“But not in a restaurant?”
“Not exactly.”
“All right.” I let it go. If lunch was coming and I didn't have to go into a Tytra restaurant to eat it, that was fine with me.
After several minutes of walking past fascinating shop windows full of dazzling magical displays such as dancing dolls and hovering light crystals in a multitude of colors (the baker's window was the best, showing a man roasting nuts with his hands), we left the busy sidewalks and turned onto a nearly deserted path. It led to a building shorter than the others, only two stories tall. There were guards at the entrance. Wait, no, not guards. They were just doormen. Damn my war-focused mind. Guards or not, they hesitated when they saw me, but then their stares found the moonstone on Taroc's chest, and they bowed to us before opening the doors.
Well, that was a good sign.
Taroc led me through a white marble entryway and up to a long, wooden desk. A woman sat behind it, head bent to a book she was writing in. She glanced up, smiled, finished what she was doing, then got up and came around the desk.
“Hello.” Her bright grin faltered a second when she saw me. But she rallied valiantly, widening her smile. Or was she baring her teeth?
“We have a reservation,” Taroc said. “Wraith Lord Taroc and guest.”
“Yes, of course, Wraith Lord.” She bowed. “We've been expecting . . .” Her gaze had gone back to me and noticed something none of the other Tytra had—myWraith Lord pendant. “You . . .” She glanced at Taroc. “You arebothWraith Lords?”
“Yes.” Taroc's chest puffed out. “This is Wraith Lord Ember, the only human Wraith Lord in existence. Our Goddess foretold that he will end the war.”
The woman swayed. “The . . . ahumanwill end the war?”
“So says the Goddess via the Emperor,” Taroc said as if daring her to argue with a deity and the ruler of the world.
“Forgive me, my lords,” she stammered. “I was surprised to hear that an end has been foretold. We haven't heard of the prophecy here. That is joyous news!”
“Yes. Feel free to spread the word.”
She lifted her chin and smiled. “I shall. And may I say that it is an honor to serve a man destined to be our savior?” She bowed to me.
I blinked. “Uh, thank you.”
“Right this way, Wraith Lords.” The woman sashayed past us.
Taroc grinned at me as we followed her, going down a long hallway, and then outside. Behind the building was a spacious—and I meanspacious—courtyard. No trees, just grass and a few benches along the wall. All that space was needed for the dragons.
I stumbled as we walked out into the courtyard.
Taroc, now smirking, steadied me. “Is this the first time you've seen one of us in dragon form?”
“Up close, yes,” I whispered. “Wow.”
“I'm surprised Nexhavaren hasn't shown off for you yet. He's very proud of his dragon.”
“Nope,” I said distractedly. “Guess he hasn't had the chance.”
Two dragons waited in the courtyard. Both sat on their haunches, heads lifted and turned toward each other. Their deep voices filtered down to us. Yup, just a couple of dragons hanging out and gossiping. No big deal.
The one on the right was deep crimson, with golden wings that were nearly transparent. The one on the left was snowy white. All white. Wings, horns, scales—white. They both shone in the sunlight, their scales as glossy as glass.
“Liss,” the woman called up to one of them.
The dragons turned to regard her.
“Your one o'clock reservation is here.” She waved her hand toward us. “Wraith Lords Taroc and Ember.”
The white dragon bent its head to bring it down to our level. Golden eyes fastened on me and giant nostrils widened as Liss sniffed deeply. “AhumanWraith Lord?” the voice that emerged from those massive jaws was male. Very male.
“The only one,” she hurriedly added. “Blessed by the Goddess as the man who will end the war.”
