The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) (3 page)

“I have a mare about to drop,” Alek answered. As Top Breeder on the planet, Alek’s whole life focused around the ceffyl mares and steeds. The animals carried supplies for the soldiers, helped the farmers, provided planetary travel and in very extreme times were used for meat. Unfortunately, they had a gestation period of three years and only about half of the pregnancies made it to term. “I plan to leave as soon as possible to attend the birth.”

The king nodded, knowing the importance of such a task. “Let us hope your bride is willing for a quick journey, but if she is not, let her stay behind with your brothers and they shall bring her to you at a more leisurely pace.”

Alek nodded but didn’t answer. Vlad knew the man didn’t think marriage likely.

What had they told him just moments before entering the king’s hall?

If you do not find a bride, let no emotion show on your face. You will want to scream to the gods your disappointment. However, others will be looking to us to know how to act.

If you do not find a bride, we will gather at the cliff campsite so that we can depart first thing after the ceremonies are completed. Trust us. You will not feel much like joining the celebration below. Drink with your brothers instead. It is not so bad sleeping under the night sky.

If you do not find a bride…

If you do not find a bride…

If…

Vlad could well translate their meaning. They had been saying things like that the whole trip down the mountains, preparing him for the disappointment they believed was to come. He knew they meant well, but he did not want his first time at the festival to be dampened by their moods. Where they felt resignation, he felt hope. He wanted to find a wife, wanted to look upon the faces of the women who’d come to them.

The brides knew they came for marriage and were willing to accept who fate chose for them. He had pictured the type of woman he’d be blessed with, fantasized about her, not only in the bedroom but in everyday activities—hiking and camping in the forest, hunting and training, running through the mountains at full speed until sweat and dirt marred their bodies. She would be tough and wild, sparring with him one minute and aggressively making love to him the next. She would take on mountains and hard rapids. She would escape the drudgery of nobility with him and they would go to the forest every chance they got. He could imagine no other kind of bride, for those were the things he loved. Those were the things he’d prayed diligently for.

Vlad smiled.
An untamed soul for my untamed soul.

“Now that business is attended to, sit, eat.” The king gestured to a nearby table. They were in the main hall where the palace inhabitants normally gathered to dine. The red stone floor was swept clean. The room had steeply arched ceilings with the center dome for light. Banners of the family crest lined the walls, one for each color of the soon-to-be family lines of his cousins—green for Prince Olek, red for Prince Zoran, black for Prince Yusef and blue-gray for Prince Ualan. Each banner had the embroidered silver symbol of the dragon.

Lines of tables reached across the floor but were currently empty. The king waved to servants, directing them to serve the visitors. As if anticipating the order, two men came into the room carrying pitchers and goblets and set them out on the table.

When the servants retreated, the king said, “Your cousins will be in to greet you shortly. Perhaps your calm can settle their spirits. They bounce around here like children about to get a new sword.” Though the man grumbled, his own steps had a decisive air of excitement to them as he left the brothers alone.

Outside the mountain fortress palace, the festival grounds were being constructed in a wide valley filled with pyramid-shaped tents and decorated by waving banners. Servants busily worked to make sure everything was in order before the Galaxy Brides’ shipment arrived. Vlad wondered if the festival was always so big. In previous years, he had been too busy to join the festival as an observer. He’d been needed to attend the mines, or to entertain intergalactic diplomats, or once to even direct the cleanup after a fire took most of their castle’s kitchen. To hear his brothers describe it, the ceremony was hardly worth mentioning.

Perhaps the scale of the ceremony this year was due to the fact that their cousins, the royal Princes of Draig, were scheduled to attend—all four of them in their first ceremony. Vlad especially looked forward to seeing Prince Yusef. They shared much of the same mentalities—uncomplicated living, a love for the outdoors, an easygoing nature that did not thrive on the usual pomp and circumstance of nobility. They often tracked
baudrons
together in the north hunting grounds. Yusef would understand and perhaps share in his excitement, whereas his brothers did not.

Vlad wanted to tell them not to bother waiting for him, that he and his new bride would spend a few days at the palace, but as he looked at their quiet faces, he felt the first true pang of worry deep in his gut. What if he didn’t find someone? What if in seven years he was sitting right in this spot, trying not to think of the pyramid tents being erected and warning others not to expect too much from this ceremony?

His heart beat harder and his stomach knotted into a tight ball. Excitement turned to worry, which tried to turn into fear. But Vlad was a warrior first, as were all the Draig, and warriors did not give in to fear and doubt. Tonight he would find a wife. He had to. His heart would not accept failure.

Chapter Two

“I understand what I ask of you is highly unusual,” the king said to his four sons and four nephews. They stood, already dressed for the night’s ceremony though dusk still had hold of the countryside. A long white tent had been constructed near the palace, away from the bridal tents dotting the valley below. The arrangement the king proposed was indeed highly unusual.

The Galaxy Bride’s ship hovered in the sky, making the necessary maneuvers to land the large space craft on its designated field. Inside, the craft was full of women—women just waiting to join with a husband. It took all of Vlad’s willpower not to look up at the sky like a starving man seeing a loaf of blue bread.

The king’s continued words drew Vlad’s attention back to the white tent. “However, Lady Clara of the Redding comes from a family of strict customs.” His uncle wore an odd expression, as if he would say more but thought better of it. “Her traditions dictate she only marries into nobility or royalty, and she is not to intermingle with the other unmarried women. Should she not find her match, she will be escorted back to her ship and will forgo attending tonight’s ceremony. Her people have agreed that, should she marry tonight, from that point on she will recognize our customs as her own, as she will then be given over to our care.”

“I have never heard of such an agreement,” Prince Ualan said. “Why would she not wish to meet all the bachelors? How is she to know the will of the gods if she does not?”

“I would hate to think some man goes without a wife because this Clara would not marry beneath her station,” Prince Yusef added.

“The reason we have these ceremonies is that all are equal. Decisions are made by fate, not power or money or a man’s position,” Bron agreed. “I find this odd.”

“Then fate will decide if she is meant to be with any of you or none,” the king interrupted the discussion starting between the grooms. “The gods have entrusted we elders to be their voices and, in this matter, we have decided to respect the culture of Lady Clara’s people. She is inside this tent. It is my command that you be presented to her.” He gave a pointed look to the three men who had failed to find a wife at previous ceremonies.

Alek lifted his chin stubbornly. Bron frowned. Mirek kept his eyes on the tent.

“I see no reason not to try,” the king insisted.

All of the grooms shared looks and slowly began to put the traditional leather mask over their features to hide their faces from forehead to upper lip. As was customary for the grooms, they all wore a fur loincloth, a gold band around their biceps, the mask and their sacred crystals around their necks. The outfits were to make nobles indistinguishable from peasants—though in this instant it didn’t seem to matter. Lady Clara knew she was only being presented to nobles. However, choosing a marriage partner was not about such things as power and money and position. It was about compatibility, fate, destiny, the will of the gods.

Vlad had his doubts about meeting Lady Clara like this, but not to the extent the others were expressing. The odds were slim that the gods would choose her to be his wife out of all of the other women coming to his planet. He looked up at the bridal ship. It was closer now, the bottom of it hidden by the tops of the giant forest trees surrounding the valley.

Mirek nudged his shoulder, drawing his attention to the fact he was supposed to be following his cousins into the tent. He gave a rueful grin and moved toward the entrance. Soon. Fate would bless him with a bride very soon. He could feel it.

* * *

“I cannot wear that gown.” Clara looked at the practically nonexistent garment and then dismissed it with a deliberate turn of her body.  The traditional Qurilixian dress was constructed of a soft material with a natural sheen. Problem was there wasn’t enough of the slinky stuff to cover her entire body. In fact, it was only a couple of small rectangles of material with a few straps that went in so many directions she wasn’t sure how to even put the thing on. And, if by some miracle she made it into the gown, the tight fit wouldn’t leave much of her body to the imagination. Besides, the width of the Redding skirt would keep them at a respectable distance. She didn’t want to risk accidental skin contact.

Clara kept her hands at her sides and took her eyes from the offensive dress. It might be this primitive planet’s custom, but there was no way in all of the known galaxies that she would be showing anyone, let alone strangers, such an inappropriate amount of flesh. “I am sure my noble mother knew nothing of its construction. I will simply manage with what I now wear.”

“We were ordered to prepare you as per the custom of the planet,” Eula protested. The traveling companion moved to lift the garment toward her mistress. “Your mother wishes for you to have every advantage of making this work.”

The words were like a slap in the face, though Clara did not acknowledge the unintentional insult. It wasn’t Eula’s fault that Clara’s unmarried status and situation was publicly known. The commoners did like their noble gossip.

Confronted with the offensive garment yet again, Clara glanced down at it. “I am not like the common brides being presented later this evening. I will not compromise myself or etiquette by putting that on.” Her gaze traveled to the two small slippers that matched the bridal gown. “I will, however, compromise by wearing the shoes. You may unlace my boots and put them on me.”

She didn’t mean to sound so demanding, but her emotions were beginning to churn and she was having a hard time keeping them suppressed. Unhampered emotions led to chaotic thoughts, and she would not put the burden of her feelings on Eula. The woman might not have the same level of sensitivity that ran in Clara’s family line, but the servant would be able to detect Clara’s emotions if the lady allowed herself to feel them.

Clara sat on a low bench, balancing easily as Eula began the slow process of unlacing a boot. The footwear went all the way up her thigh, hugging tight to her legs. With the weight of the jeweled gowns, the boots were useful in keeping a lady on her feet. They braced the muscles, supporting them during a long day of standing still.

The servant was careful not to press her palms forward, using only the tips of her fingers to work. To dull their sensitivities, many commoners would rub sand on their baby girls’ palms to callus them. Sometimes Clara wished she had been so lucky. There were times when walking outdoors could be overwhelming—not that noblewomen went outside often. If they wanted nature, they could visit the animal containment, the menagerie or the aquarium inside the Great Lords’ Palace. The number of animals was well monitored, not like in nature, and it made her empathic abilities bearable.

Today her gown felt very heavy. The tight purple bodice was overlaid with a soft gossamer cream. Though it showed a hint of cleavage, it was a respectable amount. The skirt belled out from her hips, wider on the sides than on the front and back. As she sat, she rested her hands to her sides, elbows bent back with wrists lightly set on the skirt’s study frame.

The heavy weight of her wig kept her from leaning forward to watch much of what Eula did. The traveling companion was pretty and young with a husband of five years. Her husband, a stoic man of very few words, piloted their ship. Clara wanted to ask the woman if the man ever spoke in complete sentences to his wife in private, but such a question was beyond rude. People did not inquire into the state of another’s marriage.

Clara felt the boot give way only to be replaced with a tiny slipper. She curled her toes, testing the strange freedom of movement as she slid her other foot forward so Eula could begin to remove the second boot. The shoes would be hidden by her skirt, but she felt it a fair compromise.

When Eula finished, Clara stood. The tent walls were a bright white, enough to let light through from the darkening outside, thick enough to hide any trace of the outdoors. Unfortunately, the floor was dirt so she was forced to walk on the extra bolts of material her mother had sent with her. They were unrolled onto the floor to create a path from her dressing room to the main part of the tent. The ceiling was low in places, dangerously close to touching her wig. As she walked along the silken path, she felt the curve of the ground beneath her feet. The slippers were strange, as if she walked barefoot, and they did little to help brace the gown’s weight. Already her leg muscles began to protest the lack of support.

Her skirt brushed against the material walkway, making a light swishing noise with each step. Eula walked ahead to pull back the thick veil partitioning the private dressing area from the rest of the tent. At the same moment, the Draig king entered from the other side. She stopped, holding perfectly still. He was a kind man with an overly expressive face that she found both strange and fascinating. She wasn’t used to men who smiled so readily and laughed with very little provocation. When she’d met him, he’d actually looked as if he might touch her hand. She, of course, hadn’t moved to encourage such familiarity, but the fact he’d offered it with so little thought made her wonder what manner of people these Draig of the planet Qurilixen were.