The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

DIANA’S POV

Blackharrow bowed to Selena Valence because Raigoro Kael had brought her through the gates as his wife.

Diana knew better than to mistake that for welcome.

Mistress Hale, Blackharrow’s senior housekeeper, waited with Diana and Alma at the first stair while three officers crowded Raigoro with reports.

Before Diana followed the housekeeper, Eren’s medical wagon turned toward the lower military access leading to the Citadel infirmary. The healer walked beside it.

”The boy is going to the infirmary,” Raigoro said.

Diana nodded.

”His healer will send word when he is settled.”

That answered the question she had not asked.

”You have traveled fifteen days,” Raigoro told her. ”Rest before anyone decides you require ceremony.”

That sounded less like permission than an instruction aimed at the household.

Mistress Hale took it that way.

”Of course, Your Grace.”

She led Diana and Alma upward through the household levels. The wagon courts and returning soldiers fell farther below with each stair. By the time they reached the Inner Keep, household clerks were checking staff and room assignments, servants crossed the secure passages, and the corridors had grown quieter around them.

Two soldiers of the Household Guard, both wearing the black dragon seal, stood outside the Grand Duchess’s apartments.

Both bowed.

”Your Grace.”

They opened the doors.

The Grand Duchess’s apartments were warm enough that Diana stopped expecting to find frost around the windows. They were large but built for use rather than display: dark wood, heavy curtains, thick rugs, and rooms that held their heat. A sitting room opened toward smaller private chambers and the bedchamber beyond.

What caught Diana’s attention first was the low table.

Fresh chalk, paper, ink, sealing wax, and several blank slates had already been arranged there.

”His Grace ordered writing materials placed anywhere you might reasonably require them,” Mistress Hale said.

Diana touched the edge of one slate.

No one had waited for her to ask or required her to explain why she needed them. The materials were simply there.

Alma was watching her.

Diana refused to give her the satisfaction of a reaction. The last thing Alma needed was encouragement.

Mistress Hale continued explaining staff assignments as Diana entered the bedroom, but Diana stopped listening when she saw the bed.

It occupied the center of the far wall under a carved wooden canopy. Fresh linen covered it, and two sets of pillows had been arranged against the headboard.

Diana counted the pillows twice, as though Blackharrow might reconsider between one number and the next.

Alma came to stand beside her.

During fifteen days on the road, they had discussed weather, murder attempts, clothes, dragons, and whether Eren possessed enough sense to remain in a medical wagon. Somehow the marriage bed had never made the list. Reaching Blackharrow alive had seemed more urgent.

The housekeeper entered behind them.

”If the mattress is too firm, we can have another brought.”

Firmness was not the difficulty.

Alma answered before Diana had to.

”This will be fine.”

”Good. Your attendant may remain with you. A room has already been prepared for Alma in the attendant passage.”

The housekeeper showed Diana the wardrobe.

Several dresses had already been prepared from the measurements sent ahead from the border station. One side of the wardrobe remained empty for future fittings.

Diana closed the door before Blackharrow’s efficiency could become more threatening.

The housekeeper continued.

”Your household allowance begins from the date of the marriage. The steward will bring your accounts tomorrow. You may retain your own personal staff and appoint additional attendants from the approved household rolls.”

Diana turned. Her own personal staff?

The housekeeper had already moved to the next subject.

”Meals may be taken privately unless your presence is required at a formal table. Ordinary household areas are open to you. His Grace will explain the Citadel’s restricted sections himself.”

Diana accepted that answer.

Apparently Blackharrow divided its doors almost as carefully as it divided everything else.

When the housekeeper finally left, Alma shut the door and leaned against it. Her attention drifted toward the bedroom before returning to Diana. ”We have survived ash hounds, a collapsing pass, and your husband purchasing half a clothing market.”

Diana waited for the inevitable conclusion.

Alma lowered her voice. ”I find the bed more concerning.”

Diana picked up a cushion from the nearest chair.

Alma moved. ”You have become predictable.”

Diana returned the cushion to the chair.

That was insulting.

A knock came before she could decide whether to prove Alma wrong.

Two servants entered carrying food, followed by a clerk with the promised report on Eren.

The boy had arrived at the infirmary without renewed bleeding. His leg remained stable. The healer wanted him kept there overnight.

Diana wrote:

THANK YOU.

The clerk bowed and left.

No one asked why the Grand Duchess cared about a page.

The servants placed dinner on the small table and went out.

”You need to eat,” Alma said.

Diana’s attention betrayed her by returning to the bedroom.

”Eating first will not make the bed larger.”

Diana sat down.

The food was unfamiliar but good. Thick stew, dark bread, roasted root vegetables, and a small dish of preserved fruit.

Diana ate enough to stop Alma watching her plate.

They had barely finished when another knock came.

This time Raigoro entered.

The two guards remained outside.

He had changed out of his road armor, though he still wore black rather than anything Diana would have called court clothing. Clean clothes did not make him less Raigoro. He looked as though formal embroidery would have lost the argument.

Alma stood.

A household servant who had entered with Raigoro said, ”His Grace requires a private audience with the Duchess.”

Alma waited for Diana’s answer.

Diana’s traitorous attention went to the bedroom before she could stop it.

Raigoro noticed.

”Stay,” he told Alma.

The servant paused.

”Your Grace?”

”She stays.”

”Yes, Your Grace.”

The servant left.

Raigoro remained near the sitting-room table rather than taking the chair beside Diana.

”I have several things to make clear before the household begins inventing answers for you.”

Diana took her slate.

He noticed the movement and continued.

”These apartments are yours. The staff assigned here answer to the household steward and to you within your domestic authority. You have an allowance appropriate to your rank. If the amount proves insufficient, tell the steward.”

Diana almost wrote something about the two trunks already provided because of him.

She decided against it.

His provisioning instincts did not require encouragement.

”You may use the occupied household sections of the Citadel,” he continued. ”You may visit the infirmary, kitchens, family halls, guest wings, courtyards, and the administrative archive.”

Diana wrote:

AND THE REST?

”The areas the housekeeper probably warned you about.”

She waited.

”War council chambers. Command communications. Intelligence records. Classified ward rooms. The restricted covenant archive.”

His list continued.

”The secured military passages and Vharos’s cavern.”

Diana’s chalk stopped at the name.

Vharos.

Raigoro had said it as though she was expected to know what it meant.

She did not ask.

He noticed the pause but did not explain.

”The guards outside these rooms remain with you when you move through the Citadel.”

Diana wrote:

PROTECTION?

”Yes.”

She added another word.

ONLY?

”No.”

Alma became very still beside the wall. Raigoro did not soften the answer.

”Someone arranged ash hounds along your route. Someone damaged your carriage before we left Valence. I would guard you even if I believed every word Odran told me.”

Then he added, ”And I don’t.”

The guards were protection because someone had already tried to kill her. They were also surveillance because Raigoro knew Odran had deceived him and had no reason yet to believe Diana innocent of it.

Diana erased the question.

Apparently Blackharrow could protect her and distrust her at the same time.

”Anything she requires for ordinary daily use can be requested through the household,” Raigoro told Alma. ”If a guard prevents access somewhere, there is a reason. Ask before testing whether the guard is serious.”

Diana wrote:

DO PEOPLE OFTEN TEST THEM?

”Enough that I made the rule.”

Alma looked down.

Diana suspected the Citadel had just improved slightly.

”One more matter.”

Diana knew which one before he spoke. The bedroom had been sitting behind every other conversation since she entered the apartments.

Raigoro followed her attention toward the open door.

”The covenant made us legally married.”

Diana’s grip tightened around the chalk.

”You will not be required to share my bed.”

Diana had prepared herself for several versions of this conversation during the last hour. Refusal followed by anger. Conditions. An explanation of what the covenant entitled him to demand.

She had not prepared for that.

Raigoro continued in the same tone he had used for military archives and household guards.

”I will not enter yours unless you want me there.”

In Valence, doors could be locked because Odran ordered it. Clothes could be changed because Maerissa decided it. Guards could put hands on Alma because the king needed Diana to cooperate.

Nobody had asked Diana whether her own body belonged inside those decisions.

Raigoro seemed to find the matter obvious.

Beside the writing table, Alma had lost every trace of her earlier humor.

Diana lowered the chalk to the slate.

WHY?

Raigoro read it.

His answer came without hesitation.

”Because I have no use for obedience obtained that way.”

That sounded very much like Raigoro.

Practical enough to be believed.

Diana wiped the slate clean.

A rapid knock came from outside.

One of the guards opened the door before Raigoro answered.

A military courier stood in the corridor holding a sealed report.

”Your Grace. High Ward Command.”

Raigoro broke the seal beside Diana’s table. By the second line, whatever remained of the husband discussing household boundaries was gone.

”What happened?” Alma asked.

He read the page once more.

”Three outer ward beacons stopped reporting before sunset.”

The courier added, ”A patrol sent to inspect the nearest station has not returned.”

”How many?”

”Twelve.”

Raigoro folded the report.

”Tell the command room I am coming.”

The courier left at once.

Raigoro put the report inside his coat.

He had come to explain what marriage would mean and was already being called back to the frontier.

He stopped at the door.

”I leave before dawn.”