5.2

Jewel glared at Bathory.

For the last three years Instead of the Countess’ office their private meetings had been happening in the main feasting hall.

It was possible for Jewel to fit into the smaller room. But the length of her coils was less of an issue than the span of her wings.

At greatest extension Jewel’s wings were as far from the furthest tip of each finger as her coils were long from tail tip to nose.

And though she could furl and hold them tightly to her sides, a moment’s inattention or stressful outburst could see them flaring wide and quickly pressing and possibly even cracking the bracing vaults of the ceiling.

It was substantially easier to ensure the feasting hall was empty and closed off than it was to get the necessary labor to repair compromised stone work.

She had gently asked for a chance to speak to the Countess in private as soon as the welcome feasts were done. But she had to wait until the next day to actually have the chance.

But what had been tomorrow was now today and Jewel could pose the question that had been burning in her wyrm flame.

“Why is the High King of Magarska attending my wedding?!”

Elizabeth Bathory, bereft of all guards, with not even her Wizard Jaksa the Red for protection, looked up at Jewel, a Wyrm so large that the danger of holding her in a smaller room risked the integrity of the keep.

The small, still youthful looking woman blithely smiled at a dragon in all her fuming anger with a serenity that assured she felt utterly safe.

And of that Jewel agreed with her. No matter how much she hated the woman.

To slay her now would do nothing but bring grief for Jewel.

Mother’s lessons cut deep when wielded by another and she could see how the Countess was far more learned in intrigue then Jewel.

“I know you are the lady of the season, the betrothed and my heir but really? This is what you demanded a private audience to interrupt my incredibly busy days for?”

Jewel snorted, not with any wyrm flame. That would be a threat too far to risk. But she rumbled ever so slightly.

The countess was unbothered and continued as if her jewelry and the crystals hanging overhead had not rattled.

“The Reason my beautiful heir is because I and High King Mathias Invited Him.”

Jewel huffed out hard enough to blow the woman’s dress back. She felt her flame roil in her throat midway up but not even a spark of light touched her tongue.

“Of course you invited him Elizabeth! I’m not simple, I want to know why!”

Jewel turned away from the knowing grin on the woman's face, whether it was mockery or pride she didn't want to have to see either on the Countess’ face.

She continued with a bit less heat to her tone.

“What reason could possibly make that a good idea!? Magarska has warred over our lands since the fall of the Tyrant.”

The Countess laughed and spoke just as happily as always.

“And we have warred over theirs just as long Jewel. It is as much a great risk for him to come here than it is for us to host him. Even with his thousand knight entourage. To come here this deep into our lands was only possible by vows made by me and the High King himself to maintain his peace and safety. Vows made to seven gods trusted by both our people and his. That is the only reason he is here at all.”

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The wyrm shook her head and snarled. Voice breaking from the restraint she tried to hold so dearly most of the time.

The Countess however had a habit of bringing the more beastly tones out of Jewel whenever they spoke at any length.

“That just makes it worse! Why should we go through all that trouble of a vow to gods to assure his safety when any year now we will be at war again?!”

There was some reason, some sense to it, that was without a doubt. Bathory was going to benefit from this madness. It was going to serve her and maybe Viznove.

Probably not anyone else, but there was something to gain here.

But Jewel could not see it.

And if the High King was also with her on this?

That meant at the very least there were apparent gains for the realm and him as well.

Jewel could not see that either.

But just because she was blind to it did not mean it did not exist.

And that means she had to find out.

Despite how awful the insincerity of all of this made her feel. At last the countess either took pity on her, or grew bored of merely leaving her in suspense. Voice going slightly less jovial than usual.

“My Beautiful Heir, The time where you were a surprise unknown that could strike like a knife in the dark passed four years ago. The blow we made then together was a thing that could only ever happen once. And I spent that treasure the absolute best that I could.”

Jewel refused to meet the Countess’ eyes. She kept her gaze turned away, lashing her tail just close enough to brush the stones of the feasting hall floor. Seeking to ground herself and her temper at the reminder of the war.

The single battle really.

And all it had cost.

These were good stones, they had come to be close and welcome little joys over her visits to Kaeketeh. They knew the river well and because of it seemed a bit more aware of time then others.

Flowing water brought stones to a more wakeful state even at a distance. They knew the wind and water would be their end some day.

And so they lived more in the present.

Bathory continued, apparently having given up trying to prompt Jewel to speak.

“So Now? Now all the realm and lands beyond must be made sure of your power. In this the High King and I agree and we have called witnesses from every land of consequence under vows of truce if necessary. Under the peace of a Wedding and witnessed by all the gods in the heavens we and they risk less in this than any other time.”

The countess walked but Jewel continued to refuse to meet her eye. She stepped as she spoke of the reason that hated enemies would be welcome like brothers. Jewel had read and been told more about the war with Magarska in the last three years than all that was written of the Tyrant Wyrm.

The Shining Wyrm of Viznove flinched, her skin rippling in shivers away from the gentle path of that woman’s hand on the scales of her hip. And then the Countess was leaving, speaking in parting rather than properly dismissing Jewel and their audience.

“There will be tournaments and demonstrations of power Jewel. There will be boasts and great extravagant feasts. I and the high king will have drained considerable wealth in the coming days to show everyone just what you are.”

Jewel still refused to look at the woman but she still could tell there was that infuriating grin in the way she sounded. The Countess could smile with her voice alone.

“So enjoy yourself dear, all you have to do is breathe a bit of that wyrmfire, stand at the right place, vow under the gods of Viznove for your union and spend a night in a bedroom with my son. The rest of us have actual work to do.”

And then Jewel was alone in the feasting hall.

She was long enough to reach the ceiling if she wanted.

She could lick what she had learned was called a chandelier.

She had a demesne of her own.

She was going to be married in another four days. The celebrations and feasts were going to continue for days afterwards.

Soon she would have a husband.

She even had what everyone else called her daughter.

Jewel was supposedly a grown woman by any measure.

But she felt so small and far too young.