Dorian started walking backwards in Draven’s direction. “Request, command, summons… whatever you want to call it.”
He turned on his heel without another look and caught up with Draven, who was waiting on him at the end of the hall.
“Something wrong?” Dorian asked.
“Is there somewhere we can talk?” Draven asked.
Dorian’s eyes narrowed at the Venari King. “Talk?” He looked around him, making sure Draven was actually talking to him. “Who—me?”
A quiet scoff left Draven’s lips. “Yeah. Nadir has something he wants to talk about regarding the ships, and I wanted you to be in the room.”
“But… Why me?” Dorian asked.
“Don’t act so surprised, Prince,” Draven smirked. “Where can we—“
The noise of loud, running footsteps and crashing armor sounded at the end of the hall. Nadir had rounded the corner in a fury, and he went tumbling into a suit of armor. He hastily tried to put it back together, cursing in an incoherent babble that Dorian didn’t recognize, and he grabbed the great spear as it went crashing to the ground.
It was a miserable failure, and Dorian wasn’t sure whether to laugh or not.
Draven shifted, arms crossing over his chest. “What are you running from?”
“Ah, fucking—“ Nadir gave up trying to pick up pieces and kicked the armor off his foot to the pile on the floor. “Fucking Belwarks stationed outside the Princess’s room. They thought—“
His gaze landed on Dorian then, and he paused to straighten his shirt, obviously wary of saying whatever it was about Nyssa that Dorian wouldn’t approve of.
But Dorian just chuckled quietly. “They’re not used to hearing her scream,” he bantered. “Usually it only comes from Drae’s room.”
Draven’s lip quirked in response, but he didn’t speak.
Nadir looked like he might smile, as though he’d accomplished a remarkable feat, and Dorian noted a blush on his cheeks as the Commander looked at the ground and then up to Draven.
“That’s the third time you’ve fallen today while talking about her,” Draven noted.
But it didn’t seem to phase the Commander as his confident smile widened, chin lifting in a smug manner. “You want to talk about falling, don’t make me embarrass you,” Nadir teased. “I’ve enough mountain stories to make even the great Venari King blush.”
Dorian grinned. “Do tell.”
Nadir’s smile widened. “After a smoke, Prince,” he promised. He looked to Draven. “Haven’t had a smoke in two days, can you believe it? She’s fucking magic, mate.”
“That’s his sister you’re fucking and calling magic,” Draven said. “Not sure the Prince wants to hear about those details.”
“We’re both fucking his sisters,” Nadir countered. “If he’s got a problem with it, I think he’d have made it known by now.”
“To be fair,” Dorian started, looking at Draven, “I fucked your Second her first night here, so I believe we’re even.”
Nadir burst out laughing, a cackling laugh that echoed down the hall, yet Draven only stared at Dorian a long moment, eyes narrowing. It was long enough of a moment that Dorian questioned whether he should have said it.
“Respectfully, of course,” Dorian added, a smile on his lips.
“Right…” Draven said slowly, still eyeing the Prince. “I’ll have to speak with Bala about her life choices.”
Dorian wasn’t deterred by the tease. “You definitely should,” he agreed. “And both of my sistersaremagic. People fall to their knees like gravity vanishes beneath them when they want them to.”
Dorian chose the library for them to meet in. He brought the whiskey out of the cabinet as Nadir and Draven settled in the leather armchairs, Draven taking his baggie of herb from his pocket to pack his own pipe with, Nadir doing the same.
“Forgot this was here,” Nadir was saying.
“You’ve been here before?” Dorian asked.
