Blood of Dragons

He had sent a messenger ahead, to inform her of the visit. He had no wish to have a vase flung at him. Something almost like a smile hovered at the corners of his withered lips. She got her spirit from her father. Briefly, he considered ordering that all heavy objects be removed from her rooms. No. That was not how to begin with her. She must not think that he feared her, nor know, completely, just how much power she held. This would be a delicate negotiation, one only he could perform.



As he had commanded, the Duke was carried to Chassim’s chambers. The locks were unfastened. ‘Knock!’ he ordered the guard who had begun to open the door. The startled man hesitated, as if questioning his order. Then he hastily rapped on the heavy panel of the wooden door and called out, ‘Lady Chassim, you are honoured with a visit from the Duke!’



A moment of silence stretched almost long enough to be insolence. Just short of defying him, she called, ‘Enter and honour me, then.’



His guards looked uncertain. Had she mocked the Duke? Were they required to kill her? He found it almost amusing, and he nodded for them to obey.



They carried him into a sunny room with thick carpets on the floor. There was a cage of songbirds in one corner and a table with a silver bowl of fresh fruit from his hothouse. Evidently courtiers had already begun to send her favours. How quickly word spread in his court! He narrowed his eyes and decided to put a stop to it. Nothing must enter this room save that he sent it. To him she must come for any little favour she sought. She must depend on him for every single thing, even a glass of water or a husk of bread. For he knew his life now depended on her.



‘A pleasant room,’ he reminded her as they lowered his chair to a spot before her hearth. A slight motion of his head dismissed his guards and bearers. He did not deign to watch them leave. He would not take his eyes off her. Witches were best watched closely. She had muffled herself most peculiarly, covered her entire body in drapery from head to foot. All he could see was her face, but at the same time he took in the details of the room. He listened to the door close behind them as he met his daughter’s gaze.



A divan in the corner held his dragon-man. He was very still but the sheet that swathed him rose and fell. By the divan were a tray bearing partially consumed food and a glass with the dregs of wine in it. So, she had fed him and the creature had eaten. Good. ‘Plenty of sunlight,’ he added to her lack of response.



‘There would be more, were there not bars on the window.’



‘That is true. Would you like me to have the bars removed? Or move you to larger quarters that do not have bars on the windows?’



That unbalanced her. The flicker of uncertainty in her eyes warmed him more than her fire did.



She drew a breath, hesitated, then bravely countered, ‘I would wish to go back to my own quarters among your women, free to walk the gardens and use the baths as I once did.’



‘Impossible, I am afraid, for it would scarcely do for my dragon-man to be quartered among my women. I do not trust them as I do my only daughter.’



The uncertainty was consternation now, and she could not mask it. Wariness swam behind her eyes. ‘What do you want?’ she asked bluntly. ‘Why have you come to see me after years of banning me from your presence?’



He stared at her for a time and she held his regard. She looks, he thought, more like me than her mother. I should have seen that years ago. There is more of me in her than in any of the sons who failed me. I have battled my dilemma, and the solution was before me the whole time. A rush of inspiration filled him. He kept his voice low. ‘I know what you’ve done. And I know your ambition.’



A shadow of fear flickered across her face but she did not speak.



‘You sought to stir insurrection against me. Rebellion. Your exhortations were skilled, for a woman. But you sought your alliances in the wrong places. To build a throne, you must build on stone, not flowers. I am stone.’



‘I don’t understand.’



He hadn’t intended that she should. He needed to draw her into the conversation, to make her think she negotiated for what he would offer her. ‘You should have come to me with your ambitions for power. Am I not your father? As much of my blood flows through you as through any son I sired. Did you think I would find your craving for power reprehensible rather than true proof you are worthy to be my daughter? To be my heir.’ He dropped his voice on the last words and was gratified to see her lean forward to catch them.



She swayed slightly; the offer had dizzied her. But she recovered quickly. ‘Mother of your heir, perhaps. Ellik told me the terms of your agreement when he … visited me here. I will be the cow that drops a calf for both of you.’