The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

DIANA’S POV

Diana had wanted room to breathe.

Blackharrow gave her until breakfast.

She had barely finished eating when Mistress Hale arrived at her apartments with the household steward and a request for Diana to attend council.

Diana checked the steward, Mistress Hale, and finally Alma, in case one of them had misunderstood the word attend.

Apparently not.

Mistress Hale waited.

Diana reached for her slate.

WHY?

”The winter homecoming, Your Grace.”

Diana knew about the gathering. Raigoro had mentioned it before leaving, and the Citadel had been preparing for it since before their arrival.

That did not explain why anyone needed her in a council chamber.

She wrote:

RAIGORO IS NOT HERE.

”That is the difficulty.”

The household steward stepped forward.

”His Grace normally presides over the territorial portion of the gathering. Several officials require audiences with him, military families are expecting the seasonal acknowledgment, and the ruling household formally receives the returning companies.”

All excellent reasons to wait for Raigoro.

Diana wrote:

POSTPONE IT.

The steward glanced at Mistress Hale.

Again.

Diana was beginning to dislike that glance.

”There are members of the household council who agree with Your Grace,” he said.

Members who agreed meant there were members who did not.

”And the formal presentation of the new Grand Duchess was added after His Grace returned from Valence,” Mistress Hale said. ”That portion cannot be decided without you.”

Diana stared at the slate.

There were hundreds of strangers inside Blackharrow. Some had traveled between kingdoms or attended Southern courts. One of them might have seen Selena at a distance.

One might even have spoken to her.

Diana had spent the previous night deciding that Raigoro’s absence contained one advantage. Without him studying every hesitation, she could remain in her rooms, learn the Citadel slowly, and give Blackharrow as few opportunities as possible to discover what Odran had done.

A formal presentation to half the territory did not fit that plan.

She wrote more firmly:

POSTPONE THAT TOO.

The steward looked genuinely uncomfortable now.

Mistress Hale rescued him.

”The council has not reached agreement.”

Diana pointed toward the steward.

HE CAN DECIDE.

”I cannot,” he said.

Daric, then.

Diana wrote his name.

The steward shook his head. ”Commander Voss has authority over your security and the Citadel’s military protection while His Grace is absent. He does not govern the domestic or territorial household.”

Blackharrow had apparently developed enough divisions of authority to ensure no convenient man could rescue Diana from this one.

Mistress Hale said, ”The council requests Your Grace’s attendance before any recommendation is finalized.”

Requests was an interesting word for something everyone in the room clearly expected her to do.

Diana looked at Alma.

Alma gave her the careful expression she used whenever Diana was deciding whether running away would solve a problem.

It probably would not.

Diana wrote:

DO THEY NEED ME TO LISTEN OR DECIDE?

The steward answered honestly.

”Both, Your Grace.”

That was worse.

Diana lowered the slate.

Selena could have done this.

The thought arrived with irritating ease.

Selena had spent years sitting beside Odran at formal dinners, receiving foreign delegations, remembering noble families, learning which prince had offended which kingdom and which smile meant a courtier intended to ask for money.

Diana had watched much of it from balconies, passageways, and the wrong side of screens.

Watching did not make her trained.

Selena knew how to enter a room expecting attention.

Diana knew how to leave before anyone noticed she had been there.

Mistress Hale mistook her hesitation for another question.

”The council chamber is on Government Terrace. We can delay several minutes if Your Grace wishes to prepare.”

Several minutes.

Generous.

Diana wrote:

HOW MANY PEOPLE?

”In council?”

Diana nodded.

”Seven today.”

Seven was better than hundreds.

”Not including clerks. Four clerks.”

Eleven.

Alma said, ”You forgot me.”

”Twelve,” Mistress Hale corrected.

Diana considered returning to bed.

Alma came beside her once the two household officers stepped away to wait near the outer door.

”You can refuse.”

Diana looked at her.

Could she?

Probably.

Raigoro had given her domestic authority. He had also made it clear that he would not force personal obedience merely because the marriage gave him power over her.

Blackharrow might allow its Grand Duchess to refuse a council meeting.

Selena Valence would not.

Diana took the slate.

SELENA WOULD KNOW WHAT TO DO.

Alma read the words.

”She might know what they expect her to do.”

That was not the same thing.

Diana waited.

Alma did not add that Diana would do better. She had known Diana too long to offer encouragement neither of them believed.

Instead she said, ”You know how to listen.”

Diana stared at her.

Listening was considerably easier when nobody expected an answer afterward.

Alma’s mouth moved.

Diana pointed the chalk at her.

”I’m not laughing.”

She was close.

Diana wiped the slate clean and stood.

Mistress Hale opened the door.

The walk to Government Terrace was longer than Diana remembered.

Servants bowed when she passed.

”Your Grace.”

A clerk carrying two ledgers stepped aside.

”Your Grace.”

At the crossing above the inner court, a family Diana had never seen before was being escorted toward the guest wing.

The man at their head bowed. His wife followed. Their eldest daughter stared at Diana with open curiosity until her mother touched her shoulder.

Diana kept walking.

Did they know Selena?

There was no reason to think so.

That had stopped being useful reassurance somewhere around the western bridge.

Another group was coming up from the lower court. An older man wore a military clasp on his coat. The woman beside him was dressed in mourning black.

Third Watch?

Diana could not tell.

She lowered her face slightly and continued beside Mistress Hale.

Government Terrace had been quieter when Diana passed through it yesterday. This morning, clerks moved between offices with folders tucked against their sides, and messengers waited near a central desk for sealed instructions.

Mistress Hale stopped before a pair of dark wooden doors.

Voices carried from inside.

Diana stopped too.

Nobody else did.

The household steward had already reached for the handle when he noticed she was no longer beside him.

”Your Grace?”

Twelve people waited beyond those doors for a woman who had never attended a council, did not understand the gathering, and was pretending to be Selena Valence. And if the meeting moved too quickly for her chalk, Diana could not simply interrupt.

Alma came to stand beside her.

Diana wrote:

IF I DO SOMETHING WRONG, TELL ME.

Alma read it.

”During the council?”

Diana nodded.

”That sounds dangerous.”

Diana looked at her.

Alma added, ”For me.”

Good. She understood.

Then, more quietly, ”I will.”

Diana took back the slate.

Mistress Hale opened the doors.

Everyone inside stood.

That was somehow worse than if they had ignored her.

The council chamber was smaller than Diana expected. A long table occupied most of it, with windows overlooking the lower court and shelves filled with household registers along one wall.

Raigoro’s chair stood at the far end beneath a carved black dragon.

Empty.

A second chair had been prepared to its right.

For her.

Diana had seen Selena sit beside Odran often enough to recognize the arrangement.

She crossed the room.

No one spoke until she sat.

Then everyone followed.

Mistress Hale took the chair nearest Diana. The household steward sat opposite her. The keeper of guest quarters, kitchen master, ceremonial officer, and two territorial officers filled the remaining places.

Four clerks sat along the wall with writing boards.

Alma remained behind Diana.

The household steward opened the first document.

”Thank you for joining us, Your Grace.”

Diana nodded.

”The question before us is whether tomorrow’s formal assembly should be postponed now, or whether preparations should continue until High Ward Command confirms His Grace’s return.”

The ceremonial officer answered before Diana finished reading the first page.

”If postponement is necessary, territorial households should be informed before tonight.”

The guest keeper disagreed.

”Most of those households are already inside the Citadel.”

”The remaining delegations are not.”

”And sending notices now may prove unnecessary if His Grace returns tomorrow.”

”Waiting leaves the household less time to reorganize if he does not.”

The kitchen master looked up from his ledger.

”The kitchens are continuing either way until someone tells me otherwise.”

”This is not a kitchen decision.”

”Then stop asking the kitchens to prepare for two possible decisions at once.”

Another official began speaking about military acknowledgment.

Someone else interrupted with territorial audiences.

Diana looked down at her slate.

She had written:

DO WE KNOW

The conversation had already moved on.

She erased it and tried again.

By the time she finished the question, the ceremonial officer was arguing about notices.

No one was deliberately refusing her. They simply spoke faster than she could enter the conversation.

Diana looked toward Alma.

Alma had noticed.

Her mouth opened.

Diana gave a small shake of her head.

If every sentence Diana wanted to contribute required Alma to announce that Her Grace wished to speak, Alma would become the person carrying authority into the room.

Diana had spent enough of her life having other people speak for her.

A small brass seal weight rested beside the documents.

Diana picked it up and tapped it once against the table.

The sound was not loud.

The room stopped.

All faces turned toward Diana.

She immediately missed being ignored.

Diana raised the slate.

DO WE KNOW HE WILL NOT RETURN TOMORROW?

The steward answered.

”No, Your Grace.”

WHEN WILL WE KNOW?

”High Ward Command expects a field dispatch before midday.”

Diana looked at the papers recommending postponement.

Then wrote:

WHAT DO WE LOSE BY WAITING FOR IT?

The ceremonial officer considered.

”Several hours.”

Diana waited.

”Nothing that cannot still be changed this afternoon.”

Then why were they deciding now?

Diana turned the slate.

WAIT FOR THE REPORT.

The steward read it.

”Continue preparations until we have confirmed information?”

Diana nodded.

One official looked ready to object, but the ceremonial officer closed the postponement file.

”That is defensible.”

Diana had apparently survived her first council decision by asking everyone to wait for better information.

Government might have some uses after all.

The steward had barely begun gathering the papers when a knock sounded at the council doors.

A military courier entered with snow melting across his shoulders.

”Report from High Ward Command.”

Silence settled over the room again.

The steward broke the outer seal and read.

His expression changed.

Diana’s relief disappeared before he spoke.

”The missing patrol has been recovered. All twelve are alive.”

Good.

”The beacons themselves are not the primary failure.”

He continued.

”The outer ward has weakened across two sections. His Grace has withdrawn the patrol and established a temporary line on stronger ground.”

Diana looked toward Raigoro’s empty chair.

”His Grace does not expect to return before the morning three days hence.”

Tomorrow’s formal assembly would happen without him.

The decision Diana had postponed for a few hours had returned with its easiest answer removed.