Seraphina (48 page)

A
ll the palace was in an uproar when we got back, searching for Glisselda; no one but us had known where she’d gone. She stepped out of the tunnels a tired, cold, frightened girl, but within moments, before she’d even heard the fates of her mother and grandmother, she had put her queenliness on and was reassuring panicked courtiers and terrified heads of state.

Princess Dionne had not survived the night. The Queen held on, but barely. Glisselda hurried upstairs to be at her grandmother’s side.

Kiggs went straight to his guards, demanding reports and making sure they had shifted smoothly to daytime duties. They had detained Basind; Kiggs decided he could use a good questioning and hastened off.

Lars and I were left to fend for ourselves. Without a word, he took my arm and led me through twists and turns of the corridors until we reached a door. Viridius’s manservant, Marius, answered. Viridius was shouting in the background: “What kind of whoreson dog knocks before the sun is up?”

“The sun is up, Master,” said Marius wearily, rolling his eyes and waving us through. “It’s only Lars and—”

Viridius darkened the doorway of the bedchamber, hauling himself forward with two canes. His expression softened at the sight of us. “Pardon me, my dears. You’ve awakened an old man on the wrong side of the bed.”

Lars, who was propping me up, intoned, “She needts a place to sleep.”

“She hasn’t a suite of her own anymore?” asked Viridius, clearing cushions and a robe off his couch for me. “Sit, Seraphina, you look terrible.”

“Her true nature is revealedt to the princess and prince,” said Lars, laying a hand on the old man’s shoulder. “She shouldt not hev to face the worldt until she rests, quiet, away from peoples.”

Marius went to the solarium to arrange a makeshift bed for me, but I fell asleep right there on the couch.

I dozed on and off all day. Viridius and Lars kept everyone away and asked no questions.

The next morning I awoke to Lars sitting at the end of my impromptu bed. “The princess was here,” he said. “She wants thet we come to the Queen’s studty when you are dressedt. A lot is heppenedt.”

I nodded blearily. He gave me his arm and we went together. Princess Glisselda had commandeered her grandmother’s massive desk; eight high-backed chairs, most of them already occupied, had been placed in a semicircle before her. Kiggs sat behind her to the left perusing a folded letter; he flicked his eyes toward the door when Lars and I entered but did not raise his head. To the princess’s right, like a gray shadow near the windows, stood my father. He smiled wanly. I nodded at him and followed Lars toward the two empty seats beside Dame Okra Carmine.

Abdo peeked out from behind her ample form and waved at me.

The Regent of Samsam, Count Pesavolta of Ninys, Ambassador Fulda, and the Ardmagar occupied the other seats. The Regent was clad all in severe black, his silver hair brushing his shoulders, while Count Pesavolta was wide, apple-cheeked, and bald; they wore similar sour expressions, however. Lars slumped beside me as if to make himself smaller, casting wary glances at the Regent.

Princess Glisselda folded her small hands on the desk before her and cleared her throat. She wore a white houppelande and the circlet of the first heir; golden netting restrained the exuberance of her curls. Small though she was, she seemed to fill the room with light. She said, “My mother is dead and my grandmother extremely ill. I am first heir by rightful succession. The incapacity of the Queen—St. Eustace leave her lie long as he may—necessitates my speaking, deciding, and taking action on her behalf.” The Regent and Count Pesavolta shifted in their seats, grumbling. Glisselda snapped: “Counselor Dombegh! Precedent!”

My father cleared his throat. “When Queen Favonia II was incapacitated by stroke, Princess Annette served as acting Queen until she recovered. No Goreddi would question your right, Your Highness.”

“You are but fifteen years old,” said Count Pesavolta, his round face smiling but his eyes hard. “No disrespect intended.”

“Queen Lavonda was but seventeen when she treated with me,” said Comonot unexpectedly. He rested his hands on his knees, several quig-made rings on each finger; they gleamed like a miniature hoard against the dark blue of his houppelande.

“Her youth did not excuse her foolishness,” said the Regent, glaring down his narrow nose.

Comonot did not acknowledge the comment; he was speaking only to Glisselda. “She was already Queen in her own right. Already a mother. She climbed Halfheart Pass through a raging snowstorm with only two goat-girls from Dewcomb’s Outpost to guide her. I had assumed no rational being would brave that kind of weather, so I was not even in my saarantras to greet her. My scouts brought her into our cavern, this tiny, half-frozen girl, snow whirling around her. We all stared at her, not sure what to think, until she threw back her furlined hood and unwrapped the woolen shawl from over her face. She looked me in the eye, and I knew.”

There was a long pause until Glisselda said, “Knew what, Ardmagar?”

“That I had met my match,” said Comonot, his face sharp, remembering.

Glisselda nodded at the Ardmagar, a small smile on her lips. She held a hand out to Kiggs, who passed her the folded parchment. “We received a letter this morning. Ambassador Fulda, would you please read it aloud?”

The ambassador fished a pair of spectacles out of his vest and read:

We the undersigned have seized the Kerama as of yesterday. We proclaim ourselves rightful rulers of the Tanamoot, all its lands and armies, until we are in turn removed by force
.

The traitor Comonot yet lives. He is wanted for crimes against dragonkind, including but not limited to: making treaties and alliances against the will of the Ker, detrimental to our values and way of life; indulging in excessive emotionality; fraternizing with humans; indulging deviants; seeking to alter our fundamental dragon nature and make us more human-like
.

We demand his immediate return to the Tanamoot. Failure to comply will be tantamount to an act of war. Recognize, Goreddis, that you are in no position to fight. We expect you to act in accordance with your interests. You have three days
.

“It’s signed by ten generals,” said Ambassador Fulda, refolding the parchment.

Comonot opened his mouth, but Glisselda silenced him with a gesture. “The dragon Imlann, as my governess, taught me that Goredd is mighty and the dragons are weak and demoralized. I believed it until I saw for myself how dragons fight. Orma destroyed the Wolfstoot Bridge and sheared off the top of St. Gobnait’s; where Imlann fell, an entire city block burned. How much worse if they’d been fighting us and not each other? The dracomachia is a shambles. I fear the cabal is right: we would not last alone against dragons. As much as I admire you, Ardmagar, you’re going to have to persuade me not to give you back.”

She turned to Fulda. “Ambassador, will dragonkind stand with their Ardmagar?”

Fulda pursed his lips, thinking. “It’s not a legal succession while Comonot lives. There may be those who reject the cabal for that reason alone, but I suspect the older generation will largely be in sympathy with their goals.”

“I dispute that,” said the Ardmagar.

“The younger generation,” Fulda said, pressing on, “will likely stand firm in favor of the peace. This could turn into an inter-generational war.”

“Infanta!” said the Regent of Samsam, shaking a bony finger as if to scold her. “Surely you have no intention of giving this creature political asylum? It was degrading enough that your noble grandmother—St. Eustace blindly pass her by—should have negotiated with it. Do not show it mercy when its own kind wants it dead.”

“You would be inserting your country—and the unwilling Southlands with you—into a dragon civil war,” drawled Count Pesavolta, drumming his fingers on his ample gut.

“If I may,” interjected my father. “The treaty contains a clause forbidding Goredd from interfering in internal dragon affairs. We could not meddle in a civil war.”

“You’ve tied our hands, Ardmagar,” said Glisselda, her pretty little mouth curling sardonically. “We would have to break your own treaty to save you.”

“We may have to break the treaty to save the treaty,” said the Ardmagar.

Glisselda turned to Ninys and Samsam. “You wish Comonot returned. I may decide I cannot do that. If it comes to war between Goredd and the dragons, can I rely on you? If not for help, then at least not to take arms against us opportunistically?”

The Regent of Samsam looked pale and peevish; Count Pesavolta hemmed and hawed. Each finally muttered something close to, if not exactly, yes.

“Goredd’s treaty with Ninys and Samsam banished knights across the Southlands,” continued Glisselda, her blue eyes cold and sternly fixed upon them. “I will not risk war unless we are free to revive the dracomachia. It would mean renegotiating that agreement.”

“Your Highness,” said my father, “many of the Samsamese and Ninysh knights were rumored to have fled to Fort Oversea, on the isle of Paola. Their dracomachia may be in healthier condition than ours. Altering the treaty could allow the knights of all three nations to work together.”

The princess nodded thoughtfully. “I’d want your help drafting this document.”

“It would be my honor,” said my father, bowing.

The Regent of Samsam sat up straighter, his skinny neck extending like a vulture’s. “If it means we might reinstate our valiant exiles, perhaps Samsam would be willing to negotiate some sort of nonaggression pact.”

“Ninys would never side with dragons against Goredd,” Count Pesavolta announced. “We stand behind you, of course!”

Glisselda gave an arch nod. Kiggs, behind her, had narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Ninys and Samsam would have squirmed in their seats had they realized what intense scrutiny would be upon them.

“This brings me finally to you,” said the princess, indicating us half-dragons with an elegant gesture. “We have here a fearless boy who grappled a dragon in his own version of dracomachia, a man who can design sophisticated engines of war—”

“And musical instruments,” mumbled Lars.

“—a woman who can tell the near future with her stomach, and another who may be able to find me more people of extraordinary talent.” Glisselda smiled warmly at me. “At least, you mentioned there are more. Are they all so talented?”

I almost said I didn’t know, but it occurred to me suddenly that I might. If I’d thought about it, I’d have known what to expect from these first three: Abdo was always climbing and balancing; Lars built gazebos and bridges; Dame Okra pulled up weeds before they had a chance to sprout. Every one of my grotesques engaged in idiosyncratic behaviors. Pelican Man stared at the stars. Pandowdy was a monster in his own right. Jannoula—if I ever dared to look for her again—could climb right into my mind, but maybe not just mine.

“I think we would be something formidable, all together,” I said. “And I think I could find the rest, if I went looking. I’ve wanted to find them.”

“Do it,” said Glisselda. “Whatever you need—horses, guards, money—speak to Lucian, and Lucian will make it so.” She nodded to her cousin; he nodded back, although he avoided looking in my direction.

The Regent could stand it no longer. “Your pardon, Highness, but who are these people? I know Count Pesavolta’s ambassadress, but the rest? A highland lout, a Porphyrian child, and this … this woman—”

“My daughter Seraphina,” said Papa, his face hard.

“Oh, that explains everything!” cried the Regent. “Princess? What’s going on?”

Princess Glisselda opened her mouth, but no words came out.

In that moment of hesitation, I realized she was embarrassed—for me, for all of us. We were the punch line of a hundred dirty jokes. How could she speak of such disgusting things to the leader of a foreign land?

I rose, ready to spare her the mortification. My father had the same idea and found his voice first: “I married a dragon. My daughter, whom I love, is half dragon.”

“Papa!” I cried, terrified for him, grateful, sad, and proud.

“Infanta!” sputtered the Regent, leaping to his feet. “By St. Vitt, these are unnatural abominations. Soulless beasts!”

Count Pesavolta snorted. “I can’t believe you were worried about our loyalty but are ready to trust these things. How can you ever be sure which side they will take, dragon or human? My ambassadress already seems determined to choose Goredd over Ninys. Surely this is only the first wave of her treachery?”

“I choose what’s right,” snarled Dame Okra, “as I expect you will too, sir.”

Comonot turned to Ninys and Samsam, his eyes bright but his voice filled with calm authority: “Can you not see that it’s no longer a question of dragon versus human? The division now is between those who think this peace is worth preserving and those who would keep us at war until one side or the other is destroyed.

“There are dragons who see the good of the treaty. They will join us. The young have been raised with peaceful ideals; they won’t sympathize with these grizzled generals who want their hoards and their hunting grounds back.”

He turned toward Glisselda and gestured toward the sky. “Something we dragons have learned from you is that we are stronger together. We need not take on the entire world alone. Let us stand together now for the peace.”

Princess Glisselda rose, stepped around the great oaken desk, and embraced Comonot, removing all doubt. She would not turn him over to his generals. We would be going to war for peace.