Chapter 304: The Ritual Of The Claiming Will Be Held Soon

"I thank you, Elder." Vane’s voice was deep and ringing. "I will speak plainly, since no one else will. We have been waiting two hundred years for this. Two hundred! We have buried our fathers waiting. We have watched our children grow up under the shadow of the curse." He thrust a hand toward the dais. "And now, at last, our kings have found her. Whoever she is. Whatever else may be said. They have found her. I say there is no more to debate. I say the claiming must be done at once. Tomorrow. Today, if the priests are ready."

A roar of approval went up from a dozen throats.

"Hear him!" someone shouted.

"Claim her!"

"Seal the bond!"

"Lady Merrow," said Cedric, with a faint sigh, as a woman in silver silk rose across the aisle.

She was small and elegant, with sharp bright eyes and a smile like a drawn blade. She did not raise her voice. She did not have to. The room leaned in to listen.

"I would not dream of delaying the ritual," said Lady Merrow sweetly. "I am a devoted subject of the crown. But I wonder if my lord Vane has considered the use to which such a power might be put."

"The use?"

"The Mother of Dragons, if she is what the prophecy says, holds the key to three dragon kings." Her smile did not flicker. "Three beings who can burn cities. Who can freeze rivers. Who can call down the dark. It seems to me that such a person should not be left to wander about the palace in a borrowed gown." She turned, gracefully, to the dais. "She should be presented to the realm. Seated on a throne of her own. Surrounded by counsel. Shaped, guided, so that her gifts might serve the kingdom as a whole."

"Guided by whom?" said Kaelen, dangerously.

"By those with the wisdom to do it, my lord."

"Meaning you?" Kaelen asked.

"Meaning the council, of course."

"Of course," said Kaelen.

His hand was white on the hilt of his belt knife.

"Lord Hollis," said Cedric wearily.

A third voice rose.

It came from the very back, from a shadowed corner under the gallery. A lean old lord with a thin white face and a cold, flat eye got slowly to his feet. He did not hurry. He leaned on a stick.

"I speak," said Lord Hollis, "for those of us who remember what the curse is."

The room quieted.

"The dragons are bound to this realm by an ancient bargain. It has made them great. It has made them dangerous. It has also," he said, drily, "made them dependent." His eyes slid to the dais. "They need us. They need our houses, our armies, our gold, our grain. They cannot rule alone. So long as the curse stands, they must come to the council, hat in hand, and ask."

Silence.

"And what happens," said Lord Hollis, "when the curse is lifted?"

Nobody spoke.

"What becomes of the council? What becomes of the great houses? What becomes of us?" His thin voice rang. "I say we have a duty to ask whether a woman of no family, of no name, with strange gifts and a strange history, should be permitted to break a bargain that has kept this realm in balance for two centuries."

"You wish her gone," said Draeven.

"I wish her examined, Majesty."

"By whom?"Draeven asked.

"By those qualified."

"And if she is found wanting?" Draeven asked again.

Hollis’s pale eyes did not blink.

"Then, Majesty," he said, "the realm will be better served without her."

A gasp rolled through the hall.

Someone swore. Someone else shouted shame. From the benches near the front, Vane rose, purple in the face, bellowing. Lady Merrow put a hand to her throat in elegant horror. A dozen men were on their feet, shouting at once, and in the middle of the uproar, Morgana stood quite still.

She saw them.

She saw all three at once, as clearly as if they were painted. The men who wanted to claim her. The ones who wanted to use her. The one who wanted her gone. She saw their faces, red and eager and cold. She saw how many of the others were nodding, hesitating, looking from one side to the other. And she understood, with a quiet and terrible clarity, that there was nothing she could say that would make them stop.

Three groups, Astraea had said. Some will claim her. Some will weaponize her. Some will destroy her.

Not everyone wants you found.

She felt a hand slide into hers.

It was Draeven’s. His fingers closed warm and steady around her own, and she felt his thumb stroke once across her knuckles. He did not look at her. He was gazing out over the hall with a face of grave composure. But the pressure of his hand said it clearly, silent and absolute.

I’m here.

She let out a slow, shaky breath.

"My lords."

Draeven spoke.

It was no more than a murmur, but the whole room felt it. The shouting died, voice by voice, until only the echoes were left. He stepped forward, still holding her hand, and stood at the edge of the dais with the light falling gold across his crown.

"You have each spoken honestly," he said. "I thank you for it."

He looked at Vane.

"Lord Aldous. I share your eagerness. For two hundred years I have waited for what you are asking, and there is no man in this hall who wants it more." He turned. "Lady Merrow. I would be a poor king if I did not recognize the value of counsel. It is the first duty of a throne." His gaze moved on. "Lord Hollis. Your fear is not foolish. It is the fear of a man who loves the order he was born into. I do not despise it."

He paused.

"But hear me," said Draeven.

His voice dropped. It did not rise. It dropped, to a low, even, absolutely certain note, and a sudden warmth spread through the hall, like a hearth fire catching. The torches along the walls leaned toward him. In the high windows, the winter light brightened and went gold.

"The ritual of the claiming will be held," he said. "It will be held soon."