Kailigh returned to her room, escorting Cin on a walk for a good thirty minutes, fast enough to get blood flowing in the girl’s limbs, but not too fast to tire her out. A bath and a change of clothing and Cinvarra was pleasantly tired. Amnan kept his word and sent a member of his staff to attend to them. Kailigh discussed sizes, styles, and colors with the woman who took careful notes and returned several hours later with a selection of clothing and accessories.

Kailigh surveyed the dresses on the bed, pleased with the variety.

“Is there something here you can wear?” the woman asked, not quite hovering.

Kailigh glanced at her. “Oh, yes. You chose very well.”

The lilac for Cinvarra, with navy embroidery and a flowing skirt. Pretty and romantic, but not too sophisticated for a young woman not yet of age. Women did marry as young as sixteen—and they certainly had babies—but Kailigh preferred her daughters enjoy their childhood to the fullest before sampling the responsibilities of motherhood and running a household. And a man.

A bronze-colored dress of silk for Serephone in a sleeveless corset style to show off strong shoulders and toned brown arms. The skirt would skim above her knees in the front but sweep to the floor in the back. Green for Persia, a high-necked dress that bared her back and hugged her hips to mid-thigh then fell in several layers of sheer fabric to her ankles.

Serephone and Persia came in the room after Kailigh chose, and mostly didn’t argue, though they put on a good enough show for the sake of pride. No young woman wanted her mother dressing her like a toddler—but Kailigh really did have a good eye for these things.

“What are you wearing, Ma?” Persia asked, eyeing a dress on the bed. She lifted it from the pile.

Kailigh glanced at the scarlet fabric and snorted. “I don’t think so. The navy, I think. Red is too formal.”

Persia folded her arms. “I won’t wear mine if you don’t wear the red.”

Kailigh frowned at her daughter. “You’ll do as you’re told and be glad to have a new dress.”

Persia laughed. “Not twelve anymore, Ma. That tone doesn’t work on me. The red.”

Several hours later, she brushed and braided her long dark hair at the back of her neck, not bothering with the tiny pots that had been left for her, clear jars of different powdered minerals meant to enhance the female face. Kailigh had no use for such things, though she knew the girls were having a merry time. For all their talk of not wanting husbands, they weren’t putting up much of a fight with all the dressing up. Not even Serephone.

When they emerged from their room, Kailigh held her breath a moment. Three dark-haired, feral-eyed beauties. And because she was their mother, she held up a finger so each one would twirl. Satisfied their blades were properly strapped in place and adequately covered by the dresses, Kailigh nodded.

“My daughters look like very capable helpmeets. Any man would be glad to have you to wed.”

“You’ve bought into this then?” Serephone asked.

“It’s an opportunity,” Kailigh said. “Wealth, security… it’s easier if you have a partner to build with. There was a time people married on a whim, because they thought themselves in love.”

Serephone grimaced and Kailigh smiled. “Yes. But the point now is to combine resources. Like a business arrangement, only you hope you can be friends and lovers with your partner.” She regarded them, sober. “The terms of our agreement are that at least two of us must wed, and there be at least one child born between us.” She hesitated. “These Dwyrkin are odd. Especially the dragon shifters. If there’s a man I can deal tolerably with, who is interested, then I’ll wed to spare at least two of you girls having to make a hasty choice. Persia, Serephone—Cinvarra is young yet. It would be better if one of you—”

“I don’t mind, Mother,” Cinvarra said. “There are worse things, and it would go easier in town if the men knew we had male relatives.”

Kailigh knew it. The reality made her teeth grit in ire—damned if she couldn’t take care of herself just fine—but the reality was that life was easier for a woman with masculine relatives. And they had to live in reality, not in a land of wishful thinking where their gender was irrelevant. She’d been told that even in the days before the War, women had had to fight for full rights.

“All right. But remember—you aren’t required to do anything more tonight than present yourselves. And you aren’t cows. This isn’t an auction.” She took a deep breath, released it. “Maddugh’s son assured me you are all under the protection of his household, which means the men will be forced to be respectful. But pay attention to how they act after they’ve had a few drinks. That’s always a true enough measure of a man’s innards.”

* * *

Amnan eyed the women, a little put out his father had decided to arrange an entire faire simply to impress one human female. The mother would be enough of a challenge to keep in line, but the eldest daughter… he stared at her from the relative safety of his perch. He had a feeling if he stared at her openly, she would shove a blade in his eye for his trouble. An interesting one, and not entirely sane if he was a judge of such things.

But looking at her, his mouth quirked. He wasn’t as enthusiastic as his father and Hrutha at the prospect of entertainment, but Serephone was interesting enough—if he could keep her from killing someone. Father didn’t seem at all disturbed by the idea.

He’d patted Amnan on the back. “Just watch her knife hand. It twitches when she feels threatened—I’ll have to tell Kailigh to work on that.”

“I’m not sure informing Mistress Kailigh on the shortcomings in her training of her daughter is the best way to win her heart.”

Maddugh grinned. “It’s all in the tone of voice, my boy.”

Amnan sighed. “Young humans should be flooding the faire, as you asked. There will be plenty of beer to loosen tongues, and plenty of opportunities for mischief if you are so inclined.”

“Hmm. No, no, let’s just watch and see if anything starts organically. If there are shenanigans afoot, they won’t waste a chance to strike.”

“Or maybe they are biding their time.”

Maddugh’s eyes narrowed. “Watch Gaston. Especially if he speaks to Kailigh. Once it is known she belongs to me, he may see her as an opportunity. And my son?”

“Yes?”

His father’s eyes snapped. “If you lay a finger on my woman again, I will chomp it off. Go hunt your own.”

* * *

The Dwyrkin liked to start their parties early. In the mining town, a celebration would begin well after dark, when the day’s work was complete and people had a chance to feed their children and wash up a bit. In Maddugh’s bustling town center, shops opened their doors, thresholds decked with what she suspected were boxed decorations just waiting for a chance to display, and workers loitered in the streets.

If his castle was built to hug the mountain, the town was built to hug the castle. They’d walked down a two-lane cobbled highway about a half mile before the shops began. Mostly two-story white-washed buildings of the same rough-cut stone as the castle. Brightly painted doors and shutters along with clay pots of wildflowers decorated many of the buildings. Sheer curtains fluttered in windows above the shops, broadcasting that the shopkeeper’s family lived there. Beyond the town, she knew that clusters of houses sat nestled up in the forested mountains, individuals who preferred to live in the woods and had claimed tracks of land.

“This is quite a show,” Kailigh said, eyeing the bustle. Her eldest daughters clustered around her. Well, they didn’t cluster. Sere looked around with narrowed eyes, fingers twitching in a way that let Kai know her daughter had a knife hidden in her skirts. She nudged Serephone. “Stop that. Any warrior with a decent eye can tell you’re armed.”

Sere stilled, her fingers stopped twitching. Persia glanced at them both and shrugged, then strode forward.

“Might as well dive in,” she said. “I’m heading to the beer garden.”

Kailigh went after her. “What? Beer garden?”

People glanced at the women curiously, some with grins—especially the men—some with more stony expressions. Not everyone liked the idea of Maddugh parading his human guests. Kailigh returned the scowl of one woman, while keeping a sharp eye on the daughter plunging energetically through the crowd. It was crowded enough she was glad Cin had decided at the last minute to stay behind, complaining of a sudden headache.

Amnan snorted. “You’ve never been to a Dwyrkin faire, have you? Just watch your drink.”

She glanced at him. “And what does that mean? Who will be up to mischief?”

He raised his brow, arrogance echoing his father. “You will, after you’ve had a few.”

Kailigh sniffed. “I’ll not be having one of your sneaky Dwyrkin ales. Drinking is for young folk.”

“Of course.” His reply was too bland. “You’re what—forty in human years?”

A colorful tent with sheer sides was erected in the wide circular center of town. It was the same kind of town center as any of the settlements outside a city, designed to be a temporary setting stage for traveling merchants, entertainers—and public executions. Many of the norms of society had degenerated back to medical times in the last several centuries. Once cities had been civilized. Not anymore.

“About forty. This can’t be for us,” she said.

Amnan shrugged. “It is. We can throw together a party at a moment’s notice, really. Any excuse will do. And I remember forty. Ah, to be so young again.”

Kailigh stared at the boy as he walked past her. Well, then. But it made no difference to her. She was a woman grown and a mother responsible for her own household. He was a… prince. Let him work to put food in the mouths of three little bellies, then they could talk about comparative ages. Kailigh followed him, Serephone at her side, and reached Persia just in time to snatch the bottle of brew out of the girl’s hand.

“Ma!”

“No.”

Persia’s eyes narrowed. “I’m of age.”

“Don’t care.” She shoved the bottle to Amnan. “There will be no shenanigans, you hear me? Nope, nope, nope. I won’t have my daughters representing their upbringing poorly.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m twenty-one. You can’t do this to me anymore.”

“Watch.” She ignored Persia’s disgusted glare. “Well, I guess it’s pleasant enough in here. I wonder if there’s lemonade?”

Amnan coughed.

* * *

Kailigh was surprised when humans streamed into the town. They left the beer garden and meandered through the various crafts and booths set up. Serephone detached from Kailigh’s skirt and went to inspect a display of intricately crafted knives while Persia sulked and browsed through a merchant with jars of fragrant tea leaves.

“Father wanted you to feel comfortable,” Amnan said, sipping a clear drink. She had to give him credit; he didn’t seem bored, following her and the girls around.

“You don’t have to stick to us like a burr,” she said, lifting a well-cut denim duster from a stack of gently used clothing, inspecting the hems to see if the seams were hand sewn or machine stitched. “I’m sure there will be no mischief, and we can handle ourselves, after all.”

“I’m not here to protect you from them,” he said, continuing to watch the crowd. “But them from you. We’ve been warned about your temper concerning your daughters, mistress. My father prefers there be no bloodshed tonight.”

His answer satisfied her. Proper respect paid to her abilities didn’t trouble Kailigh—she was gratified her reputation preceded her.

“Regardless, I’d like to wander a bit without a man hovering over my shoulders. Go play, Princeling. Loosen the corset a bit.”

He turned his head and looked at her, a long, steady look she returned, unperturbed. Maybe one of the girls might have been pulled under by that stare—but he wasn’t his father, and she wasn’t one of the girls.

“Very well. I’ll be within shouting distance if some poor fool needs rescuing from you.”

“I can behave myself.” She paused, eyeing him curiously. “I’ve met you—and I’ve seen that ne’er-do-well you call a brother—Hrutha. But I haven’t met the third. Your Da said there were three.”

Amnan’s expression darkened, just a bit. “You’ll see him soon enough, mistress. He doesn’t care for company these days.”

The words were neutral, but she understood that neutrality often hid painful things. And found, oddly enough, that she cared. “Is he well?” she asked “Don’t neglect your family on account of my daughters and I—we can fend for ourselves, and have been for years.”

He inclined his head. “My brother will keep for now, but I thank you for the concern.”

She kept close to the tent at first, wanting to see how her daughters would behave when not under her watchful eye—conveniently forgetting that the two eldest were, at least legally, considered adults. It was a good thing, too, since Persia approached a while later, her brow furrowed.

“What’s wrong?” Kai asked. She sat on a bench just outside the square with the tent, watching foot traffic go by.

Persia chewed her lip. “I think I saw some of Ruthus’ men.”

“What?”

Persia gave a quick description. “Why would Maddugh let all the humans in? They usually don’t just open the flood gates.”

“It’s supposed to be a special occasion.” Kailigh rose, worried. “What were they doing?”

“Just wandering around. I couldn’t tell if they were scouting or just getting a lay of the land—taking advantage of the opportunity to sneak in with everyone else.”

Kai’s mouth thinned. “Let’s find Maddugh or one of his sons.”

They ran into Amnan first, who evidently hadn’t been that far away himself, since he appeared out of the shadow almost as soon as they began scouring the crowds.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, voice sharp.

Kai glanced at Persia and her daughter recounted what she’d seen.

Amnan looked thoughtful. “Your youngest child stayed behind, correct?”

Kai nodded. “She wasn’t feeling well at the last minute.”

“What would Ruthus do if he knew Cin was by herself and we were all at the faire?” Persia asked.

“Distraction,” Kai said.

“I’m certain my father had Hrutha set extra guards in that wing of the house. But.” Amnan nodded. “Come, I’d rather be over-cautious than not at all.”