

We both sat in a puddle of silence. I shuddered both at the thoughts of flying and at my fear for Chris. I turned the subject, trying another tactic. “Don’t you think you should confide in them?”

Chris pursed her lips, the haughtiest look I had seen on her face. “I don’t see any need to discuss my ethnicity with them.”

I held my splayed hand toward her, dismayed by her secrecy.

James returned then, anxious, watching the two of us. “Are you two fighting?”

I sighed. “No, James.”

Chris smiled her sunniest and adjusted her glass-pieces. “We’re just discussing girl things.”

I waved for him to sit and rejoin us.

Chris fiddled with the chessmen. “So,” she continued to James, like a patient looking for symptoms of some sickness, “are there signs before you change, some feeling of anticipation?”

James opened his mouth to reply, but I glared him down and he quieted.

Piers and Rauf wandered in to remind us that the next match was soon.

James stepped over to his kinsmen with a shrug. “I must bid you ladies good day.”

Chris and I began resetting the chess pieces. I whispered to her, “You are looking for something that can’t happen. Remember the story you told me—you fell and broke your arm.”

She whispered back in my ear. “I
could
turn, I bet, if I had incentive enough.” Then she called out to James to wait up for her.

As they left, I rolled my eyes at her silliness.

---

Moments later, Tristan lounged two arms-lengths from me. Rauf leaned his elbow on the table, spinning me a tale of his exploits, tapping his finger on Chris’s glasses to make a point. I stared at them. When did she leave her eye-pieces? And why? She was never without them.

James sauntered in.

“Did Chris not come back with you?” I asked, looking beyond him for her.

He shrugged. “The lady needed a moment of privacy. She wanted some inspiration and incentive, she said. Didn’t say for what. She headed up to the tall outcropping across the way.”

I felt a tremor of apprehension, a flash of unease. “No! Goddess, she’s going to jump.”

Hugh’s eyes narrowed. “Why would you say such a thing?”

I stuttered, unable to retract my words. “I’m worried about her,” I finally managed to say.

Hugh spoke a single word, rolled out slowly, “Why?”

I demurred, “That’s for her to tell.”

Tristan watched my face. “Something’s wrong here. You’re white. You wouldn’t be this upset over nothing.”

Hugh grabbed my arms. “What do you mean?”

I closed my eyes, hoping that I was wrong.

Hugh shook me gently, “Genevieve, tell me, what is going on here?”

“I fear she might try to fly.”

“What? That makes no sense.”

I spoke the words hoping I wasn’t betraying a trust for no reason. “It does if she’s King Leith and Victoria’s great-grand daughter.”

--

Chris stood high atop a precipice. Surely, she wouldn’t leap off that ledge, not her. “Chris!” I shouted. The men followed my gaze.

She didn’t seem to hear me.

A muffled curse exploded from Hugh.

I couldn’t stop staring at Chris. She wouldn’t jump. I knew she wouldn’t.

I registered the distress in Hugh’s face right before he, James and Rauf took off at a run, changing from men to dragons, wings sprouting as they leapt into the air.

Chris saw us then and stepped back from the edge with a casual wave, a perplexed look on her face at the dragons winging toward her. She cupped her mouth and called across, “Don’t worry, nothing’s going to happen. I…” The wind gusted then and carried off her words.

She must have drawn back as her foot slipped on the scree, only a bit, but shale gave way beneath her weight. Her arms windmilled. She gave a startled squeak as she tipped headfirst into space. The dragons surged forward, pushing against the wind and sky to reach her.