“You will see more riders closer to Aver, and the longer you stay at the Red Citadel. All the gentry have come in from the Outerlands for Aver, so most have no reason to ride their dragons.” Daniil motioned to the palace. “Welcome home, Marina.”
They stood in a dry garden, a few servants dragging rakes into the black sand around boulders to create patterns.
Marina had two options. She could walk around like a terrified shadow of herself and hope she one day felt like she belonged here, or she could face this head on and be her loud, obnoxious self, and everybody would just have to deal with it.
Smiling evilly, she skipped down the path, greeting the startled servants boisterously, and pushed the big doors open. At the top of her voice, she yelled. “Oi! Mikhail, where the freaking hell are you?”
Daniil hurried after her, and she let go of the doors to let him deal with the young man who had rushed up to help them with their shoes. She kicked off her boots and dashed up the stairs towards the sound of irritated, dragon-like grumbling.
Marina pushed back the screen separating her from the shadow on the other side and grinned when a big black dragon uncoiled from a large bed of cushions he reclined on and glowered down at her.
Head lifting he curved his neck back. ‘Daughter,’ Mikhail boomed.
Marina got straight down to business. “I need you to give me something.”
‘What is mine is yours,’ he said, not seeming put out by her abrupt and demanding behavior at all. ‘You can have gold.’
She could? Well that was always handy. “Not what I’m after. I need men. Dragon men.”
He blinked and turned his head to look at Daniil who had entered the room and bowed low. “Majesty, she has seen Tatiana Raad.”
Mikhail’s blocky head waved from side to side as if considering the request, and rumbled low in his throat. ‘You would take such a young girl for the hunt?’ There was no disappointment in his tone, more curiosity.
“Yes. If I have Tatiana the other Chosen cannot kidnap her. I need dragon men to guard her.”
‘The human guards of Clan Zar are loyal.’
“Yeah, but if anybody tries anything I want them burned to crisp,” he said fiercely. “Nobody touches that child again.”
Mikhail stood, and in a bored voice said, ‘You are Marina Zar, daughter to Mikhail. Take whatever you need, no one will stop you.’ He turned away and as he did his tail brushed up beside her shoulder gently before he padded into another room and slammed the screen closed behind him.
“Does he ever turn human?” Marina asked.
Daniil shrugged. “The phoenixes are often alone in caverns inside Ash Mount. They mourn the loss of their mates deeply and stay away from court, only coming to bear witness to Aver and the hunt. The sight of them all together is–”
“Intimidating,” she finished. “So one day Koen will sit on a plinth with my face craved into it and mourn me?”
“That is a sad way to look at it. The phoenixes can sit for hours on their treasure and relive memories from when their wives were alive.”
“Treasure? I didn’t see any treasure.”
“A dragon’s mate is the most precious thing to him, worth more than all the gold in this world. Love is what a dragon protects, Marina. Not jewels.”
“But they live so long after we die. If we’re made to be their mates why can’t we live longer?”
Daniil shrugged. “Better to have loved and lost your match then never to feel the splendor of the connection at all. Three hundred years is a long time for an unattached dragon mate to live. The dragons can live as long as they desire after the passing of their mate, which usually isn’t very long, but as I said before, it’s different with the phoenixes.”
The thought of Koen living on so long without her was heartbreaking. “That’s why the women must fight, isn’t it? The matches have to be permanent, unbreakable to sustain them once their mates are gone … until they die.”
Daniil smiled sadly. “You should go to bed. You have a big day tomorrow. We begin your training and you have to take your oath. It will be the first time people at court see you, news of your arrival will be rife.”
“You’re going to train me?”
“Nikolai will help … in his way. You also have to learn both styles of fighting arts. The Drackai Budō and the Wyvrae Ninjutsu. The Wyvrae have assassination techniques that fall under the godai. Learning them helps to keep you safer from them. It makes them easier recognize and avoid.”
“Avoid?”
“You are to become First Chosen. Some of the gentry will not be happy, and will try to remove you.” He shrugged. “Politics.”
She scowled. What he meant was assassination attempts. “Murdering somebody isn’t bloody politics.”
“So you say.”
Marina rubbed her face tiredly. “You’re an ice dragon, and you’ve been trained in the arts of Ninjutsu, correct?”
“Yes, but my closeness with House Raad means I was exposed to the practices in Budō. Do not worry. I will teach you both … and you won’t even realize it.”
Chapter 15
It had been a long day, and Marina was happy to be alone in her rooms. She was just figuring out what on earth the servants had put on her bed, when the bell outside her screen rang. She called for them to enter.
Marina blinked. Then she was concerned. “Pasha? What’s wrong? Is everything okay with Tatiana? I had dragon men assigned to protect you, and to bring you here.”
“I know, princess. I … I came to apologize and to beg for your mercy.”
“Oh.” Marina studied her. “Why?”
“I offended you, insulted your honor–”
“Yeah, but you didn’t know me from Adam. I’m not surprised you reacted the way you did. I’m proud.”
The woman wrung her hands, face stressed. “Who is Adam?”
Marina waved her hand. “You have nothing to worry about. Nikolai made a good choice when he selected you to take care of Tatiana.”
Pasha’s bottom lip trembled. “Then why was she been taken from me?”
“What?”
“Osip took away my employment this morning when they came for Tatiana.” Tears slid down the woman’s face. “He also released my daughter and she so loved hosting the tea ceremonies. It is a great honor for one so young and I’ve ruined it for her. I come to beg for your forgiveness, for mercy. No other House will hire me and my daughter now we have been so shamed.” The woman broke down into sobs and fell to her knees.
Panicked, Marina tentatively crouched down and patted the woman’s shoulder. When she flinched and cried harder, Marina gathered her close so she could have a good cry. This wasn’t what she had wanted. Her interference was to help, to make Pasha’s life easier, but somehow she’d miss-stepped and ruined it.
“Pasha, I’ll fix this with the Raad’s I promise. I’ll ring Nikolai’s scrawny neck for letting Osip fire people over such trivial matters. Ah,” she glanced up and saw Pyotr inching towards the door to leave. “Pyotr, can you find Pasha and her daughter rooms? They’ll be working with us from now on.”
The young man – who Marina had been told was in charge of managing house Zar and its employees – reluctantly turned to her. He kept his hair clipped short and his face clean-shaven. He looked affronted. “Princess, surely you cannot mean for me to employ her. It will bring shame down on the House.”
Marina gritted her teeth. “That makes no sense. The woman was fired because she was protecting an innocent child from who she perceived to be a threat. She should be rewarded, not shunned, and you will do as I say and stop being such a condescending prick!” Marina finished on a dragon-like bellow she’d been practicing with him all day. He turned to leave. “Wait! How was that one?”
“Better,” Pyotr said. “But your voice needs to be deeper. Really bellow from the pit of your stomach, majesty.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Pyotr smiled at her before scurrying out of the room.
Pasha looked up at her with terrified eyes, and Marina shrugged. “He’s got a bit of attitude that one. I like him.”
Pasha gave her a wobbly smile. “You’re nice.”
“No. I’m fair, and what happened to you wasn’t.” She set the woman on her feet and rubbed her upper arms. “Back straight, Pasha. You’re a Zar now, and I hear we’re a kind of a big deal around these parts.” Marina winked and was relieved when the woman stopped trembling.
“You are a princess,” the woman said. “The kindest I have met.”
Marina padded back over to the dressing table and sat down on the cushion. “Now Pasha, tell me you understand what I’m supposed to do with that.” Marina pointed to the bolt of oddly cut fabric set out on her bed. It was pristine white and black dragons were woven into the fabric.
“Your ceremonial dress robes, princess?”
“It’s a dress?” Marina studied it. “Right. I knew that. You know how to wrap it?”
Pasha nodded repeatedly. “I was a handmaiden in my younger years.”
“Oh good. You can be mine then. The girl they sent me is a mute or something. She doesn’t talk. She just stares at me like I’m going to turn into a dragon and eat her or something. I sent her home.” Marina paused. “But I might call her back. It seems people can take such an action quite seriously. I’ll find her something else to do.”
Pasha walked over to the bed and smiled wistfully. She held up the silk. “It is lovely, one of the best I have seen.”
“I have a whole closet full of them. Take the ones you like.” Marina frowned down at the instruments and paints on the table. “What do I do with all this,” she muttered. She picked up a jewel encrusted hair clip with a dagger that could be inserted into a hair bun. “Eh. I’m beginning to see long hair has its advantages. At least I know now that when one of those Chosen reaches into her hair to be on guard.” Marina chuckled to herself.
Pasha sat down beside her, feet tucked under her bottom, and clucked over Marina’s hair. “All gone,” she said sadly and looked at her with soulful eyes. “You were punished most severely.”
Marina ran her finger through her short locks, sighing. The people here kept looking at it as if it made her a leper. “You don’t like my hair?”
“I– I think it is very … ah … short, princess.” Pasha motioned to all the hair decorations laid out on the table. “None of these will work with your hair. The other Chosen will have many decorations.”
Marina snorted. “Pasha, I’m a female not a Christmas tree. I’d prefer to be plainer anyway. I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself. I know everybody is probably talking about me now, and that they’re not all thrilled about me being here, so laying low seems a smart option.”
“Ah. Gossips,” Pasha said knowingly. “Ignore them. You are a princess.”
“As everybody seems to keep reminding me every other sentence as if I’ll forget,” Marina muttered.
Pasha’s smile dimmed in puzzlement, but came back brighter than before. “Shall I help prepare your makeup?” she asked. She picked up a flat brush, slathered white paint all over the soft bristles, and raised it to Marina’s forehead.
“Whoa, easy, what’ve you got there?”
Pasha was at a loss. “Face paint?”
“Hmm. Okay, but my skin is about hundreds shades browner than that stuff.”
“Yes. It goes on the face and the nape of your neck. We paint your eyebrows and lashes with black, and your lips with red. To your cheeks we dust a pink blush. It is pretty.”
Marina half laughed and half whimpered. “You are not slapping that gunk on my face.” She pointed at said face. “This is my face. You need to deal with it, as does everybody else.”
“It is tradition. All the other Chosen will be in full ceremonial regalia. You are our high princess. It is expected.”
Marina was beginning to see imperial life on Tzion would be trying. She gritted her teeth. “I can take coming to a different dimension to chase down the man that declared love for me.” She paused. “Kind of declared it. Sort of. Anyway, he left me, and I can take it, he was trying to protect me. I can even take the stares and the snide comments about preferential treatment though I have no idea why this is so shocking since I’m a princess, you’d think preferential treatment came with the territory. I can take having to enter a contest that may kill me just to win the right to hunt my mate. For the next week, I can take that I’ll be training all day, and swallow how that’ll be a constant reminder that I’m not good enough for Koen as I am.” She patted the woman’s knee. “Pasha, I’m not unreasonable. I understand the need to take away my jeans and make me wear a dress to fight in. Cool, I can dig it, I feel very Xena Warrior Princess at times. I can even take even take the goddamned purity ceremony Daniil told me about,” she shuddered, “though how I’m going to explain my woeful lack of, erm, virtue is still being considered.” She used a finger to close Pasha’s swinging jaw. “Don’t worry, it was Koen who took it. She sighed deeply. “I’ve had enough, okay? No make up.”
When Pasha looked at her dubiously, Marina picked up a pot of something that smelt and looked foul and threw it out the hole in the wall that was effectively a glassless window.
The woman squeaked, hands flapping. “This is a great honor. And stop that. The paints are expensive.”
Her lips twitched at her objection. “I’m not wearing it,” Marina repeated, and crossed her arms over her chest defiantly.
Pasha calmly placed the brush down, and bowed. Touching her head to the woven matt she sniffed. “As you say, princess.” She had the same air as a beaten dog.
Marina dropped her head back and groaned. “Aw, Pasha, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to throw all that at you like it was your fault. I ran out of chewing gum earlier today and I’m a bit stressed. I was being a shithead.” She grabbed her maid’s arms to try and get her to sit up. “Don’t bow. I don’t want to be like those assess I saw on the street. I want us to be friends. I desperately need a second to bounce my evil genius off. Forgive me?”
Pasha lifted her head warily and Marina smiled encouragingly. The older woman sat up and adjusted her robes, flushing faintly. Her eyes darted to the paints and to the floor.
Marina’s shoulders slumped. She picked up the brush and shoved it into her hand grumpily. “You can put the white stuff on my neck. You can also use the black stuff and the red stuff. Just don’t go overboard. If you do, I won’t leave this room.” Marina picked up a pretty chain with a round gem dangling from it. “I’ll wear this too.”
Grinning, Pasha reached for the lip stain. “I will make you pretty.”
A frustratingly long time later, after much protest and gentle coaxing from Pasha, Marina stared in the ceiling to floor mirror Pasha had set her in front of with a happy sigh, and looked for … well … her.
Pasha had done some strange teasing with her hair that made it look longer than it was. She almost had a short Mohawk like the dragon lords, but Marina’s was softer, fuller at the crown, and she didn’t have a huge ponytail at the back. Her eyes looked huge. Carefully rimmed with black charcoal, her pupils looked like black pools of ink, and the whites of her eyes brilliant.
Her eyebrows had been meticulously shaped into graceful arches, and her lips were stained. She had expected red, but Pasha had astutely guessed Marina would have hated it, and had selected a blushing pink that glistened and smelt like roses. Across Marina’s brow hung the thin chain, and the gem dangled in the centre between her brows. The chain continued around her temples until it ended with jeweled clips either side of her head.
Marina took a hesitant step to the left, wobbled, then stepped to the right with a bit more confidence. She was wearing what Pasha simply called a dress, but it was totally a bed sheet. Marina avoided explaining to Pasha the highly treasured eveningwear of her people was considered a fancy wrapped duvet cover in her dimension.
The robe collar dipped down at the back exposing her all the way to the base of he
r spine. It covered her shoulders but left the nape of her painted neck bare. She had to stand perfectly straight to stop it slipping off, and Marina was a proud sloucher.
The sleeves covered her hands and reached all the way to the floor, with slits so her hands could peek through rather than having to gather yards of fabric. The front was folded over in a wrap, and tied at the side with beautiful sash that blended in with the full skirts. The front was risqué. Slit down right to her navel, exposing all her collarbones and the inner parts of her boobs.
Pasha clucked when Marina fidgeted and tried to adjust the skirts again so she didn’t trip over. After spending an hour with Marina, Pasha had worked out her moods, and had transformed from a timid servant to a bolshie nurse.
“Your belly button isn’t pierced,” Pasha chided. “We shall see to that tomorrow.”
Marina blinked. “I beg your pardon? I have to get pierced now?”
“You must have seen that the dragon lords are fond of piercings and body ink.”
“Well, I haven’t actually seen any Chosen as yet. Daniil said they are all holed up inside the Citadel. And what does what they do have to do with me?”
“Dragon mates have their bellybuttons pierced. When you mate a dragon, you also have your nipples and ah, the other place pierced, princess.”
The blood left her head, and Marina swallowed the scream that started in the pit of her stomach. Nobody was coming anywhere near her with a needle. Ever. She didn’t even have her ears pierced – another discovery that had Pasha in a tizzy when she couldn’t even place diamond studs in Marina’s ears after she refused all the heavy gold bracelets and necklaces Pyotr had flown up from the Zar vault thinking she’d want to wear them.
Marina took a step and ended up tripping and clinging onto Pasha. “I can’t wear these damn things. She kicked off the wedges and tugged on a new pair of boots she’d bought earlier that day. “Don’t look so horrified. The skirts are so long nobody will see. I’d rather risk people seeing the toe of a boot than risk a broken neck.”
Smolder (Dragon Souls) Page 15