Stephen Deas - The adamantine palace

Ah, the dangerous one. Good. I don't have to be nice to her.

'And this is my youngest daughter, Princess Lystra.'

Princess Lystra bowed to him, but her eyes still never quite left his own. Jehal tried to hide a smirk. Sweet, with a hint of spice. Now, is that the way you really are, or have you simply taken the trouble to find out what I like?

'Princess Lystra.' Jehal made a point of not bowing in return for a second or two. 'I… I… am overwhelmed. I have heard of the beauty and elegance of the ladies of the north, but you must surely be the most delightful, the most sublime, the most radiant… Why, I'm not sure I can marry you, for if I do, you will be the fairest of my father's subjects, and every lady in Furymouth will seethe with jealousy.'

Princess Lystra blushed prettily. So… she might be clever enough to recognise flattery when she hears it, but she still likes it. Good.

'Would that not be the case whoever Your Highness marries?'

Jehal blinked. Queen Shezira clearly didn't approve of her daughter being so forward, but Jehal found that he rather did. Apparently I like a little flattery too. Well who would have guessed?

'You are too kind, Your Highness.' He smiled and gave a little sigh, and then gestured to the walls of Clifftop. 'Shall we clear the landing field, Your Holiness?' He spoke to Queen Shezira now, who gave a little nod of her head. The best bit, Jehal thought, of being a prince, was that you only had to do the interesting things. The tiresome logistics of dealing with all these dragons, all the riders that Queen Shezira had brought with her, servants, alchemists and so on and so forth, all that was entirely Lord Meteroa's problem.

As they walked, Jehal stole a glance at the skies, looking for Shezira's fabled perfect white. He was wasting his time, though. The other dragons were all still too high to make out any colouring, all circling silhouettes and shadows. He was itching to ask, but that would have been crass.

They paused for a moment at the doors to Clifftop. Queen Shezira was obliged to survey his men, all dressed up in their gleaming dragonscale. For a moment, all was still and silent except for the distant waves crashing against the base of the cliffs.

'Your riders are a credit to your father, Prince Jehal,' said Queen Shezira, and Jehal couldn't decide whether she meant it, or whether she was simply saying what she was supposed to say.

Either way, there was only one correct response. He bowed. 'You're too kind, Your Holiness. My father will be delighted to hear your compliments. Your own are known throughout the realms for their strength and their splendour.' Which was rubbish, of course. If anything, the riders of the northern realms were known for quite the opposite.

Queen Shezira's face didn't flinch, but Jehal caught a flicker of disdain from Princess Jaslyn. Full of fire and fury this one. All austerity and determination and not even a flicker of fun. I can than\ my ancestors that she's not the one I'm marrying. A real joy she's going to be at the wedding feast. The thought made him shudder. There were certain duties that fell to elder sisters at these times. Poor Princess Lystra…

'Excuse me, Your Highness, but may I ask what's making that sound?'

Jehal's thoughts fell into disarray. 'Pardon me?'

Lystra was looking straight at him again. 'What is making that sound, Your Highness?'

Jehal cocked his head. 'I'm sorry, Princess Lystra, but I don't hear anything.'

'She means the sea,' muttered Shezira.

For a moment Jehal almost forgot himself. 'Have you not…?' Never seen the sea?

Lystra bowed her head, looking abashed. 'I have seen the Sea of Sand and the Sea of Salt, Your Highness.'

Jehal smiled. 'And I have seen neither, and they are doubtless mighty and magnificent. We have a different sea here, and I will show it to you at once.' He glanced at Queen Shezira. 'If Your Holiness will permit.'

Shezira gave a curt nod. Lord Meteroa and the stewards of Clifftop would doubtless start pulling their hair out at this diversion from the precise script of the day, but Jehal couldn't help himself. Never seen the sea?

He led the way around Clifftop towards the edge, where the land fell away, sheered and shattered by some unimaginable violence.

'Have a care, Your Highnesses. The edge is treacherous. It's a long way down, and many people have fallen over the years. The sea pulls them down, somehow.' He stopped a couple of feet from the edge and offered Princess Lystra his hand. 'The sea, Your Highness. The endless Sea of Storms.'

Lystra took his hand, and so he gave it a gentle squeeze and hoped that Queen Shezira wouldn't notice.

'It's… breathtaking.' The cliffs dropped a hundred feet to the roaring crashing waves. The sea went on forever, a churning maze of white-capped waves stretched as far as the eye could see, fading into the grey haze of the far horizon, a mighty monster that could sometimes make even a dragon seem small and tame, jehal smiled at Lystra. Up here on the edge you could feel the spray and even taste the salt in the air. Lystra was staring, mouth agape. 'It goes on and on and doesn't stop! Like the Sea of Sand, except made of water!'

Jehal gave her an indulgent smile. 'The Taiytakei say that if you sail far enough, and can navigate the storms, there are other lands across the waters, so distant that you would have to cross from one end of the realms to the other to even begin to understand how far away they are.' Mentally he congratulated himself. There. That didn't sound patronising at all.

'All that water…' Lystra took a step closer to the edge. Jehal tightened his grip on her hand and she stopped. The cliffs plunged vertically down into the sea.

'There is a path, from the back of Clifftop, that runs down to the sea,' he said. 'The steps are worn and slippery and the way is treacherous, but there is a cave there that can only be reached by those steps. To truly see the waves crash on the rocks and send their plumes of spray up into the air, there is no better place than that cave. I will take you there one day.'

Jaslyn suddenly walked right up to the edge and looked down. For a moment it seemed to Jehal that she swayed in the wind that whipped and swirled up the face of the cliff. If she did, though, she quickly caught herself, and the next thing he knew Lystra had slipped her hand out of his and was standing next to her elder sister, laughing.

Furymouth

Shezira had little choice but to bite her tongue and hold her anger. As soon as they entered Clifftop, the rituals began in earnest. First the breaking of bread with Prince Jehal and his lords to assuage the hunger that came after a day on dragonback. Then there were scented baths and massages to ease sore muscles. After that she had to dress, and then came the formal feast, which ran from dusk until the middle of the night and beyond. Parts of it might still have been running when Shezira rose again at dawn.

Then she had to dress for the journey to Furymouth. That was the trouble with being a queen. She always had to be somewhere or do something, which meant there was no time left to keep an eye on her daughters, and it was up to Lady Nastria to make sure they looked the way they were supposed to look, and that they appeared in the right places at the right times. Without Nastria, Shezira was quite sure that Jaslyn, at least, would have sought out Prince Jehal's secret steps and spent the whole time in his cave. Likely as not, Lystra would have followed her.

Finally, the carriages to Furymouth were ready to go. All her riders were mounted up as escort, there was nothing left for her to do and she had her daughters to herself again.

'What do you think you're doing?' she snapped as soon as the carriage wheels were rolling. 'Both of you! Talking back at him? Holding his hand?'