Chapter 49: How Do We Protect Her?
"We are examining it carefully," Cedric said. "Greaves will send back his report within the week. At that point, we will have more information. Real information. Not conjecture."
"And in the meantime?" Varrick asked.
"In the meantime," Cedric said, "we watch. We observe. We ensure that the girl is safe, that she is not harmed or exploited. And we keep this information absolutely secret. No one outside this room can know what we suspect. Not the noble families. Not the servants. Not even the kings themselves."
"Especially not the kings," Matthias said, understanding. "If Draeven and Kaelen knew we suspected her of being the Mother of Dragons, they would immediately move to protect her. To claim her. And that would raise questions."
"Exactly," Cedric said.
Aldrich was nodding slowly. "It is a sound plan. We are old men, but we are not fools. We know when something shifts in the realm. And I can feel it, a change in the very air of the palace. Something has begun that will not easily be stopped."
He looked at Cedric with ancient, knowing eyes. "The question is not whether you are right, Cedric. The question is what we will do when your investigation confirms it."
The council chamber was quiet for a long moment.
Then Matthias spoke. "I move that we authorize Cedric to continue his investigation. That we wait for Greaves’s report. That we maintain absolute secrecy regarding our suspicions. And that we prepare contingencies for both scenarios. That the girl is the Mother of Dragons, or that she is not."
"Seconded," Garrison said.
Varrick was still frowning, but he did not object.
One by one, the council members nodded their agreement.
"All in favor?" Cedric asked formally.
Every hand rose.
"Then it is decided," Cedric said. "We proceed carefully. We investigate quietly. We wait for Greaves’s report. And we do nothing that might alert anyone to our suspicions."
He looked directly at each council member. "This information does not leave this room. Not to your wives, not to your advisors, not to your confessors. The fate of the kingdom may depend on our discretion."
"Understood," Matthias said.
The others murmured their agreement.
As the council members began to gather their things, preparing to leave, Cedric called out one final instruction.
"One more thing. In the event that Greaves’s investigation confirms the girl’s significance, we must be prepared to act decisively. We will need to move quickly to secure her position in the palace. To protect her. To ensure that no one....noble or common, can use her as a weapon against the crown."
Brennan looked up from gathering his papers. "How do we protect her? If she becomes known..."
"We cross that bridge when we come to it," Cedric said. "For now, we simply wait. We watch. And we prepare."
As the last council member filed out of the chamber, Lord Aldrich paused at the door.
"Cedric," he said, his ancient voice carrying weight that belied his fragile frame.
"Yes, my lord?"
"If this girl is truly the Mother of Dragons, you understand what that means? It means the prophecy is real. It means everything we have believed for two hundred years is about to come true. And it means the kingdom as we know it is about to change forever."
Cedric met the old man’s gaze. "I understand."
"I hope you do." Aldrich moved toward the door, his cane tapping against the stone floor. "Because once this is revealed, there is no going back. The dragons will know their Mother. And everything, everything will be different."
He left, leaving Cedric alone in the vast council chamber.
***
The sun had nearly set, painting the stained glass windows in shades of deep purple and blood red.
Cedric stood at the center of the chamber and looked up at the three empty thrones visible through the doorway.
The thrones of the Dragon Kings.
Empty.
Waiting.
For what? he wondered. For the girl? For the prophecy to fulfill itself?
Cedric crossed to the fireplace and pulled out a small piece of parchment. He wrote quickly, in his own hand:
Greaves: The investigation becomes critical. The council has authorized your inquiry. Find me everything. Birth records, family history, heritage, bloodline, secrets. Everything. The fate of the kingdom may depend upon it. Report within the week. ----Cedric
He sealed it with his own sigil and handed it to a servant who had appeared in the chamber.
"Send this by private courier," Cedric commanded. "No one else is to know of it."
"Yes, my lord."
The servant disappeared.
And Cedric was alone once more.
He turned and looked back at the three empty thrones.
The Mother of Dragons, he thought.
Born of fire. Hidden in shadow. A woman who will break the curse or break under its weight.
He did not know which.
He could only wait.
And hope that when the truth was revealed, they would be ready for it.
***
*THE BALL*
The grand ballroom was a hive of controlled chaos.
Servants moved with purpose through the vast space, their footsteps echoing against marble floors polished to a mirror shine. Some hung crimson silk banners from the vaulted ceiling, their movements careful and precise. Others arranged towering displays of flowers...roses, lilies, orchids, in patterns so intricate they seemed almost alive. The scent was overwhelming: sweet and cloying and intoxicating, filling every corner of the room.
At the far end, the orchestra was setting up.
Violins were being tuned, their strings catching the light. A harp was positioned on the raised stage, its golden frame gleaming. Flutes and horns were tested, their notes floating through the space like ghosts.
Everything had to be perfect.
Everything had to be.
Because tonight was the Selection Ball, the formal presentation of the noble daughters to the three Dragon Kings. The last real opportunity for any of them to catch the attention of a monarch. The last grand gesture before the selection either resulted in a match or was deemed a failure.
The staff knew the stakes.
Mistress Calla moved through the chaos like a general commanding an army, her sharp eyes taking in every detail. A flower was out of place...corrected. A banner hung slightly crooked....adjusted. A servant’s uniform was wrinkled....replaced.