"We dwarves have more sense than to leave solid ground," Steelfoot declared.
Rockbreaker chuckled. "That's because you'd likely fall and break something before you got halfway up."
The dwarves laughed heartily at that, Hammerfall slapping his knee. "Fair point, orc. We're built for stone and earth, not swaying about in the air like birds."
Within moments, Boarstaff reached Sebastian's branch and settled beside him, the wood creaking slightly under their combined weight.
As he positioned himself, Sebastian shifted to make room, the movement causing his borrowed pants to slide down slightly at the hip. Boarstaff caught a glimpse of distinct finger-shaped bruises marking the pale skin there, marks that matched his own hand span precisely. Heat rushed to his face before he could control it, memories of their night together suddenly vivid and immediate.
Sebastian seemed unaware of the revealed marks as he pointed toward the distant horizon. "There. Do you see them?"
Boarstaff forced himself to focus, following Sebastian's gesture. Indeed, a small party of riders was visible, still distant but moving steadily toward the village. Their distinctive riding style, low in the saddle, moving in formation, marked them as desert warriors even at great distance.
Sebastian's hand came to rest on Boarstaff's shoulder, the touch ostensibly steadying. "Careful, Warchief," his voice carried just enough to be heard by those below. "We can't have you falling and breaking anything before your guests arrive."
The touch lingered a moment longer than necessary, and when Boarstaff glanced at Sebastian, the look in his eyes communicated understanding. This public restraint, this careful maintenance of appearances, was as much for Boarstaff's benefit as for the village's. Boarstaff felt a surge of gratitude for Sebastian's discretion.
"What poor orc did you convince to bed you, vampire?" Thornmaker's voice carried up from below, sharp with disapproval.
Boarstaff tensed, realizing Thornmaker must have noticed the bruises. He shot a warning glance downward, but the damage was done.
Sebastian glanced down, seemingly surprised that his momentary exposure had been noticed. There was a flicker of something, perhaps embarrassment, before his expression shifted to sardonic amusement.
"Aw, jealous they aren't your fingerprints, Thornmaker?" he replied without missing a beat.
A moment of stunned silence followed, broken by Rockbreaker's deep, rumbling laugh. Even the dwarves joined in after a moment, their earlier reserve cracking in the face of Sebastian's audacity.
"In the Iron Holds," Hammerfall said between chuckles, "we don't comment on such marks unless it's at a proper gathering."
"Aye," Ironhand added with a grin. "And then everyone compares bruises come morning. No shame in it."
"Remember that summer solstice?" Steelfoot asked. "When the entire mining guild—"
"—decided clothing was optional?" Ironhand finished. "Good times. No one asked questions about who ended up where, just admired the evidence."
Thornmaker's expression darkened further at this casual acceptance, but before he could respond, Ironhand spoke up again, tactfully changing the subject. "The riders are definitely of the Sand Serpent clan," the dwarf observed. "Their banners are unmistakable."
"Good allies in a fight," Steelfoot added. "Crafty tacticians."
Boarstaff seized the opportunity to redirect the conversation. "Can you make out their clan markings?" he asked Sebastian, who had the better vantage point and sharper eyes.
"You know their leader?" Sebastian asked, turning to look at him directly. The proximity was suddenly overwhelming, their faces only inches apart.
"If it's the Sand Serpent clan, then yes," Boarstaff managed, his voice rougher than intended. "Khalida. She's formidable."
Sebastian turned back to study the riders more carefully. "The lead rider... yes, that could be her. The way she sits her mount, the deference the others show." His enhanced vision caught details Boarstaff couldn't hope to see.
A smile tugged at the corner of Sebastian's mouth. "High praise from you."
Before Boarstaff could respond, Thornmaker's voice rose from below. "What do you see, Warchief? Besides your vampire's bruises?"
Grateful for the interruption despite the barb, Boarstaff called down, "Twenty-three riders. Sand Serpent clan. They'll reach the gates within the hour."
He began his descent, trying not to notice how Sebastian watched him go, those unnaturally bright eyes tracking his movement with an intensity that made his skin prickle.
Once on the ground, Boarstaff immediately began issuing orders. "Rockbreaker, alert the council. We'll need to prepare a formal welcome. Thornmaker, double the gate watch, honor guard formation."
"And what of him?" Thornmaker asked, jerking his head toward Sebastian, who remained perched above them.
