The Dragon King's Weak Mate

Lady Marisol

The banquet hall was already filling by the time Fenna finished lacing Sable into the only gown that could be altered in time, deep green silk that had clearly been tailored for someone with broader shoulders, and Sable stood before the small looking glass feeling every inch the borrowed, ill-fitting thing she suspected the entire court already believed her to be.

"You look lovely," Fenna said firmly, catching the doubt on Sable's face in the glass.

"I look like I'm wearing someone else's life," Sable said, and Fenna, to her credit, didn't argue the point, only smoothed a stray curl back from Sable's face and steered her firmly toward the door before nerves could root her in place entirely.

The hall itself was overwhelming, dragon nobility and visiting wolf envoys mingling beneath high vaulted ceilings strung with lanterns that burned without smoke, an enchantment Sable had never seen before and didn't have the composure left to properly admire. She was seated, as promised, at the king's side, close enough to feel the strange, warm pull of the bond radiating off him even though neither of them had spoken more than the barest necessary words since the throne room.

It was Lady Marisol who broke the silence between them, gliding over from a cluster of noblewomen with the kind of practiced grace that made every movement look effortless, her gown a deep, wine-dark red that Sable's borrowed green couldn't hope to compete with.

"King Kael." Marisol's voice was warm honey over something colder beneath, and she inclined her head to him with exactly the correct degree of formal respect before turning her attention, deliberately slow, to Sable. "And this must be the mate the bond so surprisingly chose. How fascinating. I confess I expected someone with rather more presence."

"Lady Marisol," Kael said, and something careful entered his voice, the tone of a man navigating old, familiar terrain he'd rather avoid. "I don't believe you've been introduced."

"There's hardly need," Marisol said, smiling in a way that didn't reach her eyes at all. "The whole court has heard quite enough about her already." She turned back to Sable, tilting her head with an air of exaggerated curiosity. "Tell me, is it true the border packs turned down every courtship offer you ever received? I only ask because I find it remarkable, the bond choosing someone no one else ever wanted."

Sable felt the words land exactly where they were meant to, sharp and precise, and beneath the table her hands curled tight in her borrowed skirts. She had promised herself, climbing the mountain road, that she would not shrink in front of this court, and she forced her spine straight now with an effort that cost her more than she wanted to admit.

"I don't know that anyone asked to be wanted by the sort of men who make offers to pack elders instead of the women themselves," Sable said, keeping her voice as level as she could manage. "I imagine that says more about them than it does about me."

Something flickered across Marisol's face, surprise quickly smoothed back into composure, and beside Sable, Kael went very still in a way that felt, unmistakably, like restrained amusement.

"How spirited," Marisol said, recovering smoothly. "I do hope that lasts, my dear. This court has a way of wearing spirit down rather quickly." She turned back to Kael, voice dropping into something warmer, more familiar. "My king, I do hope you'll save a dance for me later. For old time's sake, if nothing else."

"I don't believe I'll be dancing tonight," Kael said, and there was an edge to it that made Marisol's smile tighten fractionally before she inclined her head and drifted back toward her waiting circle of noblewomen, silk trailing behind her like a warning.

The moment she was out of earshot, Sable let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, and beside her, Kael spoke for the first time all evening without the cold formality he'd maintained since the throne room.

"My uncle once hoped I would mate her," he said, quiet enough that only Sable could hear. "Before the bond made the question irrelevant. She has not entirely forgiven either of us for that."

"She seems like she'd be difficult to forgive anything," Sable said, and was startled to hear something that sounded almost like a laugh escape Kael in response, low and brief and immediately smothered, as though he hadn't intended to allow it.

They sat in an odd, uneasy quiet after that, the noise of the banquet washing around them, and Sable found herself sneaking glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking, trying to reconcile the cold king who'd dismissed her in the throne room with the man who'd just, however briefly, nearly laughed at her joke.

It was well into the evening, the banquet beginning to wind down toward its formal close, when a commotion near the hall's entrance drew every eye at once, a flustered steward hurrying toward the dais with a folded letter clutched in one hand, his face carrying the particular urgency of a man delivering news he wished he didn't have to interrupt a royal banquet to share.

"My king," the steward said, breathless, bowing hastily before Kael. "A rider has arrived from the western border. He says it's urgent, and that it concerns Alpha Draven Kastor."

Kael's entire posture changed at the name, something wary and sharp entering his expression, and beside him, Sable felt her own stomach twist with a dread she didn't yet fully understand but recognized instinctively as real.

"What does the message say?" Kael asked.

The steward hesitated, glancing once, briefly, toward Sable, before answering. "It says Alpha Kastor has heard that the Dragon King's new mate hails from the same territories he once sought a courtship with. He requests the honor of attending the formal envoy visit in person, ahead of schedule, to renew what he calls an old and unfinished acquaintance.”