Page 92 of In the Embrace of Dragons

We are all immensely pleased when three weeks pass and Nissia doesn’t bleed. It will be some time before we can be certain, so we wait to celebrate, but we are all thrilled and giddy.

It truly is the perfect time for winter to set in, so we have plenty of cold days we can spend together and warm in bed. I am worried about Nissia going out, as neither she nor Ari are accustomed to the weather here, but she puts on the fur cloak I gave her and waves me off.

It will not be the first time, or the last, that I become protective of her. Her scent begins to change, and it stirs something deep in my gut that can’t be denied. I follow heraround like her puppy Daina does, who is quickly becoming a dog. Nissia comes to work with me more often than not during the day, as I find she has a keen mind for solving the problems of the kingdom. Her solutions are creative, and she often thinks of things Syzari and I have not. Though we only ask Quillion to guard us, Ragnakor spends much of his day in the room anyway. He hasn’t said as much, but I know Nissia’s scent affects him, too. He keeps an eye trained on her at all times, moving the same moment she moves.

One of her creative solutions was to hold a big party for our ceremony with Ragnakor. He still resists the idea of officially becoming the royal consort, but Nissia is closer now to convincing him. Then, if our child comes out looking the way we expect, no one will challenge their right to the throne.

She draws up missives to send out about our party, disguising the exact purpose. It is being passed off as a New Year’s celebration, but we will surprise the wardens with our plan.

“It will be a grand party to get them fed and drunk and happy first,” Nissia says proudly. “That’s how my father always did it. Show them a good time and they’ll listen to you.”

“Wise,” says Syzari, checking over the letter. “And then? What if they refuse to accept it?”

“Then I will put them in their place,” I interject. “I am the king.”

Nissia puts a hand on my arm. “I don’t believe it will come to that. We are simply making formal something that everyone already seems to know.”

I huff, hoping she’s right. Syzari drafts a dozen letters, then the queen and I sign them to send them off with pigeons.

NISSIA

It’s winter now, and I have only received one letter from home—not even written by my father, but by his advisor. I sigh and toss it away. Maybe he’ll have something to say once I announce that I’m pregnant.

Our first fight as a trio happens over hunting. There’s been word of a small group of moose living near Mirror Lake.

“No.” Vizarios crosses his arms. “I can’t have you thrown from a horse or gored by a moose while you’re carrying our dragonling.”

I square my stance. “I won’t get thrown from a horse. I’ve been practicing! I’ve gone on a dozen hunts now.”

“And never participated,” Vizarios corrects.

“But I want to throw a spear!” I stomp my foot like a child.

Ragnakor approaches Vizarios, setting a hand on his shoulder. The king relaxes under his touch, some of the tension draining out of him.

“The queen will be with me,” he says in his booming voice. “She will be safe.”

Vizarios shoots him a dirty look. “You’re on her side in this? With our dragonling growing inside her?” He hisses. “You don’t feel this anxiety?”

“It is just as risky as if she weren’t carrying a dragonling.” Ragnakor leans down to peck his king’s cheek. “Of course I worry. I always worry. But you must overcome it and let her be free.”

Vizarios looks mollified for now, but he still stalks out of the room muttering to himself about Ragnakor’s rebelliousness.

Striding over to me, the captain loops his arms around me, and I pull him down for a kiss.

“Thank you,” I say. “And for that time you told my father off, too.”

He chuckles. “I think I knew then I might fall for you. The woman who wears pants to ride her horse and hunts rabbits. It was inevitable.”

At last,it’s the day of the hunt. We take off early in the morning in pursuit of our quarry, and Daina leads the way as we leave the city far behind. We depart from the main road and track game trails through the woods, following the dogs’ wagging tails.

Then we hear it: strange, eerie sounds echoing through the trees. I pull my horse to a stop as my hair stands on end.

“What was that?”

“Mating calls,” Ragnakor says, and one of the hunters nods in agreement. “Males will be aggressive in their search for females, so we’d best be careful.”

I’m glad Vizarios isn’t around to hear that.