The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

DIANA’S POV

By then the drainage work had been underway for several days.

The first bench arrived before the snow melted from the courtyard.

It came in four pieces.

Diana stood beside Tavia while two Blackharrow craftsmen fitted dark wooden slats over the old stone seat along the southern wall.

One craftsman sat on it.

The other pushed him sideways.

The bench did not move.

”Again,” Tavia said.

The seated craftsman looked offended.

”You watched him do it.”

”I watched him push once.”

Apparently Blackharrow tested benches with the same suspicion Master Clair applied to dragons.

The second craftsman pushed again.

Nothing moved.

Tavia nodded.

”Good.”

Diana wrote: IS THIS NORMAL?

The first craftsman read over her shoulder.

”For Lady Tavia?”

”Yes.”

Tavia looked at him.

He returned immediately to work.

Diana liked the Winter Court more every day.

Nobody had formally named it that.

The household had simply grown tired of referring to it as the old infirmary-adjacent inner household court being converted for family waiting.

The first time Diana heard a servant say, ”Take those boards to the Winter Court,” she looked at Mistress Hale.

The housekeeper had looked equally innocent.

The name stayed.

Diana had not objected.

Blackharrow craftsmen repaired the old drainage channels first.

Then Household Works reopened the two sealed rooms.

One became storage for blankets, children’s toys, extra cups, and emergency household supplies.

The other room was smaller and private, with a table, four chairs, and a door thick enough to close.

Diana had asked for that room before anything decorative.

She remembered too clearly what it had been like watching Rellan families read bad news in a corridor where everyone else could see their faces.

Ward Command inspected the courtyard next.

They approved three low-output heating stones recessed beneath protected grates along the walls. The magical surfaces remained covered, and the planting beds received no direct heating. Technical placement belonged to the Ward officers, and Diana had no reason to argue with that.

The Ward officer explained each restriction.

Diana listened.

Tavia checked whether the resulting heat would reach the benches.

Mistress Hale asked how much maintenance the system required.

The infirmary asked whether the stones could remain active overnight during emergencies.

Everyone brought a different problem.

The courtyard improved because none of them pretended one person understood all of it.

Diana had begun to recognize how much she liked that.

The first plants arrived two days later: wintermint, bitterleaf, and mountain thyme planted where snowmelt would not drown it.

Frostbells remained in their transport boxes until the gardener finished preparing the warmest protected bed.

Diana crouched beside one.

The plant looked unimpressive: dark leaves, a short stem, and one small blue flower.

It was decorative, but it belonged to Blackharrow and apparently intended to stay alive through winter.

Diana approved.

Tavia stood above her.

”You expected more.”

Diana wrote: IT SURVIVES.

”Yes.”

GOOD ENOUGH.

Tavia looked toward Alma.

”She is very difficult to impress.”

Alma said, ”You should see what happens when someone offers her imported flowers.”

Diana stood.

Tavia smiled.

The children’s area caused more disagreement.

Household Works wanted a low carved partition.

Tavia pointed out that children would climb it.

The carpenter said children would climb anything.

Alma agreed.

Diana wrote: THEN MAKE IT SAFE TO CLIMB.

Everyone looked at her.

She waited.

The carpenter considered.

”That is harder.”

YES.

He scratched his beard.

”Possible.”

Better.

A raised wooden section went into one corner, far from the infirmary door, with storage beneath the seating and no sharp edges.

The kitchen donated a low table after Master Harel discovered it had been sitting unused for three years.

One of the household clerks found a box of wooden animals from the family wing.

A dragon was missing one wing.

Diana kept that one.

By the end of the week, the courtyard still looked unfinished.

One wall needed plaster repair.

Two planting beds remained empty.

The sheltered roof section over the northern benches had not been completed because the first design collected snow badly.

Diana rejected the replacement design because it required imported glass no one could repair locally.

Tavia agreed.

”Expensive glass is excellent until the first mountain storm decides it belongs somewhere else.”

Diana wrote: LOCAL.

The craftsman brought a different plan the next morning using Blackharrow iron, treated wood, and small replaceable panes produced in the lower territories.

The replacement design lacked the elegance of imported glass, but every damaged piece could be repaired in Blackharrow.

Diana approved it.

Raigoro visited the Winter Court for the first time shortly before afternoon bell.

He was no longer wearing the rib support, though the Citadel healer had not yet cleared him for full military training.

Diana knew because she had asked the healer rather than Raigoro.

More reliable.

Raigoro stopped beneath the entrance arch and looked around.

He did not say anything for long enough that Diana became suspicious.

She wrote: WHAT?

He glanced toward the slate.

”I am looking.”

AT WHAT?

”The result.”

There was no result yet.

She pointed toward the unfinished wall.

Raigoro looked at it.

”The wall is a wall.”

UNFINISHED.

”Yes.”

He walked farther inside.

A household servant sat on one of the completed benches with an elderly woman waiting for news about her husband’s surgery.

Neither had been moved because the Grand Duke entered.

The old woman bowed from her seat.

Raigoro inclined his head and continued.

He inspected the private room, the children’s corner, the herb beds, the three heating grates, and finally the small report board beside the entrance.

Diana had added that after Rellan.

During emergencies, verified updates could be posted here rather than forcing families to crowd Daric’s desk.

Raigoro touched the edge of it.

”This came from the mine.”

Diana nodded.

”So did the private room.”

Another nod.

”And the benches.”

She pointed toward the elderly woman.

Raigoro understood.

Diana wrote: THE INFIRMARY ALREADY WORKED.

She added: THE WAITING DID NOT.

Raigoro read both lines.

”The Citadel had the problem before you arrived.”

Diana shrugged.

He continued. ”That does not mean anyone had noticed it well enough to fix.”

The sentence sounded uncomfortably similar to what he had said about the Rellan ledgers.

Diana wrote: YOU ARE BECOMING REPETITIVE.

”So are your objections.”

Fair.

Tavia arrived carrying the final planting list and a revised shelter estimate.

She stopped when she saw Raigoro.

”Your Grace.”

”Tavia.”

Tavia handed Raigoro the estimate first.

”Lower Fen timber instead of northern cedar.”

Raigoro looked at the figure.

”Spring allocation?”

”Already committed.”

”Morcant reserve?”

”Enough if the east bridge repair stays under estimate.”

”It won’t.”

”Probably not.”

Four sentences had apparently contained an entire budget conversation.

The old irritation returned.

Tavia understood Blackharrow without needing every missing step explained.

Diana followed the first few sentences and lost the rest somewhere between spring allocation and Morcant reserve.

A month ago, she might have stayed silent and let their easy understanding make her feel like the outsider she already feared she was.

Today she raised her slate.

WHAT DID I MISS?

Both of them looked at her.

Good.

Tavia pointed to the material line.

”Lower Fen can supply the wood locally, but its spring allocation is already committed elsewhere.”

Raigoro added, ”Morcant territory could cover the difference, but only if the eastern bridge repair does not exceed its reserve.”

Diana looked at Tavia.

AND YOU THINK IT WILL.

”Almost certainly.”

Diana took the estimate.

THEN DO NOT BUDGET MONEY WE PROBABLY DO NOT HAVE.

Raigoro looked at Tavia.

Tavia said, ”That was also my conclusion.”

Diana handed the estimate back.

Once they explained the missing steps, the entire problem became ordinary enough to argue with.

Tavia gave Diana the final planting list.

”Frostbells can go in tomorrow.”

Diana checked the quantity.

Too many.

She crossed out a third.

Tavia looked.

”You have space.”

MAINTENANCE.

”Minimal.”

NOT ZERO.

Tavia considered.

Then nodded.

”Fine.”

Raigoro watched them.

Diana looked at him.

”What?”

She had not written anything.

Annoying.

Diana raised the slate.

YOU ARE LOOKING AGAIN.

”Tavia usually wins arguments about plants.”

Tavia said, ”Because most people arguing with me do not make me calculate future gardening labor.”

Diana wrote: YOU ARE WELCOME.

Tavia left with the revised list.

Raigoro walked toward the central path.

”The Winter Court.”

Diana pointed toward herself.

I DID NOT NAME IT.

”I know.”

HOW?

”Mistress Hale told me.”

Traitor.

Raigoro looked around.

”You object?”

Diana considered. The name belonged to Blackharrow rather than Valence, Selena, or even Diana. It described what the place was: a sheltered court made for winter.

She shook her head.

”Good.”

He started toward the entrance.

Diana followed.

At the arch, a young household servant came past carrying folded blankets.

”Where?” Mistress Hale called from the corridor.

”Winter Court storage.”

The servant disappeared into the small room.

Diana stopped.

The words sounded ordinary now.

As though the courtyard had always existed.

Then, a Dragonkeeper appeared beneath the arch before Diana could leave.

”Your Grace. Master Clair asks for you at Vharos’s cavern.”