Chapter Twenty-Eight
A WEEK LATER, they were ready to leave the dragonlands. Nedi had been right about the Council. The showcase had resulted in nearly fifty engagements—Gerald had been pleased to see Mikkel had apparently found someone who didn’t scare him, because his name was on the list of engagements; Lila’s was, as well, next to that of a prince Gerald didn’t know; and also present was Erick’s, next to (to no one’s surprise) Nedi’s—and even the two-dozen-odd royals who were still single remained enthusiastic about the idea and were already planning ahead for the next round when the newest crop of royals came of age.
The Council had approved it all, including the complete dismantling of the guardian program, effective immediately. They were busy drafting an announcement of the new format, and a revised and updated Rules, Regulations, and Procedures handbook was in the works, with Nedi consulting. Gerald was happy to step back and let her handle all of that. The Council still made him nervous. He kept waiting for them to say “never mind” and go back to the old way.
It was quieter in and around the dragonlands now. Most of the Council had left; only the Ten were still in semipermanent attendance, although a number of other individuals were teleporting in and out to take part in different votes and discussions. The amphitheater was empty once more as well, with the newly engaged couples returning to their home kingdoms to spread the word of the new system as they went. And Gerald and Omar were preparing to head to Andine to face down the Queens.
Gerald had written and thrown out and rewritten at least a dozen drafts of his letter to his parents before he had something he thought might prepare them for his in-person arguments. He had no illusions about the letter itself convincing them of anything, but he still wanted it to be as perfect as possible. He had shown draft after draft to Omar, to Erick, to Nedi, to the dragon, and even to Calin, who had even less of a concept of romance and marriage than Gerald did. Finally, Erick had gotten fed up with the endless drafts and said he was going to send the next letter Gerald gave him—and he did.
So now the Queens of Andine were advised that their youngest son’s rebellion was still in full force; he was sticking to his conviction he would not marry; and he was on his way to the capital—with a dragon and a nonromantic partner—to discuss a possible abdication. Their bags were packed and Gerald was torn between a feeling of imminent doom and the knowledge it would be over soon, one way or another. He also had to admit, regardless of what was waiting on the other end of the journey, the idea of being alone with Omar and the dragon again was an appealing one.
Calin hovering over them and checking they had all of the medical supplies she thought they might possibly ever have even the slightest chance of someday needing only added to Gerald’s growing excitement at being alone for the first time in too long.
Erick had furnished them with a fresh supply of two-way parchment and he and Nedi were there to see them off. It was Nedi who reassured Calin that “the boys will be fine”, a sentiment that caused the piedling to snort dismissively but she did then back away and give the dragon enough space to take off.
Omar waved enthusiastically while Gerald shut his eyes and took a firm hold of the harness.
I’m never going to get used to these takeoffs.
THE DRAGON FLEW neither slowly nor speedily; with nothing to rush toward or away from, it flew at a leisurely, but steady, pace. Of course, a leisurely pace from the dragon’s perspective still saw the ground disappear beneath them at a rapid clip from Gerald’s.
“You’re biting your lip again,” Omar chided him gently. “It’s a beautiful day. Nothing is going wrong, nothing is going to go wrong, there are no crises, no unpleasant passengers. Let yourself relax.”
Gerald wished he could turn his worries on and off as easily as all that. But Omar was right: there was really nothing his anxiety could cling to up there in the cloudless blue sky. He leaned against Omar, who draped his arm over Gerald’s shoulder. Over the last week, they’d discovered Gerald liked that sort of companionable touch, as long as he was expecting it.
“I’m trying.”
BEING ALONE WITH Omar and the dragon soothed nerves he hadn’t realized had been so badly frazzled by the intensity of the showcase and the crowds it had entailed. Being alone with his two closest friends, who understood him better than anyone else in his life ever had, also helped wear at the barriers he was still unconsciously putting up between them.
When he craved touch but was also still too easily overwhelmed by it, there was no judgment. Omar didn’t push anything; he sat back and followed Gerald’s lead and that emboldened Gerald to take it. There was no one to comment when Gerald pushed their separate pallets together into one on the second night and there was no one to smirk when all they did on it was sleep.
ON THE MAP, Andine looked a long way from the dragonlands. But even with the dragon flying at a leisurely pace, the distance collapsed at a rapid rate and they flew over the border into Andine much sooner than Gerald wanted them to.
Not that it even matters, Gerald thought. It wouldn’t matter if it took us a month to get here instead of a week, or if it took six months, or a year. It wouldn’t make a difference; I’m never going to feel ready for this.
Omar squeezed his hand. “You’re going to give yourself an ulcer,” he said gently. “You’re too young to have a bleeding stomach. I’m not going to tell you to relax, but trust us, all right? You’re walking out of that castle with us no matter what they say.”
“I know. But you don’t know my parents. It’s going to be very unpleasant before we walk out.” On the other hand, the sooner we get there, the sooner it will be over.
“But we will walk out. Keep reminding yourself of that. It will only be unpleasant for so long, and then we’ll leave. We’ll leave and we’ll find some land and start the sanctuary.”
Gerald nodded and squeezed Omar’s hand back.
In no time at all, they were flying over the capital and approaching the castle. The dragon had refused to stop a discreet distance away, saying, “If you are in need of rescue, I will be on hand, not hiding miles away to avoid upsetting anyone.” Now Gerald was wishing there was a way to bring the dragon directly into the audience chamber with them.
As the dragon back-winged down into the abruptly abandoned central courtyard, Gerald hoped the queens had thought to warn the castle residents and staff he was returning with a dragon. There was no swarm of guards, at least, which he took as a positive sign.
Aside from the echoing emptiness, the courtyard—and the castle—looked exactly the way Gerald remembered it. The tall stone walls looked as imposing and as oppressive as ever. He felt small and young and out of place. The mismatched prince, once again set to disturb the royal tableau.
The urge to flee to the stable, to saddle Wisp and ride away, rose up in him and he cast a longing glance toward that building. But they had dressed up for this visit and it would rather ruin the impression he hoped to make if he arrived with straw on his clothes and horse slobber in his hair. After, he promised himself.
Omar followed his gaze and asked, “What’s over there?”
“My horse. I wonder if I can get permission to bring her, too…” Even as he said it, he had the feeling Queen Danya would refuse to let him have Wisp just to spite him. “On the other hand, maybe it’s better not to ask.”
“Easier to get forgiveness than permission, eh?”
“I don’t think it’ll be easy to get either,” Gerald said morosely.
“That’s the spirit,” Omar joked. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Gerald sighed. He undid the harness and slid down the dragon’s side, with Omar close behind.
The dragon scrutinized them as they gave each other a last once-over, straightening collars and brushing out wrinkles. Omar was wearing his royal circlet, the silver shining out from within his dark curls, but Gerald had flatly refused to wear his. “I’m here to abdicate. I want to look like I already have,
like this is just a formality.” In his heart, he doubted the gesture would make much of a difference, but it made him feel better.
Omar wore traditional Yevish formal clothing, as well as the circlet and a small but noticeable collection of jewelry—a ruby drop in one ear, several rings, and a necklace—while Gerald was dressed nicely but plainly in a well-tailored, well-made shirt and trousers and a pair of polished boots. Omar had successfully talked him into a pair of ornamented canes—“If they’re going to stare, give them something worth staring at”—but standing there in the courtyard Gerald was having second thoughts about them.
“You both look very handsome,” the dragon pronounced. “I do wish I could fit in there…but I’m sure you will impress them in your own right.”
“You’ll be watching us, though, right?” Gerald asked nervously.
“The seeing spell is already cast,” the dragon assured him. “Go on, now. They surely know you’re here. It won’t do to delay too long.”
Gerald took a deep breath, adjusted his grip on his canes, and took the first step toward the castle.
To his relief, he found the first step was the hardest. Once he started moving, momentum took over. It felt like mere moments before they had crossed the length of the courtyard and a slightly pale steward in immaculate livery was opening the gate for them with an apprehensive glance at the dragon. She quickly remembered herself and tore her gaze away from it, bowing deeply to Omar and Gerald.
“Welcome back, Prince Gerald,” she said warmly. “And welcome, Prince…”
“Omar. Of Yevin.”
She bowed again and stepped aside for them. “Their Majesties are in the Great Receiving Room. You are expected.”
“Thank you,” Gerald said automatically. He headed for the stairs as quickly as possible, partly due to an unwillingness to lose his momentum and partly to get away from the prying eyes of the castle residents.
The courtyard had been deserted due to the dragon, but that meant the halls were more crowded than usual, filled with all the people who had been chased inside.
His limp had lessened somewhat after judicious use of Calin’s ointments to loosen the scar tissue, but he still needed the canes and he was still self-conscious of them. The steward hadn’t reacted to them at all, either because she was distracted by the dragon or because she was too well-trained to show it, but they clicked noisily on the polished floors and the sound echoed throughout the entryway, making him feel awkward and exposed.
“Breathe,” Omar murmured in his ear.
“I am,” Gerald said under his breath. It was about all he was doing: breathing and walking. His nerves were giving him tunnel vision and wreaking havoc on his ability to perceive time or distance. They could have been walking through the castle for seconds or minutes or hours. The halls were lined with familiar faces, but he didn’t see or recognize any of them. He barely recognized the halls, but his body knew the way and suddenly the doors to the Great Receiving Room were looming large in front of them.
Gerald stared at them for a moment. Those oak planks were the only things between him and his parents and the familiar crushing weight of their disapproval. There’s still time to run, a small voice whispered, but even as he had the thought it was no longer true. The steward posted there seized the initiative and opened the doors to announce them. The courtyard doorkeeper had apparently managed to pass the word about Omar’s name and title because there was no hesitation in his voice as he said, “Prince Gerald of Andine! Prince Omar of Yevin!” and bowed them into the room.
Omar gave Gerald a sharp nudge to get him moving and he limped inside with Omar right behind him. As soon as the two of them had cleared the doorway, the steward returned to the hall, pulling the door shut behind him.
They were alone with the queens.
No audience, he thought. The queens had chosen the Great Receiving Room solely for the size and intimidation factor, then, not to bully Gerald in front of the court. They were sitting on the dais at the far end of the room, dressed in full formal court wear: elaborately tailored gowns in green and gold, the Andinian colors; full crowns, not the more informal circlets; and jewels—necklaces, earrings, and rings. It was not the tableau one would expect when ostensibly welcoming home a child from a quest; it was nothing like the reception Lila would receive when she returned with her betrothed prince.
And there’s one bit of comfort, Gerald thought as he limped across the seemingly endless room. There’s no way Lila could have made it back here yet. It’s only Mum and Mother…and that’s frankly more than enough.
They sat still and silent on the dais; Queen Danya, as ever, looked like she had been carved out of ice; Queen Mixte, normally more expressive than her wife, was likewise statuesque. Gerald thought she at least would have reacted to his canes, but he didn’t see so much as a twitch or a raised eyebrow.
Bit by bit the distance between them shrank until Gerald and Omar stopped a few yards away. Omar bowed precisely as deeply as protocol demanded and waited for the Queens’ acknowledgment before straightening up gracefully. Gerald made a passable attempt at a modified bow, helped by the fact that as a royal child of the blood, rather than a foreign prince, his bow was allowed to be much shallower. He straightened and stood silently, waiting for his parents to guide the conversation.
“We received your letter,” Queen Mixte said after a long moment.
Gerald nodded acknowledgment and continued to wait. Mixte’s tone had been blandly conversational, with no hint of her feelings toward the letter or its contents.
Queen Danya was not so circumspect. “We were…most displeased,” she said coldly. “I would have thought you had learned the consequences of shirking your responsibilities.”
Gerald flushed but kept his own tone level with an effort. “I have no responsibilities. No true responsibilities. Lila is heir; she is engaged; she will continue the line of succession. Andine is prosperous; the Thousand Kingdoms are at peace; we have favorable trade agreements with our neighbors. I am an ornamental prince, nothing more. An ornament Andine can do without.”
“You are a child,” Danya spit. “What do you know of responsibilities?”
“I’m an adult in the eyes of the law,” Gerald said quietly. “I’m old enough to guide my own life. If Andine needed me, that would be one thing; I’m not interested in shirking. But Andine does not need me, and I can do something useful, something needful, elsewhere.”
“To be perfectly frank,” Danya said coldly, “you do not look capable of doing anything useful at the moment.”
Gerald bit his tongue to keep from rising to the bait. After a breath, he said, still managing somehow to keep his tone even, “If I were truly as useless as all that, what reason would you have to keep me here? If I am not capable of doing anything useful, what could I possibly do for Andine?”
Mixte laid a restraining hand on Danya’s arm. “Now, Gerald, I’m sure that was not how she meant that to sound. But you can see why we—as your parents—are concerned about you wandering the Thousand Kingdoms. Your adventuring to date has clearly not agreed with you.”
“Perhaps you should have considered that before enchanting me against my will,” Gerald snapped, his grip on his temper fraying, “and locking me in a tower in the middle of a desert. My injuries can be laid squarely at your feet, Mother. You are the one who had me magicked away—illegal as it is, I might add, to work magic on an unaware and unwilling person—and put me in position to be hurt. But I am healing, and I can set that aside. I don’t feel the need to point fingers.”
Danya waved a hand dismissively. “I am hardly to blame for encouraging you to take up your responsibilities, to participate in the Royal Rescue. If you were not as prepared as you might have been, well, whose fault was that? How many of your willing cohort were injured?”
Omar cleared his throat. “With all due respect, Your Majesty… I don’t see the point of laying blame with anyone. The past cannot be changed. We’re here about the future.
”
Danya gave him a withering glare, but Omar only smiled blandly in response.
“He’s right,” Gerald said. “Let’s talk about the future. My future isn’t here. Surely you can see that. I’ve never been the prince you’ve wanted, the son you’ve wanted. What do you gain by keeping me here, other than my bitterness? A feuding royal family hardly serves Andine’s interests.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Danya said. She waved Gerald’s letter at him. “The things you’ve written show so clearly you’re a child still, even if not in the eyes of the law. You need time to mature. This is not the time to make rash decisions.”
“What, exactly, have I done or said that’s been childish?” Gerald asked. “I stood up for the oppressed. I changed an outdated, slavery-fueled system. I negotiated with the Council. I planned, and researched, and persevered. How is any of that a sign I am immature?”
“You know very well your intentions were not nearly as noble as you’re making them out to be. You were clinging to your childish declaration you would never marry, and like a child, you acted out to ensure you would get your way. You threw a tantrum, Gerald, and you dragged your entire cohort and the Council into it. That is hardly something to be proud of.”
“I think the guardians would disagree.”
Omar cleared his throat again. “With all due respect… Don’t you think the fact that Gerald was willing to go to such lengths—to plan and carry out a revolution—to avoid marriage shows how serious he is about this? If it were merely some childish tantrum, do you really think he would have pursued it so far? Do you really think he would be willing to give up the safety and security of his life here, to abdicate and leave the country, simply out of a childish need to get his way?”
“He does make a point, darling,” Mixte said to Danya in an undertone, but she waved her spouse’s words away.
“And you,” Danya said to Omar, as if she were only now truly registering his presence, “How are you involved in this? Why are you indulging him? The two of you are in a relationship, Gerald wrote. Why, then, this refusal to make it official? Why this continued rebellion? Gerald, you swore you wouldn’t find a partner, and here you have one. Why should we believe you won’t change your mind about marriage as well?”
Royal Rescue Page 34