A little surprised himself, Vorik stared as Jhiton swept the tablecloth aside to reveal a dragon hatchling. Its scales were so new that they were pink instead of the red they would one day turn, and its small wings were a little lopsided since they were still in the process of forming. Its sharp, pointy teeth worked fine, though, as proven by the bites torn out of a turkey leg clutched in its small grip. It emitted a tiny roar at having its hiding place revealed and turned to run farther under the table, but Jhiton swept it up, holding it out with both hands.
“Oh!” one of the kitchen boys cried triumphantly, running over with his cage and tongs. “I’ll take that, sir. The chefsaidthe little scoundrel had gotten into the smokehouse, but he wasn’t able to catch it.”
Jhiton calmly held out the dragon, shifting his grip to avoid being bitten, but he shook his head at the boy. “One does notcagea dragon.”
“Er, but if you grab it, it bites you.”
“That is what dragons do.” With deft hands, almost as if he were juggling, Jhiton kept the dragon’s teeth from finding his flesh.
“How do you get rid of them, sir?”
“Call the mother.” Jhiton looked at Syla.
She nodded. “I’ve let her know. She’ll be here shortly.”
A roar came from below the cliffs, announcing Wreylith’s approach.
“Oh.” The boy saw the red dragon soar over the courtyard wall and scurried away, attempting to hide the large cage as he disappeared into the crowd.
Not batting an eye as the great dragon swept down on them, Jhiton merely held his captive aloft. Like a mother cat plucking up a kitten with its jaws, Wreylith took the hatchling from him. Then, instead of flying back to her cave, she settled on the roof of one of the towers overlooking the courtyard.
“Wreylith will stay for the wedding.” Syla looked at Vorik. “We’re to be honored.”
“Oh, I am. Agrevlari says he’s observing remotely while he watches the other seven hatchlings. It’s going to be utter chaos, you know, when they’re all capable of escaping the lair and running around the castle and the city.”
“In hindsight, I possibly should have argued more vociferously when I asked Wreylith to choose a cave location a touch farther from the city.”
“Possibly,” Vorik said blandly and almost suggested that he’d seen some nice-looking caves over by the Freeborn Faction camp. Sending the hatchlings to pester Atilya seemed like a fair return after she’d tried to drug him.
“General Jhiton,” Syla said, “thank you for coming today. We’re as honored by your presence as we are by Wreylith’s.”
“You spoke of a position.”
“My brother doesn’t believe in small talk,” Vorik said.
“I see. Yes, General, I did.” Syla took a bracing breath and looked at Vorik for a moment.
He nodded supportively, though he had no idea what she meant to offer Jhiton. Nor could he imagine what position within the Kingdom Jhiton would possibly accept.
“My current General of the Militaries,” Syla said, “who oversees the enforcers and protectors, as well as the Royal Fleet, is retiring. Since he was involved in some of the assassination attempts on my life, I wasn’t motivated to implore him to stay, but that leaves me with a vacancy that needs filling.”
Vorik’s jaw sagged open as he realized where she was going.
“Typically, I understand,” Syla said, “one promotes another officer from within the military, but… I don’t know many of those men and women well yet, and I gather there was a lot of complicity insofar as writing up the orders for assassination attempts. If you’re interested, I would like to offer you the position of General of the Militaries.”
“Why?” Whether Jhiton was surprised, repulsed, or honored, it didn’t come out in his flat tone.
“I’ve seen you fight.” Syla smiled faintly, though this had to be hard for her. How many times had she said that she hated Jhiton? Jhiton who’d been responsible for the deaths of her family. That was as great a crime as trying to have herassassinated, surely.
“My record in leading men to victory has not been impressive of late.” That had to gall Jhiton to admit, but his face remained hard to read, his tone flat. “My competence shouldn’t tempt you to desire my leadership for your military.”
Vorik wanted to object to there being anything wrong with his brother’s competence and say that the gods themselves had been among those working against him, but he waited to hear Syla’s response.
“A wise man—” she looked toward Sergeant Fel, “—said I should put into office those that I can trust rather than those with the most exemplary records.”
“And you trust me?” Jhiton’s eyebrows twitched upward.
Vorik scratched his cheek, somewhat fascinated by the conversation.
