The other woman, who I’m guessing is Sevrin’s mother, walks over and takes my hands in hers. Her palms are rough, scarred, but her grip is gentle. “Queen Mariswen,” she says. “Thank you for not letting my son get himself killed.”
I blush. “He did most of the work himself.”
She gives me a look I recognize, maternal, bone-deep, endlessly patient. “No one does anything alone.”
I’m still clutching her hands when Princess Aeralyn, the first woman, says, “You’re not afraid of us.”
It’s not a question, but I treat it as one anyway.
I shake my head. “No.”
She bares her teeth. “Good.” Then she turns to Sevrin and punches his shoulder roughly. “You said if you returned with a wife, with Dravari and dragons, you were successful in your goal. I guess you were successful.”
He shrugs, as if this is the most reasonable thing in the world. “I was successful with the treaty, but also successful in making this family.”
Princess Aeralyn makes a face, but then her eyes land on Lucien, and she tips her head. “You look like what I’d expect of a Dravari prince.”
“Is that a good thing or a bad thing?” he asks.
His sister looks away without answering. “Well, welcome, all of you. Won’t you please come in and accept our hospitality?”
They usher us inside, into a main hall that’s both intimidating and weirdly cozy. The walls are hung with nets and spears, skulls of fish and birds, and a few odd bits of what might be dragon scale. The floor is clean, swept, covered in faded rugs. There’s a long table down the middle, crowded with dried fish and something that looks like pickled eggs. The smell is sharp, but not unpleasant.
Mariswen sits me down next to her and pours me a glass of something pungent and clear. “You must be starving,” she says, before shoving a plate in front of me.
I realize, suddenly, that I am. I eat, grateful, and the others do the same. It’s not food that we’re necessarily accustomed to, and the flavors are certainly different, but it’s not bad. Alaric devours the fish like he’s been starved for weeks. Gareth tries the liquor, coughs, then pours himself another. Lucien pokes at a fish, sniffs it, and takes a bite so delicate that I have to try not to laugh.
Sevrin is the only one not eating. He’s looking at me, at his family, at the room. His face is open, unguarded, and happy.
I smile at him, and he catches my eye. Leaning over, he kisses me gently, and I get the feeling he’s happy. And proud. Glad to both have us meet his family, and have his family meet us.
Princess Isaris plunks herself down on my other side, bouncing on the bench. “So you’re a dragon rider,” she says, eyes huge.
I nod, mouth full.
“Agirldragon rider?”
I nod again, because, well, clearly I am.
“Are the dragons really as smart as people say?”
I swallow. “Smarter.”
“Can you actually talk to them?”
“Kind of,” I say, and explain, as best I can, what it’s like. Isaris listens, rapt.
Princess Aeralyn interrupts. “What’s your plan, little brother? I’m guessing the fragile Dravari don’t intend to stay here, so is the plan still the same? You spend most of your time there, and I run things here?”
Sevrin doesn’t hesitate. “We’ll be heading back to Dravari lands right away. Our task here has been completed.”
Princess Aeralyn picks at the fish on her plate. “The dragons have bathed in the waters?”
“Yes. And I’ve brought the peace treaty documents, so you can see our new Dravari lands and create a party of soldiers to visit it first and start to get things set up before we officially build another town there.”
“Hopefully one they don’t take from us,” she says, eyeing Lucien, who I have a feeling she doesn’t particularly like. Not that she particularly likes any of us.
Queen Mariswen puts a hand on Sevin’s. “You did well, son. Better than we could have hoped.”
