Before she married anyone, though, she wanted to hear more of what these crafty generals had to say to her charming but naive groom. He had a great deal of savvy when it came to earning his living at the market or in taverns, and she didn’t doubt he knew how to charm his way out of trouble, but in her opulently cutthroat royal court, he was an innocent. She hoped he stayed this way. It was one reason she liked him so much. Even…loved him. It was true, though she had trouble saying it. She couldn’t imagine life without him, and she was glad they were to marry, but given how many people wanted to stop them, she wasn’t about to trust anyone.
Ravensford braced his hand against the mantel and gazed into the empty hearth. He was a burly man, probably in his forties, with a wide face and a shock of golden-brown hair that gave him a stoic appearance. Jade knew little about him except that he was a close friend of the Harsdown king and had distinguished himself during the war nineteen years ago.
“Do you ever use these fireplaces?” Ravensford asked.
Spearcaster was opening a drawer of the table. “Not often. It’s usually too hot.” He searched through the drawer, probably for a flint to light the candles.
Fieldson was leaning against the panel Jade had used to enter the room. “Why is it,” he grumbled, “that women take so much longer than men to put on their clothes?”
Spearcaster glanced up and smiled. “The result is usually worth the wait.”
“Maybe someone got to her.” Drummer was pacing, his forehead creased with worry, which made Jade feel guilty. Not enough to reveal her presence, though. For all she knew, they were the ones about to “get” to her, using Drummer as their foil.
“Baz looked ready to melt the sky today,” Spearcaster said. “He’s letting emotions blind his logic. Any fool can see how many problems this marriage will solve.”
“If Jarid agrees to the treaty,” Ravensford added.
“I’ve known Jarid for years,” Fieldson said. “I think he’ll agree.”
Drummer spoke darkly. “Baz and Slate and Firaz are probably somewhere right now plotting how to steal Jade away.”
Spearcaster closed the drawer. “They’re down with the army, discussing strategy.” Drily, he added, “But then, so am I.”
Drummer raised his eyebrow at the lanky general.
“Firaz is there,” Spearcaster allowed. “Baz, I doubt it.”
“And Slate?” Drummer asked.
Spearcaster considered the question. “He’s probably with the army. He’s always had a soft spot where Vizarana is concerned. If she wants to marry you, I don’t think he would try to stop her even if he disagreed with the decision.”
“What about the atajazid?” Fieldson asked. “He has as much stake in this as Baz Quaazera.”
“But no idea of Her Majesty’s condition,” Spearcaster said. “My guess is that Ozar is out there with his army.”
“That close?” Drummer stiffened. “You mean, Baz could get him? Tonight?”
“Possibly,” Spearcaster said. “But I don’t think he would.”
It didn’t sound to Jade as if they were conning Drummer. In fact, their assessment of the situation matched hers. She could wait until they left the room to look for her, and then she could come out. That would be more diplomatic than just stepping out of her hiding pace, which would reveal she had been spying on them. But waiting for them to leave the room would take too long. She wanted this wedding done as soon as possible, a finished act no one could stop.
So much for diplomacy. Jade stood up and stepped out from behind the cabinet. “Light of the morning, gentlemen.”
They all spun around, the officers drawing their swords fast, Spearcaster’s glinting and curved, Ravensford’s and Fieldson’s straight and heavy. Drummer stared as if she had risen out of the ocean on a plume of froth. The candlelight gilded his face, and his eyes seemed lit with an inner glow.
“Why the weapons?” Jade asked, cool outside, jumpy inside.
Spearcaster exhaled, a long breath, and sheathed his blade. Fieldson and Ravensford followed suit.
“My apologies, Your Majesty,” Spearcaster said. “We are on edge tonight.” He was staring, too. They were all looking at her that way, as if she were something scrumptious to eat, like a clam or a mussel or some other delicacy from the Blue Ocean.
Drummer came forward and took her hands. “Saints, Jade.”
Self-conscious, she answered in a low voice only for him. “Is something wrong with me?”
“Believe me, no.” He raised her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You are devastating, love. If you were to walk among all those armies right now, their warriors would be so helplessly smitten, they would fall to the ground and swear allegiance to you forever.”
“I would hope not,” Spearcaster muttered, going behind the cabinet where Jade had been hiding. “The ones who aren’t ours would be violating their oaths of fealty.”
Jade slanted an annoyed look at the general. “He was being poetic. It’s allowed with grooms, you know.”
Spearcaster tapped on the wall. “How did you get out of here? It doesn’t sound hollow.”
“Hmm,” Jade said.
“If you know a secret way out of this citadel,” Fieldson said, “we need to know. Your cousin has all the entrances guarded.”
She took Drummer’s hand. “In another room of this suite.”
In the main room, Jade went to a niche similar to the one in her parlor. Within moments, she was opening another secret door. They filed into the tunnel beyond and closed the door. Ravensford carried a candle. It cast their shadows ahead of them in a rough passageway of large, old bricks.
“I had no idea this was here,” Spearcaster said.
Jade detested having to show them. Now he would search for other passages, and knowing him, he would find them.
“You are sworn to tell no one,” Jade said. “All of you.”
They each gave their word. She trusted Drummer. Spearcaster maybe. He had been the closest she had to a father since the death of the king. Actually, he had been more like a father to her than her own father. She had great affection for him, but she had long ago learned that what he considered her own best interest didn’t necessarily coincide with her own thoughts on the matter. If he decided to map these hidden passageways for the army’s use, she might have a hard time convincing him to keep the secret from even his top people. No matter what he decided, though, she knew he would make that choice to protect his queen and her country.
Fieldson and Ravensford were another story. She had no reason to trust them, and as impressed as she had been with both of them, especially Fieldson, she knew they would act first in support of their sovereign, King Muller. As she led them through a maze, she chose as confusing a route as possible.
Finally Jade reached the wall panel she wanted. She turned to the others. “This opens into an alley in Sun’s Breadth, the town around the citadel.”
Spearcaster stood with his arms crossed, frowning. “If this passage lets us sneak into town, that means it could let someone in town sneak into the citadel.”
“That’s why no one knows about it,” she said. “And why you are sworn to secrecy.” She knew Spearcaster would set up a guard system now that Fieldson and Ravensford knew about the entrance.
Jade pressed a pattern into the starflower on the door and cracked the portal open. Spearcaster leaned past her and set his palm against the wood panel. “You are sure Baz doesn’t know about this exit?”
“As far as I know,” Jade said.
He stepped past her, then edged open the door and peered out. After a moment he beckoned to them. They followed him into an alley with high walls on either side. Dust drifted around them, and the air smelled of night-blooming desert weed. A small animal ran past Jade’s sandaled foot. She grimaced and stepped back, but she didn’t cry out or even jerk.
With Drummer at her side, Jade led the way along narrow lanes hidden between buildings. She knew the route well, having often come here as
a child. She had played in the alleys, accompanied by her taciturn bodyguards. Apparently it had never occurred to her parents to provide their child with friends her own age.
The Temple of the Dragon-Sun stood in a secluded area amid gardens and terraces with water flowing over the stone. The layered design of its roof matched the gardens. Pots hung from every level, lush with vines: fire-lilies, red pyramid-blossoms that opened at dawn, snap-lions, sun-orbs, and scalloped fire opal blossoms with petals as bright as flames.
As temples went, this one was small. The interior was one room, with a stone table at the far end and benches arrayed before it in curving rows. The cool spaces, all stone and air, soothed Jade’s nerves. Candles shed gold light around the table but left the rest of the temple in shadow. People prayed here to the dragon spirit who put the sun in the sky, the flames in the sunset, and the fire in the souls of men and women.
The dragon priestess stood by the table, one hand resting on a scroll tied with red and gold cords. She was an older woman, slender and frail, dressed in a sunset-hued robe. Jade recognized her; she had served at Jade’s fifteenth birthday celebration, when the Topaz Heir officially became an adult. Back then, the woman’s hair had been mostly black, her posture straighter, her face less lined. But her otherworldly quality and her serenity were the same.
The priestess beckoned to them. “Come out of the shadows.” Her voice was rich, though thinned a bit with age. “Let me look at you. I don’t see so well—” She stopped as Spearcaster came up to her. “Oh, my. You?”
The craggy general knelt and bowed his head. She rapped him on the head. “Stand up, young man. Goodness, Ravi. Aren’t you married yet?”
Drummer hung back in the shadows with Jade. “Ravi?” Amusement washed across his face.
“His personal name is Ravel,” Jade murmured. She was glad Spearcaster was here. She wished things could have been different with Baz, too, that he would have also stood at her side. And Firaz and Slate. They meant a great deal to her despite how they always argued with her, or maybe even partly because of that.
“Doesn’t the priestess know who she’s going to marry?” Drummer asked.
Jade shook her head. “It was a precaution. Ravensford dressed in old clothes and went to talk to her. He didn’t say anything more than a ‘young man and woman.’”
The priestess surveyed Spearcaster as he stood up, looming over her. “I’ve never seen you so glossed up,” she said with approval. “You look quite the groom. But I would have thought a man in your position would want a formal wedding in Quaaz with all the pomp and the big temple.”
His face creased with an affectionate smile. “I’m not the groom, Blessed One.”
“No?” She raised her eyebrows. “These young folks must be quite something, to have you attend their wedding, especially at such an hour.” She peered into the shadows. “Well, well, I can’t see anything. Come forward, all of you.”
Jade glanced at Drummer. “This is your last chance to escape marrying me.”
He smiled at her. “I’m not so easy to get rid of, Dragon Princess.” He used her dynastic title, from the ancient tales that named a queen of Taka Mal as a princess of the Dragon-Sun.
As they walked forward, holding hands, the priestess squinted. “Goodness! What a beautiful couple. Here, here, let me see bet—” She broke off as they came into the light. “Saints above,” she murmured. With a grace that belied her age, she went down on one knee before Jade.
“I am honored, Blessed One,” Jade said. She touched the priestess’s head far more gently than the elderly woman had conked Spearcaster. “Please stand.”
The priestess rose and looked over their party, including Fieldson and Ravensford in their white and violet uniforms. She spoke quietly. “Are these the witnesses, Your Majesty? For a royal wedding, at least one other besides myself must be a citizen of Taka Mal.”
“I stand as her second witness,” General Spearcaster said.
The priestess nodded. “We are honored.”
“Have you prepared the scroll?” Spearcaster asked.
She indicated the parchment on the table. “Everything is here, as requested.”
“Shall we proceed, then?” Jade asked. Incredibly it looked as if this wild plot would succeed.
“Do you wish any extra readings?” the priestess asked.
“Nothing.” Jade spoke with gentle urgency. “The faster you can marry us, the better.”
“I see.” The priestess paled, and Jade didn’t doubt she understood the significance of a royal wedding done in secret, in the depths of the night, while three armies faced each other across a narrow strip of land that defined the border.
With Jade and Drummer standing before her, the priestess sang the Dragon-Sun chant in High Alatian, a ceremonial language with stricter rhythms than modern speech. It was a prayer to the spirits of the sky and the wind and the flames of life, wishing love and good fortune for the wedding couple.
When the priestess finished the chant, she lifted a string of fire-opal blossoms off the table. They glowed as vibrantly as Jade’s silk dress. She touched Drummer’s forehead with the petals. Softly she said, “What is your name, son? I need the formal version.”
“Drummer Creek Headwind,” he said. “Son of Appleton by blood and kin to Dawnfield by marriage.”
The priestess’s hand jerked, scraping the petals across his forehead, but to her credit she showed no other shock to the news that she was about to wed a Dawnfield to a Quaazera.
“Drummer Creek Headwind,” she said. “Her Majesty, Vizarana Jade, Queen of Taka Mal, would take you as the Topaz Consort, her husband and the father of her heir. Do you accept?”
“Oh, yes.” Drummer’s face had a glow Jade had seen only twice before—yesterday when she revealed her pregnancy and tonight in the Sunset Room. He exuded a joy she would never deserve, not if they lived a century. As her consort, he would see grief and war and death, politics and deceit, treachery and violence. He had lost forever the days when he could wander the dales of his home with no concerns except to feed and clothe himself. She could offer him a throne and her kingdom and shower him with gems and gold, but she could never give him back that freedom. Perhaps if she loved him well enough and long enough, someday she would earn this joy that he gave so freely, without condition.
The priestess anointed Jade on the forehead with the fire opal. “Vizarana Jade Quaazera, do you accept this man as the Topaz Consort?”
“Yes.” Jade wanted to tell the stars. “I accept.”
“No!” The shout came from behind them.
Jade whirled around. Warriors were pouring into the temple, armored men with swords and snarling dragon-sun helmets. They strode up the aisle, weapons clanking, boots thudding on the stone floor—led by their commander, her cousin, Baz Quaazera.
“You’re too late,” Jade said. “The ceremony is done.”
Baz had his gaze fixed on Drummer. He unsheathed his sword, and it glittered in the candlelight.
“Baz, no!” Jade was aware of Spearcaster, Fieldson, and Ravensford drawing their weapons. Her voice echoed in the spaces of the temple. “Think well before you wield arms against your queen and her consort, for you would be committing treason.”
The warriors stopped around the table, cutting off escape but coming no closer. Except Baz. He strode into the candlelight. With dismay, Jade realized she may have underestimated how far he would go to stop this marriage. Seeing the desperate rage on his face, she knew he was capable of killing Drummer.
“Baz, no.” She started forward, but Drummer and Spearcaster both grabbed her by the arm, one on either side of her, and pulled her back. Every man in the temple had drawn his blade, and she knew they were going to fight. Someone would die here, and whoever survived would face execution for murdering a queen’s officer—or for assassinating her consort.
Then Drummer pulled his cube out from a pocket of his vest. He extended his arm forward at chest height with the cube resting in hi
s open palm. With his gaze on Baz, he said, simply, “Stop.”
“You cannot fight me with a little block of metal,” Baz said.
With no warning, gold light flared around Drummer’s hand. Baz took a fast step backward.
“It is the Dragon-Sun,” Drummer said, his minstrel’s voice full and resonant. “The sunset has blessed this marriage.”
The light around his hand intensified and filled the temple. It turned fiery orange, then red, and finally the deep crimson at the end of the sunset as day passed into night. It lit them all with its ruddy glow.
“The Dragon breathes to protect the queen,” Drummer said, and flames erupted from his hand. Jade felt their heat, yet they had no effect on him. He stood bathed in their light and stared at Baz as if challenging him to defy the dragon in its own temple. Baz didn’t move.
Gradually the flames faded, leaving only candlelight. Drummer lowered his arm. Everyone stared at him; no one moved or spoke. Even Jade, who had seen his “parlor games,” was frozen. This was no trick. Either her husband truly did have the blessing of the Dragon-Sun or else she had just married one of the notorious Dawnfield mages. Apprehension swept over Jade, for she didn’t believe Drummer had miraculously communed with the Dragon-Sun. By the saints, what had she done? Her new husband was a sorcerer.
Baz let out a long breath. He slid his sword into its curved sheath, and at his action, the other warriors sheathed theirs. He came forward then, and Jade knew her cousin truly was a man of great courage, for she doubted any of his warriors would approach Drummer right now.
Baz spoke to Jade. “The marriage is done?”
She answered in her throaty voice. “It is done.”
“Then I will mourn.” His sense of betrayal was written on his face. “And tomorrow Taka Mal will fall to Cobalt the Cruel.”