by Sera Trevor
“No, Your Honor.”
“You are aware that consorts are expected to be pure of heart and of body, are you not?”
“I’m aware that it’s the expectation, yes.”
“Then by your own admission, your very presence at Court is fraudulent.”
“I disagree. I was not asked to take a vow attesting to my virginity. The so-called ‘purity’ of a consort is an unwritten rule, as I understand it.”
Minister Eveth turned to one of her colleagues. “Minister Droge, is that true?”
Minister Droge—a short, bald man—flipped through an enormous book. “He is correct. There is no written rule that a consort must be a virgin.”
Adwig butted in. “It may not be the letter of the law, but it is its spirit. The role of consort to the king requires impeccable moral character. Lord Jasen not only lacks the dignity of a proper consort, he is also a liar who has deceived the king!”
“This is untrue,” Rilvor said. “I am well aware of Jasen’s past.”
A murmur rippled through the ministers; Minister Eveth waved a hand to quiet them. Adwig’s jaw had dropped in shock, but he composed himself quickly. “But it is not just his past, Your Majesty. He has been conducting an affair right under your nose! I have evidence that Lord Jasen had carnal relations with a guard, who he then had sent away to cover his crimes.”
“I am aware of your accusations,” the king said. “But your evidence is lacking. I have done my own investigation.” He nodded to the page, who left the room. He returned a few moments later with Larely by his side.
“If it pleases the ministers, I present Larely of Westrona to give testimony.”
The ministers’ murmurs were even louder this time. Minister Eveth had to call for order several times before the room quieted again. “Young man, you may give your testimony,” she said.
Larely wiped some sweat from his brow before speaking. “It’s true that I had romantic feelings for Lord Jasen, but he firmly rejected them. I have made a dragon-sworn written testimony to that effect.”
Eveth gestured to the page. “Let’s see it.” The page approached her and handed her an envelope. She opened it and scanned the contents before passing it to the minister beside her. “This all looks in order.”
“And what if he’s lying?” Adwig said, who had grown quite purple with rage.
“He has sworn directly to a dragon, in presence of draeds and draedesses,” Eveth countered.
“That does not guarantee the truthfulness of his testimony. It is not impossible for a hardened criminal to lie to a dragon.”
“Are you suggesting that this young man is a hardened criminal?”
“He comes from a long line of criminals!” Adwig said triumphantly. “His family is the most notorious in all of Westrona.”
“I do not believe a man should be judged by the actions of his family,” Rilvor said. “The dragons are convinced of the sincerity of his testimony, as am I. Do you doubt my judgment?”
Adwig hesitated. “Of course not, Your Majesty.”
Eveth raised her hand, drawing everyone’s attention. “All those in favor of accepting Larely’s testimony, say aye.”
Adwig was the only judge who remained silent. Eveth nodded her head. “Then it is settled. You are dismissed, young man.”
Larely bowed and left the room. When he was gone, Eveth turned her attention to Jasen again. “You may not be technically in violation of the law, but what do you say to the accusation that you lack moral character?”
“Kindness and humility are more important than sexual purity. Those are both qualities that I nurture in myself. And if sexual purity was the most important judgment of character, then I’m afraid the Allied Realms are in a great deal of trouble.”
Several of the ministers laughed, including Eveth. “True enough. Let us move on to the next point. While your humble origins do not disqualify you from taking on the role of king consort, it is still of some concern to several members of this council. In particular, your nationality makes you an unusual choice. A Grumhulian has never ascended to the throne, and the Grummish are known for their distrust of dragons. Magic in the realm has suffered as of late, and there is concern that your lack of connection with the dragons will worsen it. Can you speak to that?”
“Yes, Your Honor. I may be Grummish, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a connection with the dragons. As you are no doubt aware, I was called by a dragon on my first day in the Draelands—”
“So you say,” Adwig interrupted. “Or perhaps you sneaked off to the draemir without permission and happened to encounter a dragon. That isn’t the same thing.”
Jasen met Adwig gaze and continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’ve also been blessed.”
Several people gasped, including Rilvor.
“Were you aware of this, Your Majesty?” Eveth asked.
“No,” Rilvor said, the surprise evident in his voice. He looked to Jasen. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I only found out a few days ago.”
Adwig looked skeptical. “And what blessing did the dragons supposedly give to you?”
“Do I have permission to demonstrate?” At Eveth’s nod, Jasen took out his knife. Before anyone could respond, he drew the blade over the back of his hand, deep enough that he began to bleed. Several ministers shouted; Rilvor sprang to his feet. But before any of them could make a move, Jasen called forth his ability. For a moment he was afraid it would fail, but soon the same blue flames that had healed Tin flickered from his fingers. The wound closed. Jasen wiped the blood from his hand and held it up for all to see.
The room erupted as the ministers all started talking at the same time. The only one who wasn’t talking was Adwig, who had grown quite pale. Once again, Eveth called them to order. “How did you discover this power?”
“When I was in Grumhul, a child injured himself. I was able to heal him, just as I’ve healed myself now.”
“And why are you only just now aware of it?”
“I think because I didn’t have occasion to use it. Fortunately, the life of a consort usually doesn’t involve bodily harm.” That got a few laughs. Jasen waited for them to quiet before continuing. “But beyond that, I think I wasn’t ready to accept it yet. Whatever doubts you have about me, I have had about myself—maybe even more. I couldn’t imagine why on earth a dragon—or a king, for that matter—would choose me, out of all the more accomplished lords and ladies of the Court.
“My head was telling me that I wasn’t worthy. I was too busy thinking to listen to my heart. I was told by someone very wise that the dragons know our hearts better than we know them ourselves. Right now, the heart of humanity is changing. That’s why the dragons interfered in Westrona, and it’s the same reason they called to me.”
He turned to Minister Adwig. “I know that you only want what’s best for the Allied Realms. That’s what I want, too. However, the world is changing—clinging to the rituals of the past for their own sake is not the right way to move forward. I think we can both honor old traditions and move toward a future that increases the happiness of the people of the Allied Realms.”
Adwig still seemed shaken, but slowly, he nodded.
Jasen addressed the rest of the room. “My manners still aren’t the finest. I probably will make a lot of mistakes. But I promise I will always lead with my heart.” He met Rilvor’s gaze. “And the king and I are madly in love, which I hope counts for something.” He bowed. “And that’s my case. I await your judgment.”
Eveth folded her hands. “Well, you have certainly given us much to discuss, Lord Jasen. We will inform you of our decision when we reach it.”
The page led Jasen to another room where petitioners of the court were sent to wait as the ministers debated. Now that it was over, his nerves finally caught up to him. He collapsed into a chair, wondering how long it would take. His hands shook as took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat off his brow. A few tears slipped from his eyes, which
he wiped away, too.
The door opened, but it wasn’t the page—it was Rilvor. Jasen rose to meet him, and he was by his side in an instant.
“Have they made their decision?” Jasen asked.
“Not yet, no. I stepped out to give them time to debate.” Rilvor smiled. “But it is decided, either way. You will be my husband, no matter what they say.” Rilvor reached into his waist coat. From it, he removed a ring with a bright red jewel. “The jewel is from Tasenred,” he said. “And the ring is from me.” He got down on one knee.
Jasen laughed nervously. “What are you doing?”
“I need to hear it from you, unequivocally.” He held the ring up. “Lord Jasen, will you marry me and rule by my side?”
Jasen’s voice caught in his throat for a moment. “Yes,” he finally managed to say.
Rilvor slid the ring on his finger before standing up and embraced Jasen again, and then they were kissing passionately.
They only pulled apart when they heard a polite cough. It was the page. “Your Majesty, the council requests your presence.”
“Already?” Jasen asked. “Is that good news or bad news?”
Rilvor grinned. “Good, I think.” He kissed his hand. “I will see you in a moment.”
Rilvor and the page departed. Jasen sat down again, dazed. It all felt unreal. He looked down at his ring, which was sparkling far more than an ordinary jewel. The metal against his skin felt real enough, at any rate.
A few minutes later, the page returned. “They will see you now, my lord,” he said with a bow.
As soon as Jasen took his place on the floor, Minister Eveth spoke. “Lord Jasen,” she began. “You said that you were not the candidate any of us would have chosen, and you are correct. You are unusual in many ways. But it is the opinion of this court that you have pled your case with the grace and humility that we would expect of a king consort. We give you our full endorsement. Congratulations.”
Jasen’s knees felt weak. Fortunately, Rilvor was there by his side in a moment, sweeping him into his arm. And then they were kissing—it probably wasn’t proper decorum, but Jasen couldn’t bring himself to care. All his fears and insecurities melted away, at least for the moment. He was still apprehensive about taking on such a huge responsibility—but all love was responsibility, no matter if your partner was royalty or a peasant.
Jasen felt a now-familiar warmth in his chest, only it was ten times as strong as he’d ever felt it. He pulled back slightly. “Do you feel that?”
“Yes.” Rilvor took Jasen’s hand. “Come with me.” He looked over to the ministers. “All of you.”
Rilvor and Jasen led the procession of ministers outside, heading toward the gardens. Overhead, two dragons circled, then three, then five, and more, until soon the sky was thick with them. All of the members of Court and the servants had come outside too. They were laughing and shouting as the dragons dipped and swirled above them, the sun shining on their colorful scales, making the sky sparkle as if it were full of jewels.
Rilvor and Jasen left the rest of them behind and made their way to the draemir, where Tasenred waited for them. Jasen threw his arms around the dragon’s neck. “Thank you for believing in me.”
The dragon just snorted, the warm air tickling Jasen’s skin. Tasenred bowed his head in obvious invitation.
Jasen turned to Rilvor. “Do you want to go for a ride?”
Rilvor kissed him again. “There’s nothing I would like better.”
They climbed onto the dragon’s back and soon they were sailing through the sky. Tasenred joined the other dragons. Jasen laughed as they flew, his heart so full of joy that he thought it might burst. When he had first come to the Draelands, he never imagined it would end like this. He leaned back against Rilvor’s chest, relishing the feel of his arms around him, and of the dragon beneath him, and of the sun shining down on him, his lover, and the whole of the Allied Realms.
From here on out, there would be no escaping responsibility, but the thought no longer filled him with dread. He was bound, yes—but not chained. In fact, he had never felt so free.
Epilogue
Jasen examined himself in the mirror with satisfaction. His white frock coat was simple but elegant, with a subtle pattern of golden dragons; his red hair fell in waves over his shoulders, freed from any ribbons for once; and best of all, his shoes were extremely sensible.
“Is my lord pleased?” Rotheld asked.
“I am,” Jasen said with a smile. And he was pleased—not only with his wedding outfit, but with how well everything had turned out. Minister Adwig had resigned, saving Rilvor from the unpleasant task of putting him on trial. The rest of the Court accepted him immediately, as Rilvor had predicted. It was amazing to Jasen that he had been so blind to the support he had gained. He had always believed all the other consorts were merely attempting to curry favor with him and would turn on him the moment he slipped. Perhaps that was still true of some of them, but once Jasen’s engagment became official and his position was secure, he began to see that many of them truly liked him. More than once, he was taken aside by a consort who mentioned some kindness he had done them, and how much it had meant to them. Rilvor very gallantly did not gloat, although his look of satisfaction when Jasen told him about it was a tad on the smug side.
“You look very regal,” Risyda piped in. She and Polina were to be his groomsmaids. Their dresses were gorgeous, although not as ostentatious as what they used to wear. Both of them had adapted a more Grummish sensibility, which ironically made them very fashionable in Court. A few days after Jasen’s engagement was announced, Lord Banither had debuted his new, Grummish-inspired wardrobe. After that, the rest of the consorts fell in line. Gone were the corsets and impossibly tight breeches, as well as the eloborate wigs and enormous skirts. In truth, Jasen missed some of the opulence, although he was certain that fashion would find a happy medium after he had been on the throne for a while.
The thought still made his stomach flip, although not quite as much as it used to. He still wasn’t looking forward to the ceremony, although there was no helping it. Whenever he got too nervous, he imagined the trip to Rakon that they would take once the wedding celebration was over. They were bringing the children this time; he could hardly wait.
Polina fussed over Risyda’s dress, smoothing it out in the back. “I still think you should have gone with a different dress—it’s too long for you! You’re going to trip.”
“I’m not the one prone to tripping,” Risyda replied, although there was no irritation in her voice. Jasen still wasn’t sure what was going on between the two of them. It seemed as if they weren’t sure themselves, although it seemed they had settled into their new estate well enough. He was looking forward to visiting.
There was a knock at the door. At Jasen’s nod, Rotheld opened it. Larely stepped into the room, looking quite dashing in his official Westronan minister’s uniform. “I managed to sneak away to say good luck,” he said. “But I can’t stay long—she’s bound to notice I’m not there eventually.”
“Who—the Prosider?” Risyda asked.
Larely nodded. “Hopefully she won’t commit some diplomatic disaster in the meantime.” He shook his head. “And I thought that you and Risyda were trouble!”
Jasen grinned. “You seem to attract troublemakers.”
He grinned back. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. The Prosider is a good woman. Just rather…blunt. It causes an awful lot of trouble.”
Risyda laughed. “You’ll have to tell us about it some time.”
“I will.” He turned to Jasen and smiled wider. “You look amazing. I’m so proud of you.”
“And I’m proud of you, too.” Larely had become the Prosider’s closest advisor, and the two of them were slowly untangling the knots in Westronan society.
There was another knock on the door; this time, it was a page. “The ceremony is ready to begin, Your Majesty.”
Larely squeezed his shoulder. “I should go,
then. Good luck!”
After Larely left, Jasen turned to look at Polina and Risyda, who were both beaming. Waves of love and gratitude washed through him. He couldn’t believe how lucky he was.
Once they left the chambers, they were flanked by guards, all dressed in ceremonial uniforms. They made their way down the halls of the palace and out to the Bedrose gardens, where the wedding was to take place.
As Jasen and his wedding party appeared at the edge of the largest garden, hundred of pairs of eyes turned to them as the musicians began to play. The sheer number of guests was overwhelming—Jasen almost stumbled, but Risyda caught him, as she always did. Jasen shut his eyes briefly and took a deep breath. When he opened them again, he looked not at the crowd, but at Rilvor, who was waiting for him at the altar. He kept his gaze steady on his husband-to-be as he made his way down the aisle, with Polina and Risyda spreading rose petals ahead of him. Once he was near the altar, he caught a glimpse of the children, who were sitting with their new Granddad Draul. They all had identical grins on their faces. Queen Urga sat beside them. It had taken some conjoling to get her to the Draelands again, but she had at last relented and seemed genuinely glad to be there. Jasen gave them all a little wave before he joined Rilvor.
The rest of the ceremony was a blur, as was the grand feast afterward. There were so many people to greet and so many congratulations to receive. Jasen fielded them as best he could, although all he wanted to do was retire to the royal chambers (which were his now, too) and fulfill the promise in Rilvor’s gaze.
“This must be the happiest day of your life,” Lord Banither said, and hiccuped. He was more than a little drunk.
“Yes,” Jasen said, nodding absently, but he knew it wasn’t true. It was a good day, yes, but he was sure it would be far from the best. Who knew what wonders the future held for them?