The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) (2 page)

Clara felt a small tremor as he raised his voice. Rarely did her father speak to her thus. She saw his hands tremble with rage and knew she had pushed him too far. “Forgive me, Great Lord, for showing my fear of off-world travel. I do not think myself above our people. I plead with you to find another way. Do not make me go to Qurilixen. Even the name is hard on the tongue.”

“It has been decreed and you have the emperor’s blessing. In less than a month’s time, they will have their yearly marriage ceremony. Four princes and several Draig nobles will be in attendance. I am assured you may have your pick of any one of them. You will arrive when the other potential brides do, but you will be in your own transport. I see no reason for you to travel with the commoners. The Draig king knows of your arrival and arrangements have been made that you only be presented before those of noble birth before the other women have a chance at them. Choose whomever you like. I have it on authority the men will not protest once a lady makes her decision.”

“But they do not decide beforehand who they will marry? They simply choose that night out of a group of women? It is barbaric.”

“It is how they do things. What does it matter? You decided against your suitors with one meeting. The Draig men decide for their suitors in one meeting. And, if they are as barbaric as you have deduced in these few moments of hearing about them, then you should have no problem maintaining control over your spouse. You are a lady. How hard is it to assert authority over a barbarian? So long as he is a nobleman, our laws are satisfied. I am sure you will have your pick, Clara. You have always had a discerning eye and I doubt a primitive man will be able to resist your decree once you decide you will have him. Go. Choose your husband. Your marriage will let your sisters out of stasis. I will have my grandchildren. Live with the barbarian lord for a year and then come home if you wish to have your first child here. Then you will go back, get pregnant again and return. We will raise the children nobly and measures will be taken to ensure they are not barbaric in nature, so rest easy on that account. Once you have given five live births, if you still do not like your primitive husband, manage the problem. But you will marry. Let your sisters have their babies. Let the next generation begin.”

“Five?” Clara took a slow deep breath. The amount still felt like a high number when faced with her current situation, but it was hardly a respectable amount. Perhaps her father believed if he got her to agree to that much, she would then be persuaded later to contribute a more honorable number to the family line.

“Your sisters will gladly have more children to cover where you do not.”

Even the way he said it made her ashamed of herself. The guilt she tried hard to suppress welled up inside her.

“They will be happy they are finally able to bring about the new line.” The great lord paused before quietly adding, “And we are unsure how the blended bloodline will turn out. Best not to have too many.”

She again thought of that maid, screaming and flailing her limbs. Clara nodded once at her father’s expectant look and merely sat.

Nineteen sisters. Eleven brothers. A noble father. A noble mother. They all waited on Clara, the last of the Redding line to find a spouse. She had known as she sent the last suitors away that she took a risk. But how could she marry Lord Camern? He was in love with himself. And Camern’s brother, Lord Dane? Dane was not-so-secretly in love with Clara’s brother.

“And if they do not accept me?” Even as she asked it, Clara didn’t consider it a real possibility. She knew her worth. She was told she was beautiful. She had money. Her family had power. She had refinement. Any man would be lucky to have her. Besides, experience had taught her that noblemen were not so picky when it came to doing their duty of marriage.

Was it wrong that sometimes, in the night when she was alone, she imagined a different kind of marriage? One where talk was not focused around having the next generation?

“Then do not come home.” The threat was clear. If she didn’t do as decreed, she would be exiled. Penniless. Powerless. To come back unmarried would mean death.

One year with a primitive man suddenly didn’t sound so hard. Her father said five children, but she could find a way to stop after three, when the newness of her marriage announcement was forgotten for other gossip. One year off-world. Two well-timed trips back. Three children. Perhaps the barbaric husband wouldn’t be too bad. Perhaps she would find someone refined and willing to learn whatever etiquette he did not already possess. And then there was that tiny hope she dared not dwell on—perhaps she would like this new world, perhaps there she could find something she did not have in her current life.

Clara closed her eyes and slowly nodded. “I will do what you wish, Father. Always as you wish.”

“I will inform the family,” he said, standing quickly. “They will be much relieved to hear of your sensibility. I am sure your mother will wish to shop as she did with your sisters. Stay where you are. I will send her to you.”

“Yes, Father,” Clara answered in the same even tone. “I will do what you wish.”

Clara didn’t move, merely stared at her reflection and the scene surrounding her. She looked like one of the paintings. The room was impeccable, from the large oval frames spaced evenly apart to the golden rail used to hold people back from the wall. Three times a year, people would come to the house to walk through the portrait hall and see the glory of her family.

A family that cannot continue if I do not do this.

Clara felt the sorrow and fear and pushed it deep into the pit of her stomach.

“Joyous daughter! The great lord has told me of your reasoning.” Jaene, the Great Lady of the Redding, looked like an aged version of her unmarried daughter, though the thick cosmetics on her face smoothed the wrinkles and hid the tired lines Clara knew to be there. Though the gemstones on her mother’s gown probably weighed nearly thirty pounds, the woman moved under the burden with ease and grace. “I will mourn your going.”

Clara didn’t think her mother looked too mournful. In fact, her eyes looked relieved, as if finally her duties were finished as she sent the last daughter off. The fact that she didn’t have to plan a wedding celebration on planet was a bonus.

“And I will mourn going,” Clara said, standing. Her own gown was heavy, but not nearly as heavy as the great lady’s. When they faced each other, the full skirts kept them from getting too close.

“No, no, you must not. You must smile and accept your new husband’s home world.” Her mother lifted her wrist to hover before Clara’s eyes in a loving gesture. She saw the thin blue veins, so familiar to her. They were unchanged since Clara’s youth when she and her siblings had been filtered through the hall for the daily greeting of their parents. Without touching her daughter’s perfectly painted face, Jaene let the gesture drop. Clara repeated the movement with her own wrist, holding it before her mother. Decorum dictated they did not touch. The rush of feelings caused by skin contact would become overwhelming to their senses. The smell of their perfume lingered in the air. Then, dropping her hand gracefully to her side, she stood calmly and waited.

“We must prepare you,” Jaene continued. “Come. The seamstresses have been working on the Qurilixen native garb for your trousseau, and your father has requested the cobbler reline your trunk so you may hide jewels and space credits. I will not have my daughter without means.”

The words said more than her mother ever would admit to. Clearly, Clara’s planned nuptials had been in the works for some time if clothes and a new truck lining had been ordered. And, if they worried about her means, that meant they did not think her new home was to be very refined.

A small shiver of fear worked up Clara’s back and her feet would have stumbled if not for the balancing weight of the dress. She followed her mother through the wide doors, not touching the frame or the walls. Only her feet and the brush of her hemline touched the floor. Her steps were short but fast, the tall boots whispering on the hard marble.

Her mother came to a glass and gold enclosure, stepped in and rode the cage up to the fourth floor before sending it down for her daughter. Clara stepped inside, turning to watch the hall disappear under her feet. The enclosed space felt tighter than usual and she began to pant for air. Was it her imagination, or was the cage not moving? Her head began to spin. She blinked, trying to focus her suddenly blurry vision. Her heart pounded, harder and louder than she ever remembered it beating before, not counting her exercise time. She lifted her hands, almost touching the glass before she caught herself and drew them to her waist. The cage stopped moving to let her out, but she couldn’t force herself to walk.

“Clara? Clara!” her mother insisted under her breath behind her.

Clara jolted in surprise and turned to see the woman frowning in disapproval. “Monitor yourself and meet me in the fitting room. I will prepare the seamstresses.”

“Yes, Great Lady,” Clara mouthed more than whispered.

Her mother hurried away to give her daughter privacy to recover.

* * *

Draig Royal Palace, Planet of Qurilixen

In light of his three older brothers’ foul moods, Lord Vladan, Ealdorman Honorary of the Draig, tried to contain his excitement from them. It was difficult. Tonight he would finally join the grooms in search of a bride in what was to be his first, and gods willing,
only
marriage ceremony.

It was possible that, in mere hours, as he stood in the receiving line watching the alien women walk passed him, he would find the one he was destined by the gods to marry. He’d imagined the ceremony many times. He would see her, and with that first glance the crystal hanging from his neck would begin to glow, showing him his destiny. Many husbands claimed to instinctively know who their brides were seconds before the gods’ will was confirmed by the sacred stone. Would he? Would he feel her as if she were part of himself? Anticipation and excitement built within him. He did his duty. He made his offerings. Surely the gods would bless him.

Vlad couldn’t blame his brothers for their lack of enthusiasm. Fate had been harsh to the other three. This wasn’t their first Breeding Festival in search of a wife.

For the eldest of them, Bron, this night marked his seventh attempt at finding a bride. Vlad couldn’t imagine having to wait, and hope, for seven long years. It was no wonder the high duke was in a vile mood. The second oldest, Alek, faced his fifth attempt at finding a mate, and Mirek his fourth. Vlad tried not to let their cynicism get the best of him, even as he was forced to hide his excitement from them. They had every right to be cynical. He just didn’t wish to give up before he had even tried.

Vlad, like every other Draig man, wanted to be blessed with a wife. Women were scarce on their planet due to the blue radiation of the three suns. Over the generations, it had altered the men’s genetics to produce only strong male warriors. Maybe once in a thousand births was a Qurilixian female born. In the old days, the Draig men had used portals to snatch brides from their homelands and bring them back to Qurilixen. Those portals were now lost. There were rumors their people originated on a planet called Earth, a planet populated with more women than men, but there was no remaining proof, only stories.

Still, they were men and men must find their brides somehow. It was their duty to marry and have children, to carry on the family name and the Draig culture. But, more selfishly, they yearned for their other half—a woman to hold and protect, to love and cherish, to experience and enjoy. Without love, life was nothing but endless tasks and battles.

The fact the Draig had next to no women of their own was why the services of bride procurement corporations like Galaxy Brides were so invaluable. In return for the corporation finding and transporting willing women to the planet in hopes of marriage, the Qurilixian would mine valuable metal that was only found in their caves. The metal was a great power source for long voyaging starships, all but useless to the Qurilixian, who preferred living as simply as possible. It was Vlad’s job to oversee the mines, make sure the workers were well cared for, that production stayed on schedule and the needs of all were met. In this task, he worked closely with his brother Lord Mirek, the mining ambassador.

Turning his attention to his uncle, King Llyr of the Draig, Vlad tried to pay heed to the man’s words. He had traveled south with his brothers from their home in the mountains to attend the ceremony. It was the one night a year that darkness fell on the normally bright planet, and the only time men were allowed to marry. Absently, he touched the sacred crystal hanging around his neck. This time tomorrow it could be broken in tiny pieces, sealing his union. On the day he was born, his father had journeyed to Crystal Lake, dove beneath the waves and pulled the stone from the earth. Vlad, like all Draig, had worn the crystal ever since. But it wasn’t just a custom. It was how they received the will of the gods.

“I see not all of you have come with sour hopes,” the king said, grinning at Vlad’s vacant expression.

Vlad chuckled, not bothering to deny his daydreaming. There was no shame in wishing for a life mate. What good was living if a man didn’t have a family?

“It is good to see you boys,” the king continued. They could be three hundred years old and the king would still call them boys. They were younger than the king’s sons by a few years, but not so much that it mattered. “How fares the kingdom in the north?”

“All is well,” Bron answered.

“And the mines?” King Llyr asked.

“Standing,” Vlad said.

“Negotiations?” The king turned his attention to Mirek.

“Slow, but in such there is normalcy,” Mirek said. “I have brought Prince Olek a proposal document from the Lithor Republic. I have done what I can, but they insist on having a member of the royal family for the final negotiations.”

“Good. Good. The queen will be pleased to hear of the progress with the Lithorians.” The king nodded. Then, to the last brother he asked, “And the herd?”