Queen Glaciana Frostborne Alpineglow's Arc

Chapter 20 of 33

Below the chamber, the palace woke to Victor's order. Servants dragged straw and blankets to the empty courtyard. Guards cleared the old grain sheds to make a den for the dragon. Glaciana heard the noise through the floor—boots, wheels, voices calling across the stone. She had given the command herself that morning. Now the work went on without her. She stayed in the bed. Victor had pulled her back under the blankets when she reached for her gown. He lay shirtless beside her, one arm across her waist. His skin was warm. For three winters she had woken cold. Now she woke to him. "They can manage the sheds," Victor said. He said it plainly, the way he said everything. "We manage this." Glaciana turned to face him. "The elders wanted a king for years. Now they have one who orders a dragon's bed before breakfast." She smiled. "They will talk." "Let them." He kissed her. She kissed him back, and again, until the noise below stopped mattering. His hand moved to her belly and rested there. He did not name what he meant. He did not need to. She knew. They had spoken of children on the mountain. She had blushed then. She did not blush now. She covered his hand with hers and held it against her. "You want this," she said. Not a question. "I want a family." His grey eyes held hers. "I lost mine young. My father. The dragon, I thought." He rarely said that much. He stopped there, as he always did. "I will not lose this one." Glaciana thought of the courtyard filling below, of the guardian coming out of the ice for children not yet born. The kingdom had asked for years who would come after her. She had an answer now. A husband beside her. A dragon making for the palace. A choice she could make in this bed. "Then we start it," she said. "Here. Now." Victor's jaw eased. He pulled her close and kissed her, and she let the morning belong to them. The ledger sat closed on the table. The word "temporary" was gone from it. So was the cold. A knock came at the door. Neither of them answered. It came again, then stopped. Boots retreated down the corridor. Whatever the servants needed, it would wait. Much later, Glaciana rose and went to the window. The courtyard below was ready—straw laid deep, the den framed in cleared timber. Far off, the dragon's shape hung closer than the day before. She watched it a moment, then turned back to Victor, who slept now with one hand still open on the empty sheet beside him, as if reaching for her. She had made room for the dragon. She had made room for more than that. What they had begun last night and this morning would show itself in time, and they would have to tell the court before they guessed it first.