The Dragon Prince's Consort

Forty-One

Remitha Chatterjee entered the conference room followed by her personal assistant Thomas, both quietly marveling at the gold-streaked marble walls and clusters of crystal fittings over soft yellow lights. They were admitted by two Drass females, both looking remarkably similar not just in their Wardens' dress but in face as well, so much that Remitha privately wondered if they were related. Both women regarded Remitha with silent courtesy, acknowledging Thomas with a nod and gesturing to the couches placed across from each other on either side of a low table laid with delicate ceramic cups, plates, and long trays of little snacking things – triangles of bread and fruit-filled pastries, a bowl of sugar perfumed with teaflower blossoms, silver carafes in buckets of fresh snow, a separate plate of roasted root vegetables arranged artfully by color and size, and a small cut of meat that was probably from the hairy cow-like creatures called yangru by the locals.

"His Grace and Her Ladyship will be with you soon," the older Drass woman informed them, her voice pleasantly low. "Prince Valen would like you to make yourself comfortable. Help yourselves to anything on the table while you wait, you will not wait long."

Remitha nodded and pointed a finger at the couch, directing Thomas to take his position so he could ready his tablet for note-taking. "Thank you, Madam Warden." Prince Valen? The dwarf? She'd never met the so-called Royal Runt, not in all her years dealing with the Drassians. She'd heard things about him, that he was shy and tended to leave the running of the Empire to his father and brothers, but as far as seeing him in person she'd only caught glimpses. The mention of the mysterious Lady Lienfang, now that caught her attention in iron teeth. The Ladies almost never make appearances during these things, will I finally be able to put a real face to the rumors?

Thomas waited for the Wardens to leave the room before shifting his attention to Remitha. "Ma'am?"

"Abhee nahin," Remitha held up her hand, clustered gold and silver bracelets competing with the dark red mehndi patterns drawn on her fingers. "We wait, Thomas. The Drassians never give away more than they are willing, we'll find out soon enough if this Lady Lienfang is indeed as the reports say." Remitha's contacts in the Empire had all described this mysterious woman as the niece of wealthy-yet-secretive entrepreneur Lee Shan and therefore well-connected enough to have met this Dragon Prince. That she'd accepted the traditional offer of a bride-price to this secretive young Drass had come as a surprise to many, though perhaps a life of incredible luxury and fabulous wealth would make any woman happy enough to come live with the ajagar-people of this freezing planet; just the thought made Remitha shiver. "Best we sit and make nothing of it."

"Yes ma'am." Thomas, ten years her personal assistant, took her instruction and began to put together a plate for her. "Though if I may, Madam Envoy–"

"You may not. We do not make any assumptions when it comes to the Drass, least of all their Imperial Family and all those connected to it. We still don't know what they mean by this 'blended colony' – perhaps this younger, less-experienced prince will slip and tell us the truth." Thomas nodded, pouring a cup of tea. Remitha received it and its lovely gold-filigree saucer, wondering how the seven-foot Drass handled such delicate things. Nothing about them, from their tough red-scaled skin to their curving black horns, suggested they were capable of such dexterity. Lady Lienfang must be a tough woman to take on one of these things, dwarf or not.

As if summoned by her thoughts, the Dragon Prince in question entered the conference room by way of a door on the far end of the space. He came wearing the rich robes Remitha was used to seeing on formal occasions, and in spite of his smaller stature he wore them exceptionally well – the long outer robe of black silk glittered with a subtle pattern of micro-fine gold thread so understated it was nearly invisible; beneath this he wore a cream tunic with wide gold lapels held together with pins attached by delicate gold chains. The sharp contrast of black and cream made his red skin flame, its slight variations of shade like embers among coals. His fingers, wrist (one was encased in a starkly white plaster cast), horns, neck, ears and even his nose flashed with heavy loops of gold chain, chunks of crystal and chips of diamonds and rubies – he truly did look like a dragon wearing the best of his hoard, and he fairly jingled as he walked.