The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) (11 page)

“Is there something in the forest?” Clara asked, stiffly following his eyes.

Vlad cleared his throat. “No. I was just, ah, no.”

She relaxed.

“Your skin is very beautiful,” he said, again looking at her neck. He liked kissing her there, near the pulse. It had sped beneath his lips, attesting to the pleasure she felt when he touched her.

“Thank you. My handmaids apply a special cream each morning before I awake, which reminds me that I will require at least three servants—two handmaids and a companion for when I leave the noble residence.”

Vlad arched a brow before he could stop himself.

“Or two,” she quickly amended at the look, “if three are too many. A handmaid can act as a companion as well.”

He didn’t answer, unsure what to say. It didn’t feel right soliciting for servants. Those who served chose that life path. No one asked them to do it.

“Or one?” Clara seemed worried by the thought of only one. “I will take care of their salary, of course. There is little shame in a noble household that is without means. It happens. It is the bloodline that matters.”

Vlad changed his mind. He didn’t want to hear anymore. He lifted his hand to the ceffyl’s horn and tapped it a couple times. The beast moved faster, cutting off the conversation, and Vlad began to run alongside it.

* * *

Despite what she had said, Clara was very glad she didn’t have to walk up the mountains. The journey was longer than she’d anticipated. For some reason, she’d thought Vlad would live closer to the palace.

To discover her noble husband had little money was disheartening. It only proved how valuable her mother’s insight had been when she’d hidden jewels and space credits in her daughter’s trunk and gown. Surely she could afford one servant with plenty of money left over. Commoners would be grateful for the work in a noble home.

Vlad had been running for miles, but he hardly seemed fazed by the exercise. It took nearly all of Clara’s concentration and balance to remain on the ceffyl’s back. When Vlad’s pace slowed, the animal beneath her instantly adjusted to match. Vlad took several deep breaths as he glanced around the forest. The trail had narrowed when they’d ventured into the trees. Willowy limbs swayed overhead, creating a canopy of shade. Tiny specks of light danced on the forest floor littered with tiny plants. Bright blue birds dove from the tree limbs, attacking something she couldn’t see on the ground. Each time they swooped close to her she jolted a tiny bit, startled by the blurry movement. Suddenly, a tiny laugh sounded from behind the trees to interrupt the blue bird’s soft, low shrill.

“What was that?” Clara whispered. “I heard something.”

“Just now?” Vlad looked at her in surprise. “The village boys have been stalking us for nearly three miles.”

“What do they want?”

“They’re boys.” Vlad gave a dismissive gesture.

“And…?” she prompted.

“Boys stalk things in the forest,” he said. “You have several brothers. I’m sure you know how boys play.”

“No. We were segregated during those times.” Clara jerked as she heard another laugh. This time it was louder.

“You’re getting better, but not good enough,” Vlad yelled. “Now come out and greet my wife, little dragons.”

A group of boys instantly converged upon them like the raining of savage, yelling monkeys. Several fell down from the trees ahead of her on the path. Others jumped into view. One rolled from behind a rock. Their eyes glowed as she’d seen Vlad’s do, with varying shades of gold in their depths. Each brandished a weapon of sorts—sticks, stones tied to strings, a handful of pebbles—and screeched an ungodly loud battle cry. Clara gasped in fright. The high-pitched sound startled the ceffyl whose shifting movement made her lose her balance. Since a lady touched as little as possible with her hands, Clara hadn’t been holding on. She slid off the ceffyl’s back, flailing in panic before thudding painfully on the moist ground.

Instantly, all sound stopped but for the gurgling upset of the ceffyl as it pawed the forest floor. A few of the boys began to chuckle, only to think better of it when Clara didn’t readily stand to face them. She slowly pushed up from the ground with her elbows. One by one, the boys lost their fighting stances.

Vlad reached down to help her. “Clara, are you injured?” He instantly hooked her arm as she’d shown him to do in the marriage tent and helped her to her feet.

Her answer was a weak noise as pain radiated down to her toes from her side. The stiff boots had kept her legs straight and jarred her hip during the fall. She felt tears burning her eyes but she forced them away. Her lip trembled slightly, but she managed to say evenly, “I am fine.”

The boys had all dropped their weapons to the ground and stood frozen, wide-eyed and scared as they looked at Vlad.

“We didn’t mean…” one boy tried to say.

“We thought,” another added before pointing at Clara’s face. “She has on war paint.”

“You always play with us in the forest.” The tallest boy crossed his arms, almost defensively. “And she is your wife.”

The way the child said it made it seem as if that was reason enough for their actions. She waited for her husband to punish them, prepared to step in and forgive as they were only children and she would hate for them to be sentenced to death for attacking a lady.

“I know,” Vlad said to them instead.

Clara looked at him stunned. Her mouth opened, the pardon already on her lips. She pulled it back, not speaking.

“You meant no harm, but let this be a lesson to be more careful in the future with ladies new to our planet.” Vlad waved his hand. “Run ahead to the village. I am sure your mothers are looking to feed you soon.”

The boys obeyed. A few picked up their weapons as they began a new game of chasing each other down the path.

“Sorry about that,” Vlad said. “I had no idea they would mistake your,” he looked at Clara’s face and gave a small chuckle, “face paint as war paint.”

She barely heard his words. Her hip throbbed, sending waves of pain down her leg and up her back. Trying to look balanced, she leaned all her weight on one foot to ease the pressure on her injured hip.

“We’re almost there. Once we arrive I’ll take you to get cleaned up. Can you ride?”

Clara nodded once and weakly said, “As you wish.”

* * *

Clara stared at the center horn of the ceffyl, focusing on biting the tip of her tongue each time it stepped forward on its right legs. The movement swayed her onto her injured side, which in turn caused a wave of pain along her body. Vlad didn’t speak as he continued onward. Though she listened, a little worried the rowdy boys would attack again, she heard nothing beyond the blue birds in the trees.

The first signs of civilization came in the form of a small home set into the trees. It was constructed of rocks stacked evenly together and trimmed with planks of wood. Even rows of plants grew in a very small, very strange square of a garden spot. One of her small attackers smiled at her from where he sat alone on a large stone, not pausing in his pointless task of smacking a large stick against the ground in steady thumps.

Clara nodded once at his attention, unsure as to why he was looking directly at her like that. The oddness of the encounter took her mind off her pain for a moment.

“What is this place called where we are going?” she asked.

“Mining Village.” Vlad glanced back at her before turning his attention forward once more.

The mud on her gown had begun to dry and crumble, though the material still felt wet against her hip and ass.

“That is its name?” Clara tried to shift her weight, but it did little good. No matter how she adjusted herself, she was uncomfortable.

Vlad chuckled. “Not very creative, I know. It used to be called Mining Camp, but then the miners discovered a rich vein of ore and their families built homes to settle the area and it became Mining Village. Apparently, their wives didn’t want to raise their children in tents.”

“Rightly so,” Clara agreed. “You’re not primitives.”

He gave a small laugh and said wryly, “Thanks for noticing.”

More homes very much like the first stone one appeared in greater frequency in the trees. The forest opened to a long valley cut into the earth. Mining Village was nestled into the rectangular valley, opening up toward a jagged cliff surrounded by a mountain view on one side and dense trees on the other. The sound of water, faint and constant, came from beyond the cliff.

Vlad led the way down into the small village to a center main street paved with stones. The village was kept immaculately clean, built with a calculated perfection of angles. Along each side of the center road, four buildings were plotted together, then another four, then another, and so on, each cluster separated by a side street that cut through at a ninety-degree angle. The four structure pattern continued along the side streets, easily discernible from her height above the village. The houses were of rock and wood and, from what she could discern, unless they were banished from the village, it appeared as if even the poorest of the Draig people were well cared for.

As they rode closer and reached the main street, she could no longer see the entire village. People came from their homes and workplaces to view the newcomers. Clara stiffened and sat as straight as she could, despite the discomfort it caused her body and the precariousness of her balanced position on the animals’ back. She forced her face to tense as she stared forward above her husband’s head. At least, she tried to stare forward. Her eyes kept wandering to the side as she gazed upon the people and things around her. Had she known they would have a procession through the commoners, she would have insisted he allow her to fix herself.

Vlad was much more relaxed as he waved in greeting. Several people called him by name, not title. Such disrespect would have been severely punished on her home world. Even she had to call her father “Great Lord” when in public.

She noticed some of the young boys from the forest. They were standing with their parents, talking excitedly and pointing in her direction. A few waved like they were already well acquainted with her. She nodded at them, unsure how to respond. The openly curious expressions of the crowd combined with smiles and greetings to her husband made Clara uncomfortable—not because they were nice, but because she had no idea how to respond to such things. Until that moment, she’d not realized just how alien this world really was.

Her heart began to beat hard in her chest and her hands trembled. She glanced around, hoping to see their destination—the manor he would take her to. There were only more houses. How could she monitor herself with nowhere to retreat to?

Let it be over. Let it be over. Let it be over.

Her situation overwhelmed her. The gown she wore was too thin, too indecent. The skirt did nothing to hide her natural curves. It closely matched the ladies of the village, although hers had the addition of the dragon crest, finer embroidery and her hemlines were more ornately stitched. The Draig men wore light linen tunics with the comfortably loose drawstring pants she’d seen near the palace. A few of them were covered in fine dirt, all except their eyes, which were surrounded by two clean ovals where goggles had been.

“Vladan!”

Clara forgot herself as she turned to the excited feminine voice. The woman who called to her husband was pretty, with rich dark hair that flowed down her back in large curls and a bright, open face. Her dark eyes were expressive as she ran from the front of one of the homes toward Vlad.

“We did not expect you so soon!” the woman continued. She wrapped her arms around Vlad in a tight embrace, which her husband returned.

Clara’s ceffyl stopped walking and interested himself with nearby grass growing along the center street. She barely noticed as she watched the ritualistic greeting unfold. The woman’s hand lingered on Vlad’s arm. Clara felt dizzy.

“Arianwen, it’s great to see you,” Vlad said. “How are the boys?”

“They’re in the mines. One of the shafts caved in last night and they’re helping to dig it out,” Arianwen said. “No one was hurt, but it is strange. I’m sure Tomos will give you a full accounting of it later.”

“I noticed the men looked particularly dirty. I thought maybe the new laser drills had broken and they were pickaxing by hand.” He turned his attention to the mountain and frowned.

“No one was hurt,” Arianwen repeated firmly.

Clara remained on the ceffyl, but she was ready to move on past this woman touching her husband. In fact, if the ceffyls path took the beast right over the woman, Clara wouldn’t necessarily be upset by that. She pressed her nails into her palms, digging them in to keep her emotions at bay.

Arianwen suddenly turned toward Clara, as if just now seeing her. She frowned in disapproval. Clara stiffened and lifted her jaw. Arianwen smacked the back of her hand hard against Vlad’s chest. “Boy, what do you think you’re doing? Did you drag this poor creature through the swamps? And the gown! You’re lucky I’ll be able to fix that.”

“Arianwen, this is my wife, Clara,” Vlad said, smiling at Clara as if nothing was amiss. Clara glanced at his chest where the woman had last made contact.

“Lady Clara, please, come inside.” Arianwen gestured that Clara should dismount. “You must forgive our men for their boorish manners. They have absolutely no concept of females when they first marry.” She gave Vlad a stern look and he looked properly chastised. “Come, I have many gowns you can choose from.”

Never in her life had Clara been in such a position. She had absolutely no idea what she was supposed to do. Vlad looked expectantly at her. Arianwen smiled, welcoming. If her mother were here, she’d faint at the very thought of her daughter going into a common household to borrow a gown. But her mother wasn’t here. In fact, neither of her parents were. They had sent her to this planet, banished her to be married to an alien man.

Clara held her arm out to Vlad and he came to help her off the ceffyl. She stood, nervous, before the woman. And then she tried something she’d never really done before. Clara looked the stranger in the eyes and smiled. The gesture felt strange on her lips and she quickly released it into a blank expression. She looked at her husband, wondering at his reaction to the gesture. His face didn’t change as he hooked his elbow around hers. It would seem her effort had gone unnoticed.