I remind my heart to keep beating and try to focus on what I should. Like my enemy seated beside me.
Watching the Hollowborn, I notice that he studies each dish carefully before putting a little on his fork and sampling it. I know he’s not checking for poison, since we all ate from the same dishes, but it takes me a minute to realize that he’s probably not seen a lot of the foods we eat. This… this is a chance to get to know him better. To show Harper I can try.
“King Sevrin–” I begin.
“Sevrin,” he corrects. “We will be in a family unit with Harper tomorrow. You can address me informally.”
I don’t know how I feel about that, but I’m trying. Hard. “Sevrin, are our dishes unusual to you?”
Before he can answer, Elder Thorne jumps in, “All his people eat are slugs and other disgusting creatures.”
“Actually,” Sevrin corrects, “most of our food comes from the sea, since our lands aren’t very fertile, but we do have some plants and animals. Nothing like this though. You guys have so many colors and so many things I can’t even begin to identify.”
“You’ll get used to it eventually,” Harper says, giving him a smile.
He leans down and kisses her gently, and I resist the urge to kick his chair out from under him. “A lot of our meat is beef, from cows, and chicken, from, well, chickens.”
“Thank you, that’s helpful,” he says.
I give Harper a look, and she gives me one back. It’s a look that says she’s noticed I’m trying and appreciates it, and I feel like a kid in school, excited to be acknowledged.
“Is it strange to be surrounded by dragons when you’re used to your bone wyrms, Sevrin?” Elder Thorne asks, with a sneer.
“It’s King Sevrin to you,” the Hollowborn corrects softly, but there’s steel beneath his words.
Elder Thorne’s face turns red. “Of course, my apologies, King Sevrin.”
“It is wonderful to be surrounded by dragons,” he explains, taking a bite of his filet mignon, his eyes widening as he does so.
“But we thought your kind preferred to be surrounded by the dead.” Again, Elder Thorne’s words are aggressive, bordering on rude.
My father shoots him a look. “Not that there’s anything wrong with such a thing.”
Sevrin seems to consider his words with care. “The Hollowborn have the unique ability to raise things from the dead. There is a limit to our abilities, however. If we choose to raise something as big as a dragon, it requires a lot of our magic. And it takes a lot of magic to keep the bone wyrm functioning. In that way, we have a bond, similar but different, to what the dragon riders have with their dragons. For smaller creatures, we can raise a whole army of them. But although we have the ability to raise the dead, it doesn’t mean we want to be surrounded by the dead. We like life,” he glances at Harper, “and beauty. It’s just that our lands don’t provide much of either. So, we survive the best we can.”
“By insulting the gods by raising the dead,” Elder Thorne mutters.
Our father shoots him another look, but Sevrin answers, his tone respectful, “Both our people have tried using boats to cross between our continents, but nothing survives the creatures in the deepest of waters. We use boats for fishing close to the shoreline, as do your people, but both our kinds gave up on traveling long distances by boat a long time ago. Dragons, or bone wyrms, are the only way to travel… and Hollowborns cannot bond with dragons, so this is our only choice.”
“And it’s an innovative choice!” our father says, lifting a glass of ale. “We look forward to learning more about your customs and ways.”
“Yes,” I say, trying not to sound too stiff.
“How are you liking being our guest so far?” my father asks, sipping his drink.
“Dravari lands are beautiful, with a lush landscape that dazzles the eyes,” Sevrin compliments easily. His gaze moves to Harper. “It’s beauty is second to your women, of course.”
Harper gives him an amused look, but just focuses on eating.
“Is Volcaris very different?” Alaric asks, and I know he’s being polite, because Volcaris is as different from our continent as night and day.
“Very,” he confirms, poking a potato in sauce. “But only the landscape. It is a place of volcanoes, lava, and ash, but beneath that it’s not so different. Families gather, grow food, hunt whatever moves in the ocean. We have celebrations. We mourn lives lost. In the important ways, I don’t think we’re all that different.”
“The Hollowborn were responsible for killing their grandfather, and his father before him,” Elder Thorne says, his face and throat turning a bright red color.
“I understand.” Sevrin has a drink in his hand as he studies the older man. “Both my father and grandfather were killed by the Dravari. You’ll find similar stories from all the men in my army.”
“It’s kind of hard to believe,” Alaric begins. He looks uncomfortable, but continues, “There’s just been so much death on both sides for so long.”
