Saskia believed in strength; she knew, in the first round of The Claiming, that Xandrie had only won against her thanks to a fair bit of luck. She’d gone easy on her. She hadn’t respected her because she hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

“Nothing personal,” the woman explained indifferently with a shrug. “Everyone says I’m a bitch. They aren’t wrong.”

She also didn’t mind being seen that way; bitches got things done.

After hearing that she’d fought for them, and risked her life to get their shield back up? Things had changed. But she knew how tales could be spun, and she hadn’t seen it for herself.

“I see you now. You’re strong enough for this - for us. You’ll be a fair Queen. I might have the strength, but I lack…”

“Tolerance?” Nathos offered.

“Patience?” Rhey tried.

“Diplomacy?” Xandrie guessed.

“The inclination,” Saskia said with a sigh. “I mean, no offense but it sounds like a fucking boring job. If someone else can do it better, so be it.”

Althara’s answer had been simpler.

“I don’t want her tiger to eat my face.”

Regardless of the reason, she’d won The Claiming by default.

“You know, being Queen of a Kingdom I’ve been part of for about five minutes might not be all that easy. Rhey said I could have Advisors - Demelza will be one of mine, but I could use you, too.”

Saskia was so frank, she was exactly her kind of person. For example, her reply was, “Dragon’s scales, I said I didn’t want a boring job! No. I won’t do it. No way. I’ll be like Nathos in fifty years, tops.”

But she caved because right now, everything in her life was perfect. Xandrie could scarcely believe her luck.

By tomorrow, she was to be wed to a man she loved - a man she already belonged to - and on the same day, she’d be Queen of people who - mostly - loved her.

Not bad, for a magicless runt.

* * *

Through the throng of well-wishers, Xandrie watched Demelza race back to the castle, a medic at her side. Demelza knew what this moment meant to her, how deeply she’d fallen for Rhey, so she’d have been right at her side, squeezing her and smothering her with kisses, if everything had been right with the world. That she’d left without a backward glance meant she was needed immediately. Xandrie felt the triumph drain out of her, only to be replaced by a leaden knot. When the medics came for Demelza it usually meant yet another expectant mother in the birthing room was in trouble.

Nathos was nattering in her ear, trying to cram a lifetime of protocol into a single hour. Xandrie was to be crowned that very afternoon and needed to know which hand held the scepter and which the orb, what to say when she was under the canopy, how the oil on her forehead signified a covenant with the spirit of all Dragons and bound her to her Queenly duties for life.

She held up her hand. “Sorry, Nathos. I don’t mean to interrupt, but I’ve somewhere I need to be.”

By the time Xandrie reached the birthing room, Demelza was already spattered in blood. Xandrie recognized the mother on the table. Galdia had waited on her on the first day of The Claiming, coiling her hair into an impossibly elegant chignon, which she secured with a clasp of golden grasshoppers, in the Grecian style. She had chattered away about the dragonling in her belly, telling Xandrie all about the names she and her man had picked out for their dragonling. The women of this kingdom were nothing short of heroic. Not once had she seen a pregnant woman give herself over to her fears, though they must have all been terrified. “As it will be, so shall it be,” wasn’t just an ancient dragon saying, it was their mantra.

Xandrie tugged at the ties that held her breastplate in place. She needed to shed her armor and get in there and help Demelza. She had no Vincent to help her and she had no time for untying fancy knots, so she grabbed a scalpel and cut her way out of her gear.

Demelza looked up from between the stirrups. Galdia’s screams were enough to curdle the blood, yet a thick, red river of the damned stuff continued to pour out of her.

Xandrie felt the same buzz she’d felt when her power had alerted her to the Feral dragon who attacked Rhey, and when she’d connected herself to Claws and called on his power to dispatch Janive.

She could reach the dragonling, if only she allowed her magic to create a circuit that flowed in and out of the thrashing mother. She laid her hands on Galdia’s belly, willing her pulse to drop and her magics to rise. She needed to be present, but not get in the way of the magics that flowed from whence all magics came: the Source. The fire rose in her, calm and soothing, a column of sheer peace. It emptied itself out of her left hand, where her rune glowed bright, into Galdia and then on to meet her thrashing dragonling.

As soon as Xandrie made the connection with the tiny creature, she felt how passionately it wanted to be in the world. It was coming at them, ready to fight and had no way of understanding that the fight might kill his mother. Xandrie let the cerulean braid of energy coil about the child and soothe his battling spirit. The little one calmed. She could have sworn he sang, but she couldn’t stop to ask; she needed to keep him calm enough to come into the world without sending his mother from it.

“Deep breaths.” Demelza mimed the breathing pattern she wanted Galdia to imitate.

Demelza looked up and smiled at Xandrie.

“Now, push. Hard as you can. You’re about to meet your dragonling, Galdia.”

Xandrie bent to Galdia’s ear and whispered. “Galden is on his way.”

“Really?” Galdia sobbed. “A boy?”

Xandrie nodded.

Galdia heaved until she was beet red and her dragonling came into the world, a feisty wee thing with a set of lungs to rival an opera singer. Demelza scooped him up and handed him to his mother, and everyone, her included, cried again and again.

They’d only made it out of the room when her friend cornered her outside, accusingly saying, “I could see it going wrong. You did something.”

Xandrie nodded.

“Dragons are animals - and animals are my thing, I suppose. I felt like it needed to stop moving so much, and I was able to make him do so.”

Demelza was practically shaking.

You’re going to be here, every time, to do exactly what you just did, I want your hands on birthing bellies. Swear you’ll help me.”

“Just you try and stop me.”

They were her people to care for now, too.

* * *

King Rhey Vasili couldn’t stop grinning. The woman who was to be his Queen had come to his Kingdom with nothing to recommend her but her wits, and in only three months she had saved all their lives, trounced the competition, won The Claiming, and now saved a dragonling and his mother. He’d hoped his partner might be any one of these things - brave, fierce, talented, to say nothing of beautiful - but he got the full package. He eyed the crown he was to place on her head. The gems encrusted around the rim sparkled almost as bright as his bride-to-be’s eyes. Almost.

The Nobles were assembled in their ancestral seats, but the Cathedral was packed to the rafters with people of every class. His household – the servants, the Guard, even Ramog his curmudgeonly head chef – all loved the woman he adored and wanted to be there as she became their Queen.

Xandrie stood tall and proud, ready to walk down the aisle to her throne and claim her title. The music filled the ancient halls and Rhey readied himself for what promised to be one of the happiest moments of his life.

Garald thundered into the hall ahead of a contingent of Warriors, every man of them oozing terror and bravado and their willingness to fight to the death. “We’re under attack,” he yelled. “We need the King out of here, now.”

Rhey turned to see where Xandrie stood, desperate that she not be in the line of fire.

The huge, wooden doors to the hall were thrown open. In the archway, a mage hovered, the energy about her glowing and crackling and bursting with life. Her hair flew about her shoulders and her eyes bore into him, rooting him to the spot. Though he was unable to turn his head, Rhey swiveled his eyes to his left and then his right. Garald was frozen as his bear self, teeth drawn and fangs extended. His entire Guard were immobilized, just as he was.

The mage flowed toward him, her feet barely touching the ground.

Rhey fought the bonds that held him in thrall, desperate that the mage not reach Xandrie or harm her in any way. He’d only just found her, he couldn’t lose her. He sharpened his will and plumbed his dragon power and managed, finally, to put one foot in front of the other.

Xandrie stepped around him, apparently untouched by the mage’s spell. “Talia?”

To the shock of the whole Kingdom, their future Queen’s arms flew around the shoulders of the single strongest magical entity they’d ever encountered; stronger than the enemy which had almost killed them all at their borders. More astonishing yet, the mage’s arms circled her frame and squeezed as hard as she could.

“You’re here,” the stranger whispered against her neck. “You’re really alright.”

Relief and delight were both evident.

As quickly as it had taken them all, the spell keeping them in place released their limbs, and Rhey sheathed his weapon, ordering his men to do the same.

Beaming, his bride was pulling the mage who, now, didn’t look all that terrifying – she was a young woman who walked a little awkwardly, tripping over her own foot. Her gaze never met anyone’s, other than Xandrie’s.

“Talia,” she said, pointing to him, “meet my future husband. You made it just in time.” Then, she added, “Rhey, this is my little sister.”

Right.

So, when she’d meant that her family was powerful, what she’d actually wanted to say was that someday, they would rule the entire world.