The Reluctant Lord (Dragon Lords) (4 page)

She heard laughter coming from outside the tent moments before her potential husbands began to filter into the room. She saw their movements but did not look directly at them. As she moved forward to meet the king halfway across the tent, she listened to his greeting.

“Lady Clara, I hope your stay has been comfortable and the special arrangements that have been made on your behalf are to your satisfaction.”

She glanced down to the floor to where she’d had Eula unroll the material bolts. There was no reason to be rude. “Yes, King Llyr. I thank you for the hospitality.” Then, turning her attention to the man standing directly behind him, she waited expectantly.

“My oldest son, Prince Ualan,” the king said.

Ualan was a barbaric-looking man, naked but for a fur loincloth wrapped about his waist. Clara wasn’t sure how to react to such attire. She tried not to look at his chest, or stomach, or legs, or shoulders and arms, but it was nearly impossible to gaze in his direction without seeing some bit of indecently exposed flesh. Oddly, the one place she could look without being impolite was his face—which he had half covered from view by a mask. Both the king and the prince glanced at Ualan’s chest. Clara had been told how their ceremony worked, but she half expected the glowing crystal necklace to be a metaphor for attraction, not an actual crystal hanging about their neck.

Ualan looked back up to her, nodded once and said, “I wish you well in your journeys, my lady.” With that, he moved to leave the tent, allowing the next in line to be presented to her.

That was it? No glow so no marriage? The man hadn’t even asked her a question or engaged in polite conversation. He’d just looked at her, looked at his crystal and then decided.

Clara felt a tiny thread of fear work its way into her. The next prince stepped forward, Prince Olek. He stared at her wig, not bothering to look at his chest. She eyed the crystal, willing it to have a reaction. Nothing happened. He then took his leave as quickly as his brother had.

Worry knotted her stomach. She wasn’t sure what she would do if none of them wanted her. Should she have worn the traditional gown? Disgraced herself to attract them with flesh? The king had said there were eight nobles. That meant she had six left.

Prince Yusef gave her an easy smile that shone in his eyes. The look was probably meant to put her at ease, but it only made her worry more. She wondered what emotion her face gave away. As a child she’d been scolded for her expressive eyes. Did her desperation show? Did they know how badly she needed one of them to like her? To want her? She couldn’t return home unmarried. Her father had made sure to point that fact out several times before her departure. Indeed, it had been the last thing he’d said to her.

As Prince Yusef stepped aside, Prince Zoran came forward. He was a man of beastly proportions whose stoic face should have brought her some comfort. Unfortunately, she couldn’t get past his towering height or the thick breadth of his body to let go of her captured breath. When his crystal didn’t glow, it was with relief that she watched him leave.

She was halfway through the men with no indication that any of them would change their mind and want her for a wife. She’d prepared herself for conversation or questions, but found instead the efficient soldiering of men being marched past her like an object to be inspected and disregarded.

“These are my nephews,” the king said, drawing her attention to the last four men. “Lord Bronislaw, High Duke of the Draig.” The man bowed his head, said something and stepped away without a glowing crystal. “Lord Aleksej, Younger Duke of Draig.” Aleksej eyed her head much as Prince Olek had. Surely Eula would have told her if her hair was out of place. Aleksej’s crystal also did not change.

This could not be happening. Clara knew her worth. She was pretty. She was rich. She was titled. Why didn’t these barbarians see her good breeding and worth? They should all want a bride such as her. They should be trying to win her affections. She worked so hard to be perfect.

“Lord Mirek, Ealdorman of Draig.” She barely heard the king’s introduction. Her mind raced and became more frantic by each passing moment. What would she do if they sent her home?

“I,” she began to speak to the unimpressed Mirek, but the word was weak. She continued silently,
I can put on the gown and we can begin anew. I am a lady. I can manage a household. I am of breedable years. I come from money. Won’t you consider me? Won’t you let me prove my worth? Won’t you marry me? I should not have been so proud. I should have married Lord Dane. Why did I think his attraction to my brother should matter? Marriage is not about emotions.

Take me, please, my lord, or they will kill me.

The full depth of her foolishness hit her as Mirek stepped aside. How vain she had been to turn away so many suitors. Did she really think her father would wait for her to marry out of love? Did she think he would let her out of her duty should she refuse enough men?

“We have a match!” the king exclaimed, sounding surprised.

Clara blinked, pulled from her thoughts to the soft pulsating light before her. A crystal glowed. The last man was a match. She’d been so frantic, she hadn’t heard his name. Her relief was short lived as a new fear worked its way into her. This meant she was staying on the primitive planet. This place was her new home. Her eyes instantly moved from the glowing crystal to the face of her future husband. He hadn’t spoken, still did not speak.

She saw the brown-blond waves of his hair held down by the ties of his mask. Hazel eyes watched her intently. No one she knew had eyes that color. His mouth lifted at the corner.

Clara felt the eyes of the men on her. Her intended’s expression was hidden by the mask, but she saw the intensity in his gaze. He lifted his hand as if he would touch her. Instantly, she stepped back, bowing her head to acknowledge him. Then, unsure how to react to the freely shown expressions and the growing murmur of voices, she quickly turned and went back to her dressing room.

“It seems you have been blessed, little brother,” a man said. “An unusual blessing at that.”

“Do not tease him,” another scolded. “The will of the gods cannot be questioned. Many blessings on your house, cousin.”

“Many blessings,” another repeated.

Clara blocked them out, not wanting to listen. A husband. She was to be married. Finally, at last, the next generation could begin.

“And life as I know it will end,” she whispered. “This cannot be happening.”

* * *

“The will of the gods cannot be questioned,” Yusef said, quieting Mirek’s teasing though he smiled as he said it. “Many blessings on your house, cousin.”

“Many blessings,” Ualan agreed.

“Many blessings,” Olek and Alek said in unison. Their well-wishes were followed by the rest.

The men pulled their masks from their faces, all but Vlad who was near his future bride and would not risk breaking tradition by letting her see his face until she deemed it was time. He grinned. “Thank you.”

“I did not think it would happen,” the king said. He glanced to where the woman had disappeared and motioned the men to go outside. When they were farther from her earshot, he continued, “She is here as a favor to an old friend. Do not fear, though she does not look as we do, she is from a noble family with an impeccable reputation in the galaxy. They even sent the kingdom a rather sizeable gift for allowing her to come.”

“A gift? How strange,” Ualan put forth.

“To return it would be rude,” the king said. “Since Vlad is to marry her, I will have the servants see to it the gift is taken to his home.” Then to Vlad, he added, “It is a fine match for many reasons, nephew. You will be very blessed by the gods.”

“Did you see her hair?” Alek whispered. “It’s well over an arm’s length above her head. Do you think her skull is shaped the same beneath?”

Vlad frowned at him. Bron slapped his brother in the chest, shutting him up.

“I’m sure it is just her custom,” Mirek explained in an effort to comfort Vlad. “I have seen stranger fashions when dealing with alien species.”

“Do you think our nephews will have…?” Alek gestured his hand along his temple and lifted it up high over his head to indicate the shape of Clara’s presumably tall skull.

“Enough. Let us leave Vlad to his bride,” Ualan said. The king nodded in agreement, motioning for the men to make their way toward the valley below. When he was alone with his nephew, he said, “Vlad, I know she does not look as we are used to women appearing, but I am sure the blue-whiteness of her skin is paint and the hair is simply a style. Her servant does not appear misshapen in such a way. Many planets have customs unlike ours. Besides, when she is your wife she will take on the customs of our home world. All will be well.”

Vlad refused to comment, but he honestly did not see what everyone was so concerned about. He’d been enraptured by the clear perfection of her purple eyes. They were unlike any he’d ever seen—pure and deep. The lack of expression on her face could have been due to many things—the overwhelming reality of a new world, tiredness from a long trip, bridal nervousness. All of the concerns his family had could be fixed with a deep sleep, hot bath and reassurances of his devotion—all of which he could easily provide for her.

“I am sorry you will not be able to partake in the ceremonies, but this is a blessed day for you. I hope my sons will be so lucky.” The king patted his shoulder before moving to go. “You should go with the others to give thanks for the blessing and then come back here for your bride. If she is willing, bring her to your tent below. If she will not go, stay with her here to complete the ceremony and have servants bring anything you may need. Either way, it is a blessing.” The king glanced to the tent where Lady Clara remained. As dragon shifters they could hear very well, and inside the tent was silent. “On further thought, she does not appear as if she would fit in with the other brides. It may be best if she does not go down at all. I will explain my decision to the elders, that I have given permission for Lady Clara to be kept inside this specially constructed bridal tent with her new husband until the ceremony is completed in the morning. They will make allowances for you on this night and will not expect her to come down in the morning for the declaration. We will come to you before we receive the others. It will be early, so be ready.”

Vlad nodded once. His uncle seemed nervous, overly explaining what to Vlad was quite a simple matter. His crystal glowed. Clara was meant to be his wife. His dreams were coming true. The rest were just details.

Vlad wanted to go to her. He wanted to peel the thick layers of her strange gown from her body to see what lay beneath. He wanted to gaze into those brilliantly colored eyes. Tonight, the wedding night, was a night of pure discovery. They would not consummate the marriage, but tradition allowed that they could do everything but. After she removed his mask, he would be free to talk to her. Before she removed the mask, he’d be free to communicate without words.

“I go to the temple,” Vlad said, his voice hoarse. The sound was strange, even to his own ears.

“Many blessings,” the king said, following him away from the tent.

* * *

“Your noble father will be pleased,” Eula said evenly. She smiled. It was a serene look, but Clara saw the emotion filter into the woman’s eyes. “The next generation of your family can begin. You are lucky. There will be no stasis for you. You can begin your family immediately.”

Clara moved a hand to her stomach. Immediately? She barely knew the barbarian and she was supposed to give him children? Of course, this was the way of things. This is what she had planned all along—a child within the first year. Her logical brain knew it. Too bad her rapidly beating heart didn’t seem to understand it.

Her intended was nicely built like the others. Granted, they were the first half-naked primitives she’d ever seen, and she assumed that is what a nicely built man looked like. Everything about these people was so…unguarded.

“You are very lucky. My two younger sisters still have to find their husbands,” Eula continued. She lightly touched her stomach. “I fear there may be no hope for them.”

Clara blinked, looking at Eula’s hand. “You’re carrying?”

Eula nodded. “Yes. I go into stasis when I arrive home.”

She didn’t need to see the woman’s expression to know she was frightened. The very fact she mentioned her pregnancy meant the upcoming sleep was on her mind. Clara hovered her hand over Eula’s. “I was with my sisters. The process was very peaceful.”

Eula nodded. “Of course.”

“What is it?” Clara whispered.

“Husbands do not sleep.”

The answer was simple, but it said much. Yet, strangely, Clara had never considered the husbands. What would it be like to go to sleep, knowing your husband was left alone? Would he find company with other women? How many years would he age? Would he be the man you knew going in to stasis? Or would decades pass and you would awake to a stranger. There was a reason they pushed generations to marry quickly so that didn’t happen, but Clara was proof that siblings did not always cooperate. Seeing Eula’s expression caused her a degree of guilt she hadn’t felt before.

“Do you require that I stay?” Eula asked.

Clara shook her head in denial. “No. This is where I belong. Your husband will be waiting to fly you back. I will interrupt your life no more.”

Eula nodded. “Would you like me to deliver a message to your lady mother?”

“Tell her I have done my duty. Tell her the next generation can begin.” Clara wanted to say more. She wanted to be home. She wanted to beg her mother to send for her, to not abandon her here. She wanted to see the thin veins in her mother’s wrist, the brief show of affection allowed her. None of those things would happen. Eula would leave and Clara would be left alone on this planet.

“Your message will be delivered,” Eula said. “Honor to your union, Lady Clara.”

“Honor to your family,” Clara answered as the woman left.

Alone in the tent, Clara simply stood in the middle of the room. She focused on her breathing, counting the seconds as they passed. When she lost count, she simply started again. It was an old trick, one she’d started as a young girl to keep calm. She imagined she heard her ship take off. She counted faster.