The Dragon Warlord's Silent Bride

DIANA’S POV

By breakfast, Diana had stopped expecting Raigoro to return and ask how long.

Other people in Blackharrow were changing instead.

The change was easiest to notice among the household servants. A young woman who had previously placed breakfast on the table and escaped as quickly as courtesy allowed now waited while Diana chose between frostberry preserve and plum jam. One of the kitchen servants even asked whether Her Grace still wanted the Southern spice dish served once a week.

Others remained exactly as formal as before. Diana preferred that. Third Watch had not disappeared because she knew how to open a door.

Raigoro’s questions had not disappeared either.

He had left her rooms the previous day without the answer he wanted, and Diana had spent enough of the afternoon expecting him to return that even Alma eventually stopped pretending not to notice.

He had not come back.

Diana still did not know what Daric might find or how long Selena’s name would continue to protect her. Sitting inside her apartments would not change either of those things.

Blackharrow kept placing small parts of a Duchess’s life in front of her anyway: household papers, keys, rooms, people who stopped to ask what she preferred. Diana did not yet know how much of that life would remain if Raigoro learned the truth.

For as long as she had it, she wanted to understand what was actually expected of her.

Later that morning, Diana learned the name of one of the women she had noticed waiting outside the infirmary.

Mira Pell.

The first household decision brought specifically to Diana concerned one empty room.

Apparently Blackharrow intended to begin her morning with actual authority.

Mistress Hale arrived carrying a single page rather than the stacks Diana had begun associating with danger.

Alma looked at the page.

”Only one?”

”Only one.”

Diana was immediately suspicious.

Mistress Hale placed it on the writing table.

”One of the rooms assigned to Your Grace’s personal household is currently unused.”

Diana looked toward her.

”The east attendant room. It was reserved for an additional lady attendant should you choose to appoint one.”

Diana remembered.

Raigoro had told her she could retain her own staff and appoint additional attendants from the approved household rolls.

She had appointed no one else.

Alma remained enough work by herself.

Diana wrote:

WHAT ABOUT IT?

”Mistress Mira Pell has remained at the Citadel because her son is still in the infirmary.”

Diana remembered seeing families waiting outside the treatment rooms during her tour.

”Her temporary accommodation is in the western guest wing, which closes after the winter gathering. Her son is expected to remain in treatment another six or seven days.”

Blackharrow was apparently unwilling to heat an empty corridor for one woman when another room stood unused.

”The most suitable room is the east attendant room assigned to your household.”

Diana knew which room Mistress Hale meant. It belonged to the residential passage serving her apartments, inside the household guard line but beyond the doors of her private rooms.

She wrote:

IS IT INSIDE MY PRIVATE CORRIDOR?

”Inside the guarded household section,” Mistress Hale said. ”Mistress Pell would use the servants’ stair. She would have no access to your sitting room or bedchamber.”

The distinction mattered. Valence had trained Diana to notice who could enter a corridor long before anyone reached her room.

Mistress Hale waited for Diana to finish considering it.

WHY ASK ME?

”Because the room has already been assigned for your use.”

Diana stopped.

Her use.

”I can reassign ordinary guest rooms without asking you,” Mistress Hale said. ”That room has already been allocated to your household, so I need your permission.”

Diana looked toward Alma.

Alma gave her no help at all.

Diana wrote:

DO I NEED IT?

”Not unless you intend to appoint another attendant this week.”

HOW LONG DOES SHE NEED IT?

”Until her son is discharged.”

Diana wrote:

LET HER USE IT.

Mistress Hale read the slate.

”Until her son’s discharge?”

Diana nodded.

The housekeeper made one notation.

That was apparently the entire process.

Diana waited.

Mistress Hale gathered the paper.

”Thank you, Your Grace.”

Diana wrote:

THAT IS ALL?

”Yes.”

Alma waited until the door closed.

”You seem disappointed.”

Diana shook her head.

”You expected more paperwork.”

A little.

Later that morning, a copy of the room reassignment appeared among Diana’s household papers.

EAST ATTENDANT ROOM

TEMPORARILY ASSIGNED TO MISTRESS MIRA PELL

BY PERMISSION OF HER GRACE

Diana read the last line twice.

The decision had been simple. That was what made it strange.

In Valence, Diana had owned rooms only until someone else wanted them. Doors were locked against her, servants reassigned, and her mother’s belongings disappeared piece by piece after Elara died.

Blackharrow had asked before using one empty room.

A servant arrived later with fresh paper.

Before leaving she said, ”Mistress Pell asked me to thank Your Grace.”

Diana took her slate.

SHE DOES NOT NEED TO THANK ME FOR AN EMPTY ROOM.

The servant read it.

”I’ll tell her.”

She left.

That afternoon, household servants brought Mira Pell’s belongings to the east attendant room.

Diana was returning from the infirmary when she found Mira being escorted into the guarded residential passage, the same bundle of folded clothing in her arms.

Mira bowed. ”Your Grace.”

Diana took out her slate before the woman could begin thanking her.

YOUR SON?

”Better today. The healer says he may be walking before I leave.”

Diana nodded.

A voice behind her said, ”Why is there a civilian being moved into this section?”

Diana turned.

Raigoro had come through the passage from the direction of the Inner Keep.

The question he had left unanswered between them yesterday returned to Diana’s mind before she could stop it.

He did not mention it.

Mistress Hale answered him.

”Mistress Pell’s temporary guest accommodation ended with the gathering. Her son remains in the infirmary, so I requested use of the east attendant room.”

Raigoro looked toward Diana.

”You approved it?”

She nodded and wrote:

I WAS NOT USING IT.

His attention moved to Mistress Hale.

”You asked before assigning it?”

”Yes, Your Grace.”

”Good.”

Diana looked between them, then wrote:

WOULD SHE ASK YOU ABOUT AN ORDINARY GUEST ROOM?

Raigoro read the slate.

”No. Ordinary guest rooms are hers to assign. That one had already been given to your household.”

Diana touched the daily keys at her belt. Blackharrow barred her from its military rooms, but the boundaries around what belonged to her apparently worked in both directions.

”Mistress Hale handled it correctly.”

Then he continued down the passage.

Diana remained where she was.

He had been close enough to ask yesterday’s question again.

He had spoken to her about a room instead.

Diana did not mistake that for the end of his investigation. Daric was still searching, and Raigoro had told her plainly that he intended to verify what he could.

But he had said he would leave the question.

So far, he had.

Alma waited until evening to give her the violin.

Diana had nearly finished reviewing the household papers when Alma disappeared into her own room and returned carrying a narrow wooden case.

Alma placed the case on the table.

Diana raised an eyebrow.

”Before you ask, no, I did not steal it.”

Diana reached for her slate.

I HAD NOT ASKED.

”You were about to.”

Diana looked at the case again.

It was old. Not neglected, but used. One corner had been repaired with darker wood, and the brass clasp had lost most of its shine.

Alma pushed it toward her.

”Open it.”

Diana did.

Diana did not move.

A violin lay inside.

Her violin remained in Valence, probably still inside the old cabinet near the music room unless someone had already decided the space could be used for something else.

This one was darker and older. A thin scratch crossed the varnish below the bridge, one peg had been replaced, and the bow had been recently rehaired.

Her fingers stopped above the strings.

She looked at Alma.

Alma smiled.

”Happy birthday.”

Diana went still.

The date.

She had known it was coming. Then the fire, Raigoro’s return, his questions, Selena speaking nineteen days before the wedding, and everything Daric might now be looking for had pushed it somewhere behind more urgent things.

Twenty-five.

Nobody in Blackharrow knew.

Why would they?

The woman Blackharrow believed it had married had another birthday.

Diana touched the violin carefully.

Then she looked at Alma again.

WHERE DID YOU GET THIS?

”A musician from one of the lower Citadel households was selling it. Her daughter has moved to a larger instrument, and this one has been sitting in its case.”

Diana looked at the repaired corner.

Alma added, ”I could afford it.”

Diana’s attention sharpened.

”With my wages.”

Diana stared at her.

”My first Blackharrow pay was issued yesterday.”

Diana reached for the slate.

YOU SPENT IT ON THIS?

”Not all of it.”

Diana waited.

Alma reconsidered.

”Most of it.”

”It was secondhand.”

Diana continued staring.

”Very secondhand.”

Diana pointed toward the violin.

Alma folded her arms. ”You have spent three weeks away pretending you do not miss anything from Valence.”

Diana looked down.

She did not miss Valence.

That was different.

Books could be replaced. Clothes certainly could.

The violin had been harder.

She had learned on one small enough for a child while her mother was still alive. After most of Diana’s formal tutors disappeared, music remained because no one considered it politically important enough to forbid.

She had played because she liked it.

There had not been many things in Valence that required no better reason.

Diana lifted the violin from the case.

The familiar weight settled into her hand.

Alma’s voice softened.

”I thought you might miss this part.”

Diana looked down at the violin.

Yes.

She reached for the bow.

Alma immediately sat.

Diana raised an eyebrow.

”I paid for it. I am listening.”

Apparently wages had made her authoritarian.

Diana checked the strings.

The instrument was slightly out of tune.

Of course.

She adjusted the first peg, then the next, listening carefully until the notes settled where they belonged.

Her fingers remembered before the rest of her did.

She raised the violin beneath her chin.

The first note came out rough.

Diana stopped.

Alma wisely said nothing.

She adjusted the bow.

Tried again.

Better.

Then another note.

A familiar scale.

Her left hand hesitated over a shift she had not made in weeks, corrected, and continued.

She played only a short piece.

Nothing difficult.

One of the exercises her first music teacher had taught her years before Elara died, altered over time because Diana had become bored with playing it exactly as written.

When the final note faded, Alma remained quiet.

Diana lowered the violin.

She looked toward her slate.

Alma said, ”If you write that I should return it, I will ignore you.”

Diana considered.

Then wrote:

THE BOW NEEDS WORK.

Alma laughed.

Diana looked back at the instrument.

Twenty-five years old. No court announcement. No banquet. No jeweled gifts carried through the palace. No one outside these rooms even knew there was anything to celebrate.

Diana did not mind.

Alma had remembered.

The keys at Diana’s belt belonged to her household. A paper on the table carried her decision. The violin rested in her hands because Alma had remembered something Diana missed.

None carried the name Diana Valence.

They were hers anyway.

A dragon horn sounded from the lower courts.

A second answered from beyond the outer wall.

Alma turned toward the window. ”The Winter Muster.”

Diana set the violin carefully back into its case before crossing to the glass. Far below, movement had begun in the lower courts.

Something dark passed across the pale winter sky.