Legends of the Dragonrealm, Vol. III

alssso use the opportunity to convince the woman to return to my servicesss.”

“You’ll face the full population of the Manor if you try that, including some very adamant youngsters!”

“Then, I shall sssimply have to visit more often.”

“Shall I lead us back now, Master Bedlam?” At mention of the meal, Grath had become animated again. Yet again, Cabe marveled at the transformation the younger drake went through each time he and his brother separated. It was as if there were two Graths.

He almost wished there were. If Kyl were only more like Grath, Cabe knew that he would feel better about the upcoming visits. Yet, it was more likely the drakes would accept someone like Kyl. Grath might just be too human for them. In truth, the warlock knew that despite his misgivings concerning the dragon heir, Kyl was more likely to be able to control the Dragon Kings than his younger sibling.

Now if only someone could control Kyl, the warlock thought, then instantly regretted even considering the notion. That was one of the dangers both he and the Green Dragon feared. Once upon the throne, would Kyl prove to be the emperor that was needed, or would he fall victim to the twisted advice of one or more of the deadlier Dragon Kings?

Cabe belatedly realized Grath was still waiting for an answer to his question. The blue-robed sorcerer waved a hand at his charge, forced on a smile, and said, “Lead on! I’m beginning to feel a bit hungry myself!”

“This way, then, Lord Green. Master Bedlam.”

As they followed the drake, Cabe’s eyes strayed to the empty bench. Gone instantly were considerations concerning dangers to the ascension; instead, the warlock recalled two young folk sitting much too close to one another. The image reminded him that he had a personal reason for seeing Kyl safely through the visitations and the coronation. Kyl in his role as Gold, Dragon Emperor, would be far away, so far, in fact, that he might as well be on one of the moons. Cabe knew that what he wanted was selfish and likely prejudiced, but it was more than what Kyl was that made the master sorcerer desire him far from Valea. It was also who the dragon heir was, meaning the mind behind the exotic countenance. Perhaps it was simply the fear of a concerned parent, but he did not trust whatever intentions the handsome drake might have for his daughter. Telling Valea that, however, would avail him naught. She was just old enough to understand and just young enough not to listen. There were tales, some of them with much credence to back them up, of drakes and humans marrying and raising young. It was possible, according to what Cabe knew. Possible but unthinkable.

Maybe I’m just imagining things. Maybe my own fears are making me see something that isn’t there. Yet, Gwendolyn, too, had expressed such worries. Could they both be imagining it?

This was not the time for personal matters, he told himself. As dear as his family was to him, the fate of the entire realm waited on the outcome of this venture with Kyl and the throne. Whatever was or was not happening between his daughter and the drake had to be secondary.

Cabe hoped he would be able to remember that in the weeks to come.

III

“Well, it took some pressure from both Erini and his daughter, but Melicard has finally agreed to the suggestions made by Kyl.”

Cabe, seated, nodded absently as his wife talked. Normally, Lady Bedlam garnered his full attention, if only because he adored her so. Gwendolyn Bedlam was to him a forest goddess, a fire-tressed creature of the wild. She stood across from him now, a vision in green, her hair with its silver streak rippling nearly to her waist. The emerald riding outfit she wore perfectly accented a stunning figure. Her glittering eyes matched the color of her clothes.

Seeing that she was being all but ignored, the statuesque enchantress walked gracefully toward her husband, finally stationing herself directly before the warlock in an attempt to break him free from whatever spell held his mind.

Cabe looked up. “What is it?”

“Have you tired of me after all these years?”

His brow furrowed.

She knelt by his chair, one hand touching him softly on the arm. “You’re starting to find other things that interest you more than I do.”

He took hold of her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be silly. Nothing means more to me than you and the children.” Cabe took the hand and kissed it. “Young or old, beautiful or not, you know I’ll always love you.” A smile briefly touched his face. “I just hope that you’ll always feel the same way.”

“You shouldn’t have to ask.” Her own smile faded a little as she recalled what they had been discussing. “You heard what I said?”

“Melicard’s agreed. It took some doing?”

“For most of it, no. He actually found the suggestion concerning Kyl’s entrance to be reasonable. Where that was concerned, it was simply a matter of discussing it with his advisors. That’s what took three days . . . that, and the more delicate problem of Darkhorse.”

“Darkhorse?”

She nodded. The sunlight that touched her face accented what Cabe considered perfectly sculpted features, a sharp contrast to his own plain face. He was thankful that both children had taken after her. Valea especially would resemble her mother.

“Melicard has grown more reasonable in the past few years where Erini’s relationship with Darkhorse is concerned, but he doesn’t like the notion of the eternal being a part of a state affair. Tensions will be high enough without his unnerving presence, so the king said more times than I care to count.”

“It’s understandable.” Cabe tried to picture Darkhorse among the splendidly dressed courtiers. Both humans and drakes feared the eternal’s power. To most, Darkhorse was part legend, a thing of shadows. It was one reason why the warlock had not been pleased by Kyl’s suggestion. Darkhorse could cause the audience between the two monarchs to collapse simply by being there. “So has he agreed to the presence of Darkhorse or not?”

“He did. Finally. Erini and Lynnette had much to do with that. It’s hard for Melicard to refuse them anything.”

The warlock chuckled. “I think I understand that!”

She rose enough to give him a kiss, then stood. “You’d better understand that!”

He returned her playful smile, but other thoughts turned his expression sober. “I’m glad that’s settled. Now comes the interesting part.”

“You’ve still heard nothing?”

Cabe rose. He looked up at the ceiling, then back at his wife. “Nothing. It’s been three days since I sent out a magical summons to him. Three days and still he hasn’t come.”

“How very odd.” She put a hand to her chin. “Darkhorse is usually very prompt.”

“Unless he’s occupied with something. . . .”

Her expression said it all. “Shade?”

“I’d like to think not. I thought him over that obsession, but . . . I don’t know.”

Shade had been a warlock, possibly in his own way the most powerful that had ever lived. No one knew exactly how old the cloaked and hooded figure had been, but Cabe was certain that Shade could trace his origins back to the Vraad, the ancestral race of men. Shade, he was certain, had been Vraad.

The spell that had made the blur-faced sorcerer nigh immortal had also brought him to the edge of madness. Shade had been cursed to ever be reborn the opposite of what he had been in his previous life. Cabe had first known him as friend, but after the warlock’s death during battle, Shade had returned as the horrific