“That’s the expression he gets on his face when he’s chatting telepathically with Jaxi, Sire,” Sardelle said.
“He looks constipated.”
“That sounds about right.”
Ridge tore his gaze from Therrik’s back, though he didn’t want to. He wanted to observe the man to make sure he didn’t drop down to one knee and pull out a promise necklace.
I assure you that he isn’t carrying, holding, or wearing any jewelry, Jaxi said. Bhrava Saruth already fulfilled the maximum allotment of necklaces allowed on board when he visited the yacht.
“I asked if you were nervous, Ridge,” Angulus said dryly, meeting Sardelle’s gaze.
“About my cousin’s future? A little, Sire.”
Angulus’s brow furrowed. Ridge assumed he hadn’t heard about Therrik’s love life. Or didn’t care. Ridge would like to not care as well, but as long as his family was involved…
“About the wedding,” Angulus said.
“Oh! I am a little concerned about the venue and the dragon that just flew ahead to prepare his throne, but I’m not nervous about marrying Sardelle.” Ridge gripped her hand. “Especially now that my mother has decided she will make an acceptable daughter-in-law and future mother to her grandchildren. I do thank you for talking to Mom, Sire.”
“You’re welcome, though I believe Sardelle healing her of a medical condition had more to do with your mother coming around.”
“Possibly. It’s difficult to dislike someone who saves your life from a horrible disease.”
“Or a horrible dragon,” Angulus said. “Just ask Therrik. He was forced to stop calling Sardelle names after that.”
“Mostly,” Sardelle murmured.
He’s not still calling you a witch behind my back, is he? Ridge asked silently, assuming she was monitoring him.
Not often. Lilah punches him when he does.
She’s a good cousin.
Yes, I like her. We have many common interests. That’s why I asked her to be one of my kin watchers, even though that’s frowned upon, inviting someone from the groom’s family to inspect him.
Yes, especially when she might give a less than stellar review of my attributes. Ridge smirked. He might have objected to Lilah as one of Sardelle’s kin watchers, but most of the women that she had come to know well in the months since she’d joined him in this time were either his relatives or his officers. He wished her family were still alive so she could have invited them.
He supposed Lilah would do a better job of uttering the lines than Tylie—he knew Sardelle had been thinking of her at one point. The last he’d seen Tylie, her sandals had disappeared—again—and she had been leaning over the railing, staring blankly into the water.
Actually, she was speaking with dolphins, Jaxi said.
Ah. Is it as fraught as speaking with dragons?
You would have to ask her, but they seem to be amenable creatures.
“It looks like we’ll arrive shortly.” Angulus nodded toward the opening in the cliffs ahead without commenting on the distracted—or constipated—expressions of all the people engaging in telepathic communication around him.
“Excellent.” Ridge turned toward the railing and rested a hand on Sardelle’s back as she also turned. A flutter teased his stomach. Maybe he was nervous.
“I look forward to seeing the venue,” she said as Angulus turned to talk to the skipper. “I’ve heard that most brides see and approve of the event space before the day of the wedding.”
“The finishing touches were still being, er, finished yesterday.”
“Is that supposed to make me more nervous? Or less?”
“I—” Ridge placed a hand on his chest, “—would have been perfectly happy having this at home in the yard as we originally planned. You and my mother were the ones to decide the area wasn’t suitable.”
“That’s because more and more people kept getting invited. Our yard isn’t that large.”
“People could have flowed out into the trees and over to the land by the pond. Nobody uses those areas except for us, anyway.”
“The land by the pond is all mud and reeds. Reeds coming up out of mud.”
“Clearly, we would have put the lesser guests out there.” Ridge looked over his shoulder at Therrik.
Sardelle shoved her shoulder against him. “He’s too heavy. He would have sunk into the mud.”
“Darn.”
Sardelle gripped Ridge’s arm as the king’s yacht swung into the little cove, curious to see what the temple looked like. She vaguely remembered flying over this island on journeys up the coast but was fairly certain it had only been a lump of stone a couple of square miles in size.
Gasps of surprise mingled with oooohs as the temple came into view. Sardelle blinked up at columns that stretched up to a massive slanted slab of a ceiling half as high as the surrounding cliffs. Sixty feet? Seventy? It was high enough that a dragon could fly straight in between the widely spaced columns without having to draw in his wings. Maybe that had been the point, though all she could think was that it was gargantuan for those with human proportions. Most of the inside stood empty, but rooms with ceilings of more modest heights lined the sides of the grand entryway.
The temple as a whole took up the entire front half of the island, which had been leveled recently, with wide marble steps leading up from a newly installed docking area. One that could easily accommodate a dozen ships. Bhrava Saruth must have been expecting hordes of people to visit him.
“I still can’t believe you managed to get that built in weeks, Zirkander,” Angulus said, standing with the yacht’s skipper a few feet behind them. “Things like that took lifetimes to build back in the era when slaves pulled slabs of rock out of quarries and across the desert on logs.”
“Well, this is the modern era, Sire,” Ridge said over his shoulder. “Also, Bhrava Saruth was quite willing to exert some effort to help with the construction. We used him to lift the heavy things. He’s more efficient than slaves. Doesn’t necessarily eat less.”
“What would I have to feed him to get him to repair the hole in my office wall?”
“That hasn’t been done yet? Sire, you’re the king.”
“You noticed. Excellent.”
“What I mean is, how can anyone be prioritized above you?”
Angulus sighed. “It’s not me. It’s the historical society that always gets so worried about renovations to their aged and venerable castle.”
“Hasn’t most of it been destroyed by enemies at this point?” Ridge asked. “Are there really any stones in it that are more than fifty years old?”
Sardelle sensed Angulus narrowing his eyes without looking. She thought about kicking Ridge’s foot with the pointed toe of her shoe, but he’d polished his boots for this. It would be a sartorial crime to sully them.
It’s not too late for him to back out as kin watcher, she told him silently, knowing how much it had meant for Ridge to ask Angulus and have him agree. Better be nice.
“Do you want me to get the same architect to come to the castle and take a look, Sire?” Ridge asked.
“Will I have to pay her in beer?”
“I think professionals prefer payment in nucros. With a beer bonus.” Ridge turned back, giving Sardelle a squeeze, as if to ask if he’d been nice enough.
She leaned on his arm as the yacht came around the island to head in to the dock, bringing more of the interior of the temple into view. The very colorful interior of the temple. All manner of trellises and gazebos covered with flower arrangements had been brought in.
“That’s a lot of flowers,” Ridge said.
“Was that Bhrava Saruth’s work? Or Fern’s?”
“They weren’t there yesterday. I don’t think Bhrava Saruth is that aware of the existence of flowers. He was more concerned that a huge throne carved from marble be installed.”
“She must be feeling a lot better if she arranged all that.” Sardelle glanced at the sole ship currently tied at th
e docks, a barge that would have been capable of bringing in all the woodwork and flowers. Not to mention the tables that the crew were carrying off it now. A few people in cooks’ whites waited on the deck for their turn to move things—Sardelle recognized the name of the catering company they had chosen on the aprons tied about their waists.
“Nothing could energize her more than being in charge of her only son’s wedding.” Ridge lowered his voice and leaned his temple against hers. “I really appreciate you taking care of her. I thought she just had a cold. I didn’t know mushrooms were growing in her lungs.”
“Fungi,” Sardelle corrected, bemused at the notion of toadstools sprouting up inside of human organs.
“Aren’t mushrooms fungi?”
“All mushrooms are fungi, yes, but not all fungi are mushrooms.”
“I love it when you say smart sciency things to me.”
“I love how impressed you are by basic biology.”
“We’re clearly made for each other.”
I may gag, Jaxi announced.
I thought you did that earlier when Vann was having snuggly thoughts toward Lilah. Sardelle may have eavesdropped on Jaxi’s conversation with Ridge.
I did. I have excellent gag reflexes. I can gag all day. Look, you’re making the king uncomfortable with your gooey talk.
Sardelle leaned away from Ridge to look back, mildly concerned Angulus truly might be uncomfortable.
But he wasn’t even looking at them. He was gazing toward the bow of the yacht. Admiring the splendor—or at least massiveness—of the temple? Ah, no. His gaze had locked onto the person walking toward them. Captain Kaika.
The last Sardelle had spoken with her, she had been debating between wearing her army uniform to the wedding or something “fun and slinky.” She’d said she would let the weather decide, since the army uniforms were “itchy when hot.”
She wore a silvery-blue dress that flowed from her shoulders down to her muscled calves while hugging enough of her body in between to turn eyes. Her form was more athletic than voluptuous, but several male sets of eyes followed her stroll toward Angulus—including his. He lifted an arm, and she ambled up to his side for a hug and to give him a butt pat.
Sardelle was surprised at the open display of affection, since, as far as she knew, they were still keeping their relationship quiet. But then, this was his yacht, and he had only invited a couple of dozen people on board, those close to him and to Ridge and Sardelle. Perhaps there would be less hugging once they were on land. Or perhaps not. Weddings tended to put people in the mood for love. Everyone except soulblades.
I can’t help it that I have taste. I am pleased, however, that you and your soul snozzle are getting married.
Thank you.
And that you chose a dress that will complement me nicely when I start glowing a pale blue.
You’re going to glow for us? Should we feel honored?
Obviously. I’ll wait until the priest officially marries you, and then I’ve got some fireworks planned. Taddy is going to help.
Oh? A hint of wariness crept into Sardelle as she looked toward Tylie’s spot—she’d switched from communing with dolphins to chatting with a seagull perched on the railing next to her. She wore one of her usual cotton dresses, this one not splattered with paint, and had Wreltad’s scabbard slung over her back on a strap. Should I be worried? You’re not going to try to blow off the roof, are you?
It would take more than the power of two soulblades to budge that roof. It must weight fifty tons. Given time, I could melt it…
Not necessary. I’m sure Bhrava Saruth wants his human friends to be protected from the rain when they visit.
It’s cute when you insist on calling them friends instead of followers.
I endeavor to be cute, Sardelle replied.
It’s even better when Ridge calls it a residence instead of a temple. I like Therrik’s label even better.
A stable?
Indeed.
You have not stepped onto my island yet, high priestess, Bhrava Saruth’s voice boomed in her mind, and already, I can hear the mouthiness of your sword.
Considering dragons have no ears, he can hear a lot from very far away, Jaxi observed.
I’m sorry she hasn’t yet come around to worshipping you, Bhrava Saruth, Sardelle said. One day, when you finally win her over, it will be a great triumph.
This is true. The other soulblade has already agreed to worship me.
What? Jaxi asked. Taddy, that’s not true, is it?
I agreed that he was a magnificent dragon, Wreltad spoke into Sardelle’s mind. It seemed wise.
You’re not the fearless warrior you think you are if a little dragon worries you.
He’s a large dragon. And you’re only being snippy because the fireworks display I have planned is grander than what you’ve been thinking of.
You don’t know my thoughts, Taddy. I only told you my fake plan. Because I knew you would turn it into a competition.
“Sardelle?” Ridge extended a hand toward the gangplank where their kin watchers had already filed off and onto the docks.
“I’m ready.” She walked with him. “But I should warn you that there may be explosions after our kiss.”
“Naturally.” He winked at her.
“I mean from external sources.”
“Oh? I didn’t see any place for Captain Kaika to smuggle explosives in that dress of hers, but I also didn’t search her purse. I assumed the king’s guards would handle that.”
“The soulblades are planning… It sounds like it’s turning into a competition.”
“Ah. Should we be flattered to know they care enough to try?”
“I don’t think so.” Sardelle went ahead on the gangplank, following the rest of the guests, people gawking as they approached the temple. It was even larger up close.
“You’re sure?”
“I believe they’re using us as an excuse for showmanship.”
Really, Sardelle. You know me better than that.
You’re scheming something new right now, aren’t you?
Maybe.
“Will it top my mother’s flower displays?” Ridge waved to Fern, who stood on the steps of the temple, pointing servers with platters toward tables.
“It may burn your mother’s displays.”
“Flowers are known to be disposable pleasures.”
“Not instantly disposable. You may be thinking of tarts.” Sardelle released Ridge’s arm and nodded to Fern. “I’m going to go check on your mother. Make sure she’s doing all right.”
“I suspect she’ll complain, tell you how stressed she is, and also be completely self-satisfied and pleased. I… Hm, I better go check on that development.”
They had reached the walkway leading from the docks up to the temple steps, and Ridge was pointing to a table at the top of those steps and off to one side. More specifically, he pointed to Lieutenants Duck and Pimples, who were holding a box and arguing with one of the king’s bodyguards. All manner of wrapped boxes and bags sat on the table. Wedding presents, Sardelle presumed. The bodyguard was holding his hand up, preventing the lieutenants from placing their box on the table. Well, whatever dubious thing was in there, the box was too small for it to be furniture.
“Yes, those are your men,” she said. “You should be able to handle anything they might have brought.”
“My men have interesting tastes.”
“I never would have guessed.”
Sardelle climbed the steps and went to the left, toward Fern, as Ridge walked toward Duck and Pimples, a slightly worried crease to his brow. She hoped they hadn’t brought something living. As much as she’d appreciated the sentiment behind the kitten that Captain Kaika had brought as a gift earlier in the summer, their house was awfully busy these days with furred, feathered, and scaled creatures coming through, some as permanent residents, some as Tylie’s woodland friends. Some as dragons in unexpected forms.
“Sardelle,” Fern exclaim
ed, spotting her from several paces away, smiling and lifting her hands.
Sardelle suspected nothing would get past her today. As she directed people here and there, she was akin to a squadron commander directing her pilots into battle.
“Good afternoon, Fern,” Sardelle said, bowing her head.
Fern clasped her hands. “You’re so beautiful in that dress. I must admit, I was worried when my illness—thank you for making me that tea and helping me feel better—prevented me from joining you to shop for it, especially when I heard that some of Ridge’s officers accompanied you.” She shook her head, the most aghast expression on her face. “I feared they were some of the same ones that picked out that dreadful couch.”
“Actually, I believe they had that couch handmade to their specifications.”
“That doesn’t make me feel better, Sardelle.”
“But no, I’m positive that Cas—Lieutenant Ahn—had little to do with that couch. I don’t think Kaika did, either, since she’s not one of his pilots.”
“Mm, and Lilah went with you also, didn’t she? I must say her tastes run toward the staid and academic, don’t they? I just wasn’t sure. But this is a fabulous dress. So elegant!”
“Thank you. Lady Masonwood picked it out for me. She has a shop in town.”
“Oh yes, I’ve heard of it. But her clothing is so expensive, dear. However did you manage… Do witches make a lot of money?” Her aghast expression turned to one of puzzlement.
“Not as a general rule.” Sardelle decided not to correct the witch usage. She was pleased Fern was back to being warm and enthusiastic toward her. “Unless they’re entrepreneurial. And then there are of course ways to use one’s talents. In this case, Lady Masonwood gave me a deep discount in exchange for wedding invitations. I believe I saw her coming out on the king’s yacht.”
“The king’s here now, isn’t he? I better go greet him. And nobles are coming too?” Fern gripped Sardelle’s arm. “I must say that it’s daunting interacting with these people.” She glanced over Sardelle’s shoulder and pointed at a young caterer bearing casks labeled as mead and wine. “No, no, not there. There.”
Sardelle couldn’t imagine anything would daunt Fern for long today.
Oaths (Dragon Blood, Book 8) Page 29