Shadow Scale: A Companion to Seraphina(154)

I kissed his forehead and let him go.



Blanche, with quigutl assistance, restored Glisselda’s communication box, and we finally heard from Ardmagar Comonot. He’d reached the Kerama, but not without difficulty. “We were outnumbered two to one,” he said, “but you would not believe how those exiles fought. They were impassioned. I’ve never seen the like. And to some degree, we got lucky. I made it to the Keramaseye—the great amphitheater in the sky, where the Ker meets—and took up the Opal of Office. All around us, the fighting died as the Old Ard saw what I had done, and they remembered there was more to being dragons than their pernicious anti-human ideology: there are traditions, and protocols, and the correct order of things. And the correct order of succession is that I may defend myself, with law or with talons. No more cowardly backstabbing or costly war.”

He had ended the war; Kiggs and Glisselda congratulated him heartily. There were still months, or perhaps years, of debate and negotiation ahead—whether to disband the Censors altogether, how to integrate the exiles, whether the Ardmagar should be elected and be subject to term limits—but Comonot seemed to relish the prospect. “It doesn’t matter how long it takes. We’re debating instead of biting each other’s throats out, and that is entirely for the good.”

I told him about Orma’s condition, and he grew quiet. “Eskar may have insights into what the mind-pearl trigger could be,” he said at last. “It will be several months before she can travel, however. She’s imparting memories to her egg-to-be, but once she’s laid it, she can leave it in a hatchery.”

Glisselda met my eyes with a quizzical look, not sure how to respond to this news. “I’m so pleased for you, Ardmagar,” I said, although I was a little disheartened for my uncle.

“Don’t congratulate me yet,” said the old saar gruffly. “I see how these Porphyrian-born hatchlings carry on. There really is more to this than neck-biting, I fear. And, Seraphina,” he added, “I heard your tone just then, and recognized how it contradicted your words. That’s how astute and sensitive my experience has made me.”

I rolled my eyes for the benefit of the royal cousins. “And?” I said.

“And you needn’t fear for your uncle,” he said. “Eskar has done her service to the Tanamoot, and she’ll be at his side again, first opportunity she has. Once I would have judged her harshly for it and sent her to be pulled apart. Now I only marvel at the capaciousness of her heart.”



Kiggs and Glisselda were married before the end of the year.

The three of us agreed it should happen. Consensus came surprisingly easily, although I think we each had different reasons. Glisselda couldn’t bear the thought of marrying anyone else; if she had to marry someone, let it be the dear old friend who knew her better than anyone and would keep their partnership strictly political. Kiggs, for his part, felt practically married already—to Goredd. It was his grandmother’s wish that the cousins should rule together, there was duty and honor involved, and I was able to convince him that I didn’t mind.

And as strange as it may sound, I didn’t. We three knew what we were to each other; we would plan and negotiate and build our own way forward, and it was nobody’s business but ours.

Glisselda was still a consummate traditionalist in her own way; the wedding had to have the proper nightfest, cathedral service, wedding journey, and all. It was to be Goredd’s wedding, the opening salvo of the new reign of peace.

A nightfest is exactly what it sounds like: it lasts all night. First came feasting, then entertainments, then dancing (once dinner was sufficiently digested), then more entertainments, then strategic napping (followed by vehement denials of napping), and finally the service at St. Gobnait’s cathedral just as the sun was coming up.

I organized the entertainments, of course. It was both strange and comforting to fall back into that work. I performed on flute and oud over the course of the evening, and danced twice, unobtrusively, with my prince.

What I didn’t anticipate was the awed silences. The way people paid special attention when I played, watched me dancing, gathered in a silent circle around me while I took my refreshment, and sneaked tugs at my gown.

These people had seen something. Even in the tunnels, I’d heard, they’d been able to see Pandowdy’s light and feel the rumble of his voice. A stone had been cast, and we’d only just begun to see its ripples.

I shared a carriage to the cathedral with Dame Okra. “You’re awfully sanguine,” she said, watching me with carefully affected casualness. “You weren’t overrun, so you won’t know this, but Jannoula’s mind leaked into ours sometimes. She knew what the prince was to you.”

“Do all the ityasaari know?” I said, less alarmed than she probably hoped.

She shrugged, a smirk on her froggy face. “Possibly. I just have one question: What will you do about the fact that Queen Glisselda will be expected to produce an heir?”

Absurdly, I found her nastiness—the sheer normalcy of it—reassuring. I said, “We shall have long meetings where Kiggs agonizes and Glisselda teases him. That’s the pattern so far.”

“And you?” she said, leering. “What do you do?”

“I do what I have always done,” I said, suddenly realizing the truth of it. “I reach across and bring the worlds together.”