“Excellent.” Trevare gestured, and a woman dressed in golden robes stepped forward. “Advisor Mirabelle will show you to your quarters. Please make yourselves comfortable. Dinner will be served at sunset in the grand hall.”
Mirabelle led us into the cliff dwelling, her posture so rigid I wondered if she’d crack if she bent too far. The passages were wider than Silvervale’s, with vaulted ceilings and more gold decoration.
“Goldwing Court has maintained the highest standards of excellence for twenty-seven generations,” Mirabelle said as we walked beside her, her tone suggesting she was reciting from script. “Our architectural achievements are unmatched in the realm. And let us not forget our significant cultural contributions. Everyone knows our diplomatic protocols are the model for all courts.”
She said it without a trace of warmth or humor. Just facts, delivered with the expectation we’d be impressed.
She’s very proud of her shiny rocks,Adele said.
Don’t make me laugh.I was fighting my own smile.
Mirabelle stopped at an ornate doorway, its frame inlaid with gold filigree. “Your quarters, Your Majesties.” She pushed open the door and paused, her gaze sweeping over our clothing and small bags with barely concealed distaste. “You’ve been traveling, and it appears you didn’t bring formal clothing. We’ll have appropriate attire sent to your room so you don’t feel out of place at dinner.”
“That’s very thoughtful,” I said evenly, though irritation sparked in my chest. Adele’s hand found mine, squeezing once, a reminder that it was my turn to behave.
“The bathing springs are through the back passage.” Mirabelle gestured to a door on the far wall of the large sitting area. “Dinner is at sunset. Please don’t be late. Punctuality is highly valued at Goldwing.”
She turned and left, her robes swishing with each step.
The door closed, and Adele burst out laughing. “Appropriate attire so we don’t feel out of place? She means so they don’t feel embarrassed by us.”
“That’s absolutely what she meant.” I pulled her into my arms. The tension I’d been carrying since we landed started to ease. “Welcome to Goldwing, where appearances matter more than anything and subtlety is for lesser courts.”
“It’s so different from Brightmore.” She leaned into me, her body warm and solid against mine. “And even Silvervale wasn’t this rigid.”
“Each court has its own culture. Brightmore is a village of working dragons. It’s practical, straightforward, and community-focused. Silvervale is political but values independence and strength. Goldwing is…”
“Obsessed with looking perfect?”
“Exactly.” I grinned. “They’re not bad people. Justconcerned with protocol and reputation. Trevare seems reasonable enough. He’s young, but so was I when I took over. And from what I’ve heard, he’s progressive by Goldwing standards. But he’s got a council of traditionalists he has to manage, and they’re going to be watching us intently.”
“Fantastic.” But she was smiling as she pulled back to look around the room.
The quarters were spectacular. High ceilings, gold accents everywhere, furs on the large bed.
Adele was already moving toward the back passage.
I followed her, and the bathing chamber made even Silvervale’s springs look modest. The pool was enormous, carved from rose-colored stone with gold veining. Steam rose in lazy curls, and the mineral scent was different here, warmer, almost spicy.
“This is…” Adele trailed off, shaking her head.
“Excessive?”
“I was going to say beautiful, but yes, also excessive.” She turned to face me, and the exhaustion I’d been sensing through our link showed in her eyes. “We’ve been flying all day.”
“And you barely slept last night.” I’d felt her restlessness, her mind churning through data and theories. “Let’s bathe and relax a bit before we have to dress and perform at dinner.”
We stripped and slipped into the water, and I pulled her close, her back against my chest. For a long moment, we just floated, letting the heat soak into our tired muscles.
“I hate that I don’t have answers yet,” she said. “All these babies suffering, and I’m just collecting data.”
“You’re being thorough. That’s good.”
“It doesn’t feel good.” Frustration came through in her voice. “It feels like I’m failing.”
“You’re not.” I turned her to face me, needing her to see my certainty. “You’re doing exactly what needs to be done. Investigation takes time.”
“Time those babies don’t have.”
