The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

DIANA’S POV

By the second morning of the full Muster, Diana could tell several of the dragons apart from the covered passage.

Three long tables had appeared beside the lower roost yard, where clerks recorded Dragon Host assignments, medical findings, equipment repairs, and feeding allocations while the creatures themselves behaved as though none of the paperwork concerned them.

The pale female on the western perch slept through most of her inspection. The young red-brown dragon beside her objected to anyone touching his harness and appeared to consider patches of slush a personal insult.

Diana had stopped watching only for teeth and fire. She had begun noticing which keepers each dragon tolerated, when an officer gave way to a Dragonkeeper, and how quickly everyone moved when an irritated tail changed position.

She was still watching a keeper negotiate with the red-brown dragon when a household clerk hurried along the viewing passage.

”Your Grace.”

Diana turned.

”A representative from the Morcant household requests a decision concerning the lower east household court.”

That sounded more like the household papers she understood.

Diana followed him down from the Dragon Heights viewing level toward the household terraces.

The lower east household court lay beneath Government Terrace, between the guest-wing service access and an adjoining military supply route serving the Dragon Heights. During ordinary weeks, household wagons used the western side while military carts passed beneath the separate arch.

Nothing about this week was ordinary.

Harness frames filled half the military route.

Feed wagons occupied the other half.

A woman stood beside a stack of transport manifests talking to Mistress Hale.

She looked to be near Diana’s age, perhaps a few years older. Her coat was dark green wool cut for riding rather than ceremony. No decorative train. No jeweled collar. Her gloves had ink along two fingertips.

She bowed when Diana approached.

”Your Grace. Lady Tavia Morcant.”

Diana recognized the family name.

The Morcant household had traveled five days for the winter homecoming. They controlled territory along one of Blackharrow’s eastern transport routes.

Tavia indicated the court below.

”The Muster quartermaster needs this passage for harness wagons between noon and sunset. Mistress Hale says the household uses the same court for guest deliveries.”

Mistress Hale nodded.

”We can reroute household wagons through the western passage, but the turn is narrow. Larger carts would have to unload at the lower court.”

Tavia did not argue.

”That would still be safer than sending harness frames through arriving guest traffic.”

Beyond the arch, a transport wagon already waited with enough leather and metal to equip something much larger than a horse.

She wrote:

HOW MANY HOUSEHOLD DELIVERIES TODAY?

Mistress Hale checked the smaller ledger she carried.

”Seven expected. Two are large.”

CAN THEY COME TOMORROW?

”One can. The other is kitchen grain.”

”Military traffic clears after sunset,” Tavia said. ”The grain cart could use the main court after sixth bell if the kitchen can accept it that late.”

Diana wrote:

ASK HAREL.

Mistress Hale sent the clerk.

They waited.

Tavia did not fill the waiting time with questions about Valence, Diana’s marriage, Southern fashion, or whether she liked Blackharrow.

Diana found the lack of curiosity almost suspicious.

The clerk returned several minutes later.

”Master Harel says sixth bell is fine if someone warns the gate before the wagon arrives.”

Diana wrote:

THEN USE THE COURT FOR THE MUSTER.

Tavia read the slate.

”Thank you, Your Grace.”

She turned to the quartermaster standing below.

”The lower east household court is yours until sixth bell. Keep the upper household stair clear.”

The man nodded and immediately began redirecting wagons.

That was it.

No surprise that Diana had understood.

No praise for choosing correctly.

Tavia had brought her a practical problem, received a practical answer, and moved on to the next problem.

Diana liked her slightly for that.

Which became inconvenient an hour later.

Tavia remained around the Muster courts because the Morcant territories supplied winter transport teams to several Dragon Host sectors.

She knew the keepers.

She knew which road had delayed one northern company.

She knew why a harness shipment from the eastern district had arrived short by six buckles.

A Morcant messenger caught Tavia before she reached the next court.

He carried no military seal. The folded note bore the green Morcant mark.

Tavia opened it while walking, then stopped.

”When?”

”Before dawn, my lady.”

”Both supports?”

”The eastern one is still holding. The bridge keeper closed the crossing before the grain wagons reached it.”

Tavia looked toward the messenger.

”How much flour does Hollow Ridge have?”

”Three days, perhaps four.”

”And the mill settlements?”

”More.”

Tavia pulled a pencil from the transport table and wrote directly on the back of the message.

”Send the Hollow Ridge grain by the south track. One wagon at a time over the narrow crossing. Put two carpentry crews on the bridge before noon.”

”The Muster quartermaster requested those teams.”

”He requested transport horses. He did not request every carpenter in Morcant territory.”

The messenger took the note.

”Yes, my lady.”

”If the eastern support moves another finger-width, close the bridge completely.”

He left.

Tavia returned to the Muster ledger without looking toward Raigoro.

Diana watched her differently after that.

Tavia’s usefulness did not begin when she entered Blackharrow or end when Raigoro stopped needing an answer. Somewhere east of the Citadel, people were waiting for her to decide whether grain crossed a damaged bridge.

Later, Diana and Alma crossed an upper gallery above the feeding court while servants carried hot drinks toward the officials working outside.

Two older nobles stood near the window ahead.

Diana would have passed without listening if one of them had not said Raigoro’s name.

”Morcant would have been simpler.”

The second man gave a short laugh.

”Raigoro has never chosen anything because it was simpler.”

”The council expected her eventually.”

”Some of the council expected it. That is not the same thing.”

Diana slowed.

Alma heard it too.

The first man continued.

”Tavia was the sensible possibility. Old house. Eastern support. No foreign complications.”

”No covenant either.”

”That was before the Third Watch.”

Diana kept walking before either man noticed her.

They bowed when she passed.

”Your Grace.”

She inclined her head.

Alma said nothing until they reached the next staircase.

Then, quietly, ”Do you want me to tell you they are old men and therefore wrong about everything?”

Diana gave her a look.

”That would be dishonest.”

Yes.

Alma had improved.

Unfortunately.

The men were not describing a lost romance. They were describing a marriage that would have made political sense.

Tavia knew Blackharrow.

Raigoro knew Tavia.

That afternoon Diana saw Tavia beside Raigoro at a route board. They spoke with the easy shorthand of people who had solved the same kinds of problems before.

Diana could not follow enough of the discussion to know who was right.

She understood the familiarity.

Tavia knew dragon harness marks and winter roads.

She could stand beside a military map without a guard telling her the corridor was restricted because she belonged to the work happening there.

Diana knew how to move one injured soldier’s mother into an empty room. It had been useful, and it had been hers. It still felt very small beside this.

Tavia looked like someone who could have stood beside Raigoro without anyone needing to alter a wedding dress around her body first.

The thought annoyed Diana enough that she stopped watching them.

Her marriage existed because Odran had lied and Raigoro had collected a debt.

Who Blackharrow once considered a sensible wife for him should not matter to her.

It apparently mattered enough to make her leave the gallery early.

Alma noticed.

Naturally.

For once, she was wise enough not to say anything.

They had almost reached the covered passage toward the Inner Keep when a low call rolled across the Muster yard.

Diana stopped.

She knew that sound.

Meris stood on the far landing terrace beside Captain Veyr.

The gray dragon had been facing the opposite direction.

Now her head was turned toward Diana.

Captain Veyr gave a command.

Meris did not move.

Across the yard, the dragon kept looking at her.