Page 79 of Ashborne Forged

“The king tasked you with returning your betrothed… for your own wedding?”

“By personal instruction,” Breckon returned, his eyes bright with triumph. “He understands the value of our union, and celebrates what it will bring to Fyrehold. He is personally vested in seeing our families united.” His eyes glittered on that last line.

I looked at the queen, pleading, my heart sinking.

No doubt, she understood the subtext even better than I did. He was politely telling her that his interests were the king’s interests, and if she were to interfere with them, she’d be standing against the throne of Fyrehold.

“If it is a matter of appeasing the Fyrehold King, I will send a messenger—my men would be faster than yours, given your weariness from traveling, I’m sure. A single noblewoman, taken by a dragon, and a mate, cannot cost him too greatly. He has been a great friend of Vosgaarde.”

Breckon’s smile disappeared, and his jaw tightened. “Your Majesty,” he bowed again and my blood ran cold. “I do not wish to offend, but perhaps, before you would be seen to interfere, you should know that the king is aware of the changes to the Vosgaardian throne. And while he continues peace, I must emphasize that he is quite vested in our union. I am certain that you would not want to see relations with Fyrehold impacted for the sake of that single noblewoman, as you put it?”

Diaan tilted her head slightly and stared at him. I couldn’t tell if she was stunned by his audacity to warn her—subtext or not, I doubted anyone in the room had missed the implied threat—or if she was measuring him for a noose. Her eyes glittered in a way the Courtiers’ did when they planned an assassination.

“And yet,” she said finally, slowly, “It seems you would allow the alliance of our nations to be impacted for the sake of the very same noblewoman?”

His expression flattened. “She is my betrothed. She is of the blood. And a great deal has been sacrificed to procure her. Yes, Your Majesty, a humble man like myself, without a throne, must make the best of this harsh world.” The queen looked as if she wanted to roll her eyes. “Her presence at home is of utmost importance. To me, and to the throne.

“I am pleased to enjoy my king’s personal friendship, so, I fear I could not return empty handed, with your name on my lips, without the king being urged to step in on my behalf. I’m certain you, too, have those among your Court for whom you hold a special affection?”

“I do,” Diaan replied. “Some of them in this room.” Breckon frowned, glancing at Donavyn with confusion on his face, but Diaan continued. “But let us put aside the forms,” she said firmly, her gaze icy. “Let me be certain that I do not misunderstand before we go further: Your implication, Lord Breckon, is that you believe if I keep the Lady Grace here in Vosgaarde with her dragon and mate, the Fyrehold King will be offended, and choose to move against me.”

He fought a smile. “Not on my advice, of course,” he said with a falsely modest bow of his head. “But he has rushed to my aid for much lesser offenses.”

Diaan’s brows shot up. “Offenses, you say?”

“Forgive me, Your Majesty,” he returned, without an ounce of remorse. “I should have chosen my words more carefully.”

“Oh, I believe you chose them very carefully indeed,” the queen said.

Breckon stiffened. Like me, he was unaccustomed to anyone of power who spoke plainly. Unlike me, he did not appreciate it.

Diaan sat back in her chair, regarding him thoughtfully.

And, to my horror, Breckon doubled his assault.

“Your Majesty, if you truly wish to set aside the forms, then I will do so gladly: If the Lady Grace were kept from me, I would be forced to return to the castle in Fyrehold and make certain the king understood that the decision to defy his order was yours. Only to save myself from his wrath, you understand. I couldn’t lie when he accused me of failure.”

“Of course not,” Diaan said, her tone soothing, but her eyes gleamed like the edge of a blade.

Breckon ducked his chin as if he were conceding to her wisdom. “I knew a woman of your intelligence and authority would understand.”

Diaan actually laughed—a short, dry hack, but a laugh nonetheless. For a moment my heart rose—would she hand Breckon his insults and tell him to do his worst? Vosgaarde held more power than Fyrehold.

Or at least, it had. There was no doubt, the kingdom was currently fragile, with the recent succession of the crown from the former king, to Diaan. But she was a powerful woman. Far more powerful than Breckon.

Yet, did she hold her kingdom firmly enough to challenge her closest ally and rival, Fyrehold?

“General,” Diaan said without taking her eyes off Breckon.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Lady Grace is a citizen of Fyrehold.”

“Yes, Your Majesty, I am aware.”

“But, she was Chosen? What of her dragon? One of ours?”

Donavyn’s lips turned down. “She is now. They both arrived with one of our Furyknights. Grace was acknowledged and Koa submitted to Kgosi. The herd acknowledged them both, and Grace began her training. She’s bonded to—”