The Dragon's Unwanted Triplets Read online

  “May I cut in?” Zorion said, suddenly appearing at her side. To her relief, Itzal released her immediately.

  “Actually, I think that’s a good idea,” he said. “Why don’t we slow down the tempo a bit?” The song mellowed as Zorion took her right hand and she placed the other on his shoulder. The tension of her muscles eased at his familiar touch, and she found herself smiling.

  “Don’t worry so much about what your feet are doing,” he said. “My first instructor told me that dancing is ultimately a conversation between two people. It works best when you keep your eyes on your partner.”

  “That shouldn’t be too difficult,” she said, smiling up at him. Humor and love glimmered in his amber eyes.

  “Then let’s show them how this is done,” he said, and he led her into the first steps. It actually was hard to keep from looking at her feet, at first, but she held Zorion’s gaze. When she looked at him, she didn’t worry quite so much, and her body seemed to know what to do, taking cues from the music and from his touch.

  He held her much more closely than Itzal had, and every time they made a turn, his hip pressed into her, a brief but alluring point of contact. She almost forgot they were dancing, and then the song was over. Her heart was pounding, and Zorion’s eyes held a promise of later.

  “Very good,” Itzal said. “Now it’s time to add some flourishes!”

  **************************

  The other important part of Alaia’s first true appearance as the Crown Princess was her outfit. Maude had found a seamstress to take her measurements, and there had been many long discussions about fabric, cut, and style that had mostly gone over her head. But today the dress was nearly finished, and it was time for the final fitting.

  Lorea’s excitement was contagious. “I wish Zorion would let me go too,” she said, practically dancing on her toes as they waited for the seamstress to arrive. “I mean, I know it’s a safety precaution. It would be foolish to hand the king so many tempting targets in a place where we can easily get separated, plus I’ll be one more person to guard the children. But I’ve never been to the Sunlight Gala, and your dress is going to look so amazing.”

  Alaia smiled. “If it’s even half as lovely as you say it is, I’m afraid your brother won’t let me got to the ball either. He’ll want an unimpeded view.”

  “He does do an awful lot of staring,” Lorea agreed. “It’s a wonder he gets anything done.” There was a knock on the door, and Maude appeared with the seamstress, an older woman with the speech of someone who’d grown up in one of the villages, just as Alaia had. This had immediately put her at ease the first time they met, and it was the same now. They chatted about the weather while her assistant carried the dress into the room, carefully protected from the elements by an oilcloth bag.

  “Everyone at the Sunlight Gala dresses in sunny colors to honor the theme of the night, but that would hardly complement your complexion,” the seamstress said. “I think you’ll like what we’ve come up with.” She pulled the bag off the dress and Alaia made a soft sound of wonder at the navy-blue satin and taffeta.

  “Hurry up and put it on!” Lorea said, squealing with glee. Alaia went behind the screen, having already prepared for the dress by donning a loose corset and several voluminous petticoats. She dropped it over her head, a sleeveless underdress first, and then the main gown, and laced up the front. When she stepped out from behind the screen, Lorea nearly swooned “This dress is gorgeous. My brother is going to faint when he sees you.”

  “I hope not,” Alaia said with a half-smile. “That would be inconvenient.” But even from the less than perfect vantage point of looking down at herself, she could tell the gown was a masterpiece. Navy blue satin fell to the floor, embroidered with stars in gold and silver thread.

  The skirt was split down the middle in the front to show the pale yellow underdress, the hem of which was stitched with a rising sun made with hundreds of tiny beads. The sleeves of the dress were long, draping elegantly over her hands, and made of fine lace so that her arms showed underneath as if through clouds.

  “We’ve made a matching outfit for the prince as well,” the seamstress said as she began checking the fit, “in a reverse color scheme to suit his warmer skin tone. My son will be by this evening to do his fitting.”

  “I’m sure it will be lovely,” Alaia said. She could just imagine how handsome Zorion would look in gold.

  “You guys are going to blow the nobles away,” Lorea said. “We have to find just the right jewelry. I think I might have a tiara of mother’s that’ll be perfect.” Alaia knew there was no use arguing about it, so she nodded, and Lorea started to discuss ribbons.

  CHAPTER TEN

  The day of the ball felt a bit like her wedding day, in many ways. Alaia got up to nurse the triplets, and Zorion was already gone. No doubt he was conferring with the nobles whose troops had already started sneaking into the city. There was a limit to how many could stay here without being noticed, of course, but even a hundred men already inside the city was better than a thousand outside.

  Once the children were settled with Galena and Lorea, she went to take her bath and eat her breakfast, though she was already so nervous she could hardly swallow. Maude helped her with her dress and hair, and Lorea came by to help with cosmetics and jewelry. Alaia felt a bit like a cake being frosted, but when she saw herself in the mirror, she felt, for the first time, like a princess.

  Somehow, it was already late afternoon, and as Maude was trying to persuade her to eat something else, there was a commotion downstairs that told everyone Zorion was home.

  Itzal came into the parlor, his eyes gleaming. “Everything is going well, but I told your husband he wasn’t allowed to see you until he got dressed. Otherwise we’ll never get out the door.” Alaia nodded, clasping her hands in her lap to keep them from shaking.

  Her stomach felt like it was full of grasshoppers. All too soon, she would be standing in front of everyone, not just friends and family, but a whole city’s worth of nobility. Some of them might be Zorion’s allies, but others would undoubtedly be his enemies, and everyone would be watching to see if she was worthy to be married to the Crown Prince.

  “I’ll make you a cup of tea to settle your nerves,” Maude said. “It will take your husband some time to get himself ready. The tea did help; even the warmth of the cup in her hands was soothing, and her heartbeat slowed. She even managed to eat a piece of fruit, and then they all heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Alaia would never have said before that a man had taken her breath away, but that was how she felt at the moment Zorion entered the room.

  The golden silk of his long jacket made his skin almost glow with warmth and life, and his eyes shone like embers. The pants and vest underneath were the same dark blue as her dress, but as he came closer, she could see that the embroidery was of tiny suns and clouds. He held out his hand to her, pulling her to her feet.

  “You look… stunning,” he said, his voice quiet and low. “Are you sure we have to go to the Gala? I think I’d like to keep you for myself.”

  “That’s exactly what Lorea said you would say,” she replied. “You’re looking quite handsome this evening as well. I’m glad we’re already married, lest some foreign princess steal you away.”

  “Never,” he said fiercely, pulling her in for a kiss.

  “None of that, young man,” Maude said, rapping him on the arm with a folding fan. “Your children are waiting out here to bid you farewell, and then it’s time for you to go.”

  Of course, the children weren’t really waiting for them, but Lorea and Galena and Maite were each holding a child in their arms, and Alaia kissed each of their plump cheeks, ducking out of reach of grabbing fingers. Zorion did the same, though he almost lost his coronet to Zuzen.

  They went down the front steps where Itzal was waiting at the door to a much more ostentatious carriage than the one they had arrived in. He would be their attendant for the evening, partly for protection and partly
to gather information. “Next stop, the viper’s nest,” he said with a cheerful smile.

  They settled into the carriage, and a moment later, it lurched into motion. The swaying motion did nothing for Alaia’s stomach. Zorion took her hand, pressing it between both of his. “I won’t say there is no reason to be nervous, but I can promise that I’ll be beside you. Besides, you are so beautiful, everyone will be too busy gawking to evaluate your social graces.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that,” Alaia said, carefully leaning her head against his shoulder. “But thank you. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

  “To be fair, you wouldn’t have to do any of this, if it wasn’t for me,” he said softly. His tone was light, but his expression was heavy with guilt.

  She looked up at him, concerned. “Why do you act as though being with you is something horrible inflicted on me, Zorion? I love you, and this was my choice.”

  He smiled. “I have no doubts about your love, Alaia. But I know you aren’t happy here. You’ve lost weight, even since we brought Galena and Maite into the house.”

  “Everyone has been distressed lately,” she countered, but then she sighed. There was no use hiding things from him, even if nothing could be done about it. “I miss my home, my garden, and my potter’s wheel. I miss sitting out in the sun with bare feet. I know that is a silly, simple village thing.”

  “It isn’t silly,” he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Look out the window.” She leaned forward and gasped. This was the capital as she’d never seen it before, alive with light and life. They traveled down a wide boulevard lined with trees, paper lanterns painted with images of the sun hanging between them.

  Through the trees, she could just see the facades of stately manor houses as they moved past. Merchants and minstrels plied their trades on every corner, and gaily dressed couples were laughing as they wound their way through the joyous chaos. Alaia didn’t know how to feel. On the one hand, it was beautiful, but on the other…

  “It makes you angry, doesn’t it?” he said, and she could see the tension in his jaw. “All these people who have so much, while just a few streets away, children starve. When all of this is over, things are going to change.”

  She squeezed his hand. He would be a good king, she knew, but she did wonder how much change the nobles would really allow him to make. If he upset them enough, would he too fall to an assassin? She vowed to never let that happen, though she knew there was little she could do to protect him.

  He sighed. “But first, we have to befriend these people. I know it will be hard not to look at the nobles and see only their greed. Itzal always used to tell me if I had trouble smiling at them, I should picture them all in their underthings.”

  A startled snort of laughter escaped her. “That sounds like just the sort of thing he would say.” The carriage rolled to a stop, and her heart started to race as Itzal opened the door.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Zorion murmured, and he stepped down to the ground, straightening his spine and gracefully extending his hand to help her down. The palace soared above them, spires of yellow-gold stone with lanterns in every window and banners on every peak. They walked arm in arm down the walkway and up the stairs, as if they had all the time in the world.

  Zorion was smiling, but he paid no mind to the people on either side of them, some of whom were pointing and whispering behind their hands. Alaia tried her best to follow suit. At the top of the stairs, there was a large antechamber full of people milling around waiting to be announced.

  Itzal went up to the seneschal to give their names, leaving them standing in an out of the way corner. This gave her the perfect opportunity to look at some of the other attendees, many of whom were wearing outfits far more fantastical than theirs, though not necessarily more beautiful. Most of their conversations were about the other guests, what someone was wearing, or who was having an affair with whom. It felt like stepping into an alternate reality. Was no one else aware that they were on the brink of war?

  She supposed that was the whole point, to keep it secret, but still, it seemed crazy that none of these people were aware of the tension between the King and the Crown Prince, or the suffering going on just outside the walls of the noble quarter.

  “Excuse me? Did you say Crown Prince Zorion was here with his wife?” The voice of the seneschal echoed in the suddenly quiet room.

  Zorion muttered a curse under his breath, but he stepped forward, taking Alaia by the hand. “Yes, we are here.” The rest of the courtiers pulled away, as if he’d declared he had a contagious disease. It took a moment for her to realize they were just getting out of his way.

  “My Prince, I apologize for making you wait,” the seneschal said, bowing nearly to the ground. If we had known you would be attending the Gala, we would have sent someone to meet you. The king sent no word.”

  “I’m sure it slipped his mind,” Zorion said with an arch of his eyebrow. “It doesn’t matter. Announce us whenever you can.”

  “Of course, Your Grace, right away,” the seneschal replied, immediately guiding them to the curtained archway behind him. He went through first, and a moment later, a booming voice announced their names to the room concealed beyond. The curtain opened. Alaia was nearly blinded by the light glinting from gilt mirrors and crystal chandeliers. Everything was gold, from the drapes on the windows to the veins in the marble floor.

  They were standing at the top of a long, curved stairway, and below them were at least a hundred people dressed in glittering attire, all staring upward with expressions ranging from shocked outrage to delight. Zorion led Alaia down the stairs, and she remembered to smile, though she was sure everyone would see how nervous she was, how out of place.

  When they reached the bottom of the stairs, there was a sense that everyone in the room was holding their breath, and then one of the nobles, one she thought she recognized from the wedding, broke ranks to approach them.

  “Prince Zorion, it is good to see you,” he said, bowing slightly, “and your lovely lady wife, as well. I’m glad you could attend the Gala.”

  “And you as well, Lord Firenze. Where is your wife?” Zorion replied. Beyond them, most of the staring nobles had gone back to their own business.

  “Due to give birth to our firstborn any day. We thought it best she stayed home. I might have stayed as well, but I have other matters to see to in the capital.” His eyes gleamed with hidden emotion, and Alaia realized he must be one of the nobles providing troops to Zorion’s cause.

  “I hope it concludes swiftly then,” Zorion said with a smile. They parted ways with the lord and made their way through the room. Most people greeted them cordially, though a few conversations were full of hidden barbs. Itzal eventually appeared at their side with drinks and a plate of hors d’oeuvres.

  “This stuff should all be safe. It all probably is, as nothing seems to be set aside from the rest, but I can’t dismiss the thought that Imanol might just poison the entire court to get at you.” Alaia felt a chill go down her spine, and Zorion scowled.

  “There’s no need for hyperbole,” Zorion said with a scowl. He probably didn’t want to scare her. “Not even he’s that ruthless. Have you heard anything of interest?”

  Itzal shrugged. “Only that the king is nearly ready to make his appearance. I’m not sure if he’s been told about your arrival, but I think we should assume that’s the case.” Zorion nodded. The sound of music drifted faintly through the air, and he smiled, grasping Alaia’s hand.

  “Why don’t we go dance before Imanol shows up to ruin the party?” It was a welcome distraction, and she smiled as he led her across the room, the look of determination in his eyes apparently enough to dissuade anyone from approaching them.

  When they reached the dance floor, Alaia was briefly intimidated by the other dancers, but Zorion put his hand on her waist, and her hand went up to his shoulder automatically.

  “Remember to keep your eyes on me. With all the practici
ng you’ve been doing, this should be easy.” The first few steps were a struggle, but she looked up at him, his eyes gleaming with love and mischief. He didn’t like court functions any more than she did, but he did enjoy showing off a little.

  Her body remembered what to do, and in a moment, they were moving easily together, sweeping across the floor as the music swelled. He twirled her in a dizzying spin and caught her against his chest, and she felt like laughing. The song ended as he dipped her nearly to the ground. Alaia had nearly forgotten where they were until she heard the sound of applause. Zorion pulled her upright as many of the nobles clapped.

  A trumpet sound rang through the ballroom, startling everyone into silence. King Imanol stood at the top of the stairs, and he clapped slowly, a cruel smile on his face. “My goodness, how the little swamp flower has blossomed. You must have been practicing day and night.”

  Alaia felt her cheeks flush, with anger as much as embarrassment. Zorion’s grip on her hand tightened. “I would prefer it if you did not insult my wife so, Your Highness,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Insult? Oh no, dear cousin, I think she’s quite charming. In fact, I must insist on having a dance with her myself.” Zorion opened his mouth to protest, but she put a restraining hand on his arm.

  “Surely, he can’t do anything to me in front of so many people,” she whispered. “We didn’t come here to start a fight.” He searched her face and nodded, releasing her hand and bowing his head.

  “As Your Majesty wishes,” he said, backing away stiffly. She felt suddenly very cold and exposed as the musicians started to play again, and the king came down the stairs toward her. He took her hand, and she did her best to hide her revulsion as they moved out onto the dance floor.

  He did not hold her particularly close, but it was still closer than she wanted. His breath smelled stale, and his stomach kept threatening to brush against her. Plus, because he was shorter than Zorion, she found she was looking at his face much more directly than she wanted.